Crying is the Same at All Ages

When I have panic attacks, there's always one thing I end up doing. I'll sit somewhere secluded, rock myself back and forth, and make shushing noises. At some point during this, I invariably find myself wondering why I'm doing that? I never had an answer and I couldn't even tell if it helped, but I always ended up doing it anyway.

But guess what! I know why I do it now!

On Sunday, my mom, my sister Kimberly, and I were chatting after church. As Kin is still hugely pregnant, we naturally got onto the topic of babies and Kin told us about one of the new things she had learned. It's called "The 5 S's" or something like that.  If I remember right, the 5 S's are swaddling, sleeping, swinging... something else, and shushing. She told us about how when a baby is crying you need to shush louder than they're crying so they can hear you, and rock them back and forth more vigorously if they're crying harder. It sounds odd, and likely the mental picture this gives you is also odd, but it is apparently very soothing to the baby. Saying, "Shhh, shhhh," over and over calms a baby down.

After Kin mentioned that, I had a moment of, "Oh! That's why I do it!" Thinking back, whenever I do start shushing myself when I'm panicking, it does stop my crying. My sister mentioned that shushing is also soothing to an adult. Why? I have no idea. When I picture someone shushing me when I'm not upset, it seems like it would be obnoxious, but when I'm in tears, it's not. Weird. I suppose it's just something that stayed with me from my baby years. It calmed me then, it calms me now. Maybe it's relaxing because when someone is saying, "Shhh," the noise is loud enough that you can hear it past your tears, and it thus reminds you that someone is with you and watching over you.

I feel slightly cool that my natural instinct when I'm panicking is clinically proven to be soothing. It's also nice that I won't have to wonder what the heck I'm doing next time I have a panic attack. Yay!

Growing Up

I'm beginning to notice more and more these days just how much an adult's perspective of the world differs from a child's. It tends to be darker and more pessimistic - or the preferred term "realistic". Some of the wonder of the world is lost as you grow. Sometimes I think about how much I miss being a child and being so carefree and innocent. But then I think, if I were a child again, what would I lose? Growing up may take away some of the simple joys, but it gives you new ones, if you're willing to be brave and think optimistic thoughts. Sometimes they're realistic too.

What I've noticed most recently is that there are things we carry with us from childhood that we sometimes need to be retaught when we grow. They're different for everyone. For some they may have to re-discover their faith, others relearn their beliefs, while others may have to repave the road to their goals. Sometimes the things we learn growing up don't fit quite so cleanly with what we may've known as a child. Does that mean they're wrong? Or is it simply a chance to become like a child again and learn with new eyes the things we always knew?

Maybe we shouldn't spent all our adult years mourning the loss of childhood. True, adulthood doesn't give the same simple joys as youth - it has different ones. It has the chance to learn things fresh, to see the world more, to actually live adventures instead of acting them out in your backyard with your friends. Sure, it'll be hard and scary sometimes, but it wouldn't be worth it if it wasn't.

Where Do Enemies Come From?

On the surface, this seems like a "no der" kind of question, and let's face it, it really is. However, I feel like being philosophical today, so I'm going to talk about it anyway.

I've been brainstorming ideas for a new story the past couple of days when I stumbled upon this question. I have two characters who are enemies, but I couldn't think of an interesting reason why. So I googled the question to see if it would get my creative juices flowing better. The first thing I found was some forum where a person asked this question and, surprisingly, the answers people posted were pretty thoughtful. Some people posed the idea that there are just some people out there were innately meant to hate. From the moment we see them, we're put off for no apparent reason. Others suggested that enemies and hatred arise when people descend below the three hold of humanity (i.e. they commit murder, rape, abuse, etc.). But there was one post that had only one word in it that I remember: enmity. 

I think that stuck out to me because I had a seminary lesson all about that very word. My teacher defined it's origins as three things: Hatred, hostility and opposition. These in turn all stem from one simple thing. Pride. He even drew us a picture.

So, are enmity and pride pretty much the same thing?

Why do we hate things? Well, that's a philosophical question all it's own, but I"m going to give it my own answer anyway. We hate things because they get in our way. I learned in a health class once that conflict between people arises when basic needs are being cut off; like if someone make you feel like you don't belong or limits your power, something like that. Is the birth of hatred so different? Look at the people you dislike and ask yourself why you do. Can any of us say that it's fora  reason other than they make us feel inferior or they keep us from what we want or they defy our morals? We hate people because they get in the way of who we are.

So why are we hostile? I'm no expert, but I bet if you asked a psychologist or an anthropologist or someone else who studies people, they may say something along the lines of hostility arising from our caveman days. Look at it this way. If a lion is trying to attack and eat your family, what would you do? Probably shoot it, right? I think our primal instinct is to protect ourselves when we're being hurt or attacked and that often takes the form of hostility. Are we ever hostile to the people we love? Not when we love them. Hostility and hatred are closely linked.

Finally, there's opposition. I don't really know what question to ask about this because opposition can be a good thing. So I'll just skip the thoughtful question and get straight tot my point. Opposition can be good because it teaches us to value the harmony in our lives. That being said, does that give us the right to nurture opposition (hey look! I found a question)? I mean, is opposition really something we should seek out? Hmmm, maybe I don't know what my point is here. Opposition has a fine line between being good or bad. Maybe it's when we let opposition make us angry that it gets bad. Anger just encourages hostility and hatred.

So I come back to my original question: Where do enemies come from? In truth, I don't know, but I think enmity and pride play a large role. When we stop thinking of others and start viewing our own needs as the most important, its as if the figurative veil thickens. Suddenly, we can't remember that we were all once brothers and sisters in the premarital world. We can't remember that our imperfections are what make us equal, for none of us are perfect. We can't see in each other the part that Heavenly Father loves because our eyes are too filled with ourselves. I don't think it's wrong that enemies exist because those who turn towards the wrong should be resisted. I do, however, think that hatred is an unnatural thing. We all loved each other once. Isn't that a better thing to have than hatred?

Emptying my Brain

Sometimes I have random story ideas that I have to get out of my head before I can focus on whatever story I'm writing at the time. This scene and these characters I came up with while watching CW's "Beauty and the Beast", season 2. I haven't read over this or edited it at all, I just wrote it down and now I'm putting it up here. :)

It was in a hospital that Marella opened her bleary eyes. She didn’t know it yet, but she had been there all night. She’d had intensive surgery to remove a bullet from her abdomen. She was going to live. The bullet hadn’t done any damage to her insides that the skilled surgeons couldn’t repair. Besides, her body had been through worse.

Indeed, perhaps that was why she seemed so surprised when she came to. She had blacked out before being found. She had been sure that she would bleed out before anyone would find her. Yet, she found herself alive, in a hospital bed with oxygen tubes in her nose. She knew she was alive because she could still feel soreness in her belly, but with all the painkillers in her system, she mostly felt a little woozy. But her biggest surprise was yet to come.

She blinked to clear her eyes and tried to look around the room. Even that small effort made her dizzy. Her eyes fell on a figure sitting beside her bed – a man, leaning on his knees and watching her over clenched hands. Marella had to rub her eyes and blink a few more times before her eyes were clear enough to see who it was.

The soreness in her belly seemed to vanish along with everything else in there as shock enveloped her. She felt as if her limbs had gone numb, for she could no longer move. All her senses were forced onto the man beside her; a man with short, dark hair, eyes filled with intensity and scruff all around his jaw. He didn’t seem able to move either as his gaze met her’s without blinking.

Marella barely found her voice. “. . . Dad . . .” her voice came out a whisper.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t move at all, as if he was still trying to figure out if he was in a dream or not. Marella frowned at him. “Dad . . .?” she said again, a little stronger.

She lifted a trembling hand. The man’s eyes flicked to it for a moment before looking back at her. Marella swallowed and closed her eyes again. Her fingertips found the scruff on his cheek. Her breathing was unsteady as she slowly traced her fingers across the contours of his face. She nearly stopped breathing altogether when she knew where all the dips and curves would be before she felt them. She knew this face. She had memorized it long ago.

“Daddy,” this time her voice broke.

The man took her hand away from his face and clasped it between both of his. She hadn’t realized how cold her’s were until he did. He placed a rough kiss on her knuckles.

“Hey there, kiddo,” was all he could manage to say. Emotion of every sort welled so high in his chest and throat that it was a miracle he could speak clearly at all. Marella didn’t dare open her eyes for fear he would vanish if she did.

She felt the warmth of his hands spreading through her entire form like a soothing current. Yet, even so, she could speak with no more ease than he could.

“Are you –” she sniffed. “Are you really here?”

“Yeah, I’m right here, bud. I’m not going anywhere.”

The cragginess of his voice had never sounded so sweet.

“Is it time to go home now?” Marella’s words barely came out as a breath.

Her dad brushed stray hair off her brow like he’d always done to her out-of-control bangs as a child. “Almost,” he said. “I promise I’m going to take you home soon.”

Marella let out a sob. She rolled onto her side as best she could and reached out to hold her father’s hand in both of hers. Still she didn’t open her eyes as she wept in her pillow. Her father kept smoothing her hair away in the softest caress his rough hands could manage. It brought such warmth to Marella’s heart, yet it made her cry even harder. She didn’t know why. She didn’t quite understand all these feelings bursting within her now. There was only one thing she recognized and she was holding tightly to it with both hands.

For the first time it what felt like an eternity to them both, they were together.

Outside the room, the cop who had found her and called her father in walked past. She glanced in the window, not intending to pry, just checking in, but the sight in the room made her smile. Though she couldn’t see the father’s face, she could feel something coming from him – something that could only be described as joy, yet even that word seemed so lacking. She wiped a stray tear from her eye and turned around, giving them some privacy. She smiled for a long while too.

Fighting Ants in My Pants and Writer's Block

Every writer has a different way of dealing with writer's block. My usual method is mostly just me indulging my procrastination side. I figure, if I can't think of anything to write in a given moment, maybe I'll be able to tomorrow. Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow, right? But, I've got to write sometime, and at some point, writer's block starts to lose it's legitimacy as an excuse.

But, never fear! Writer's block isn't the only excuse I have. Whenever I get really in the mood to write something, I get really excited about the story. That's great and everything, but it means I have a really hard time sitting still. Even when I'm on my ADD medication, when I get excited, I'm just pumped with energy and I don't want to just sit and write. I want to be up and about and doing something. That's part of where dispelling comes from. For those who don't know, when I refer to "dispelling", it means I go to my room, listen to my iPod, and act out scenes in my stories. That's usually what I end up doing instead of writing. Then there are days when I feel physically drained, but still in a writerly mode, but as soon as I pull out my notebooks, it's like my creative juices die. So rude.

Usually when that happens, I just write anyway, but I don't get very much done. So I have developed a new method. 

I was bored today, so I decided to dress up like one of my characters. I've done this before with my character Nella when my friends and I made an ASL movie of it for school, but this time I wanted to dress up as someone else. I was watching these beauty video things on youtube and I saw one about a Dragon Queen hairstyle and one about Dark Angel makeup. I combined them with my own little twists and built up my own costume. It was bizarrely fun. I'd never want to take that much time on myself for a normal day, and I would never want to wear that much make up either, but sometimes it's fun to dress up as someone else. That's the only thing I like about Halloween. I get to dress up - if I want. Heh heh. 

So, here is the result of writer's block, an inability to sit still, and a vivid character in my head. This is FairWind. She's the first real character I ever created. She's a fairy (though in this world they call them fey. Specifically, she's a sky fey), but her wings are usually tucked under her shirt. That's my excuse for why you can't see them in these pictures. She is a three and a half century old Dragon Master. Dragons in this world are actually what they call the magic people have - it's not a reptilian beast. Everyone has a dragon, but few know how to recognize them, even fewer know how to use them, and still fewer are capable of mastering them. Thus, Dragon Masters are considered mythical beasts. FairWind is one of them. She also has mastery of an evil sort of magic (the name of which I haven't yet decided on), but she doesn't know that at the beginning of the story. She's a very stoic, serious, compassionate, vigilant, mysterious type of character.

FairWind has a very special cape that has certain abilities which keep her . . . healthy, per say.

She doesn't smile much. Can you tell?

I'm not actually posing here. I was trying to come up with a way to make the waist-scarf visible. The scarf is one of the reasons you know she's a sky fey. Many sky fey wear similar styles. As FairWind has spent no time amongst her own kind, little reminders like wearing that scarf are small connections she can still have with them. However, the scarf isn't supposed to be visible, because that's where she keeps her daggers.

This is me wondering if I could make this position look normal. 

I'm wearing a skirt as a shirt, if you didn't notice. :) I imagine the sky fey have very lose fitting, flowing shirts because they have to fit their wings in there, and they're usually there for a long time, so I figured a flowing shirt would make sense. It would certainly be more comfortable.

Hey look! She's almost smiling! 

I only took this picture to show the wrist tattoo. It's one of the few clues FairWind has about her past (which she has no memories of), but she doesn't know what it means or why it's there.

I think this pose is supposed to be her daring someone to fight her. I don't know. I was running out of ideas at this point.

Making Myself Giggle

Sometimes it's fun to go through old writing that you've forgotten about. It's even useful, in that if you read stuff from a long time ago, you can feel cool since you're a much better writer now. Every now and then, though, you find something that's really silly. Is it vain to laugh at your own jokes?

My friend and I created this detective character on my sixteenth birthday, and since then, we've made about six mini movies with this character. I've always been interested in taking our little detective silliness and making a legitimate story out of it. As a writing method, I got this green notebook and made it the detective's journal. I've only written maybe two entires in the thing. A few days ago, I was reading through it, and I couldn't stop giggling. I emailed it to my friend as a sort of pick-me-up. If you're having a bad day and need a little something dorky to lighten it, I hope this'll be the something. Possibly you'll just think I'm crazy or that it's stupid, but I'm sharing it with you anyway. :)

So, here are the first three entries. I hope you enjoy!


Transcript from the Detective's First Video Log

Welcome, I am the Detective. My name shall not be disclosed at this time. 

I've been working in this profession for longer than I care remember. Longer than you would think, I assume. I've found most people take the combination of my age and career choice to mean I'm just a delusional child. Honestly, they think I'm a child. Silly adults.

It's not the happiest of jobs, dealing with death - usually . . . everyday. And the crying psychos are never . . . nice. 

So, here I am. I just solved the Laurence Fisher case - the man killed by his uncle - twice removed - for his baseball. It's strange the things people will do for . . . things.

Now, finally, I'm hoping to get some time off. I've got me, I've got my cigar and I've got my beer-water bottle. What more do I need?

I am the Detective. I will find the answer. Because I always do.


First Entry

This book is stupid. I like Bob better. What do I need a journal for when I've got a cameraman? I guess Bob only stops by once a week unless there's a case. And Ally is . . . *insert crazy scribbling* (that's an inexplicable noise that only makes sense when it's - you know, a noise). See, this book is stupid.

BUT I'M SO BORED!!!!!!

Ally's in Indonesia. My nose itches. The guy next door keeps making car screeching noises. It's very sunny outside.

See, this book is dumb. What exactly do I use it for?

Uh oh. I hear crying noises coming closer in the hallway. I think a case is coming for me. *insert crazy scribbling*


Second Entry

A case is afoot! I don't actually know what that means, but Ally says it a lot when we have cases. About feet. This one's not about feet. Never mind.

Crazy-crying-person's sibling is dead and I get to find the killer. Quite tragic and exciting. Bob shall be here soon to make record of the case. Because that's important.

Now I'm wondering why I started writing this entry in the first place.

Writing Spots

I have a lot of places I like to go to write. The Springville Library, the trail off of Snake Pit, the Elk Ridge Park, my kitchen, etc. I have to have so many because sometimes some of them don't work out.  The Springville library is far away, and sometimes when I get there, all the good seats are taken. Sometimes I don't want to walk to Snake Pit or the park where random people may walk by me, but sometimes I just want to get out of the house so the kitchen is no good. I think it's because my writer's psyche is always trying to get me to procrastinate so I have to come up with all sorts of excuses not to, and not having the perfect place to write is an easy excuse.

My current favorite writing spot I've only actually used twice. I didn't consider it as a spot until I had to bring my car in for inspection stuff and I had to wait for it at Peteetneet. I don't know why, but it was really nice there. There were even some people there, and I was still fine with being there. That's kind of weird. But it was really sunny and quiet, even though there were cars driving past all the time. I sat on one of the benches and wrote for awhile, I took a break on the swings, then I found a new place to write on the playground, then I climbed around on the swing set (probably not the smartest idea, but I was careful), and even though there were gardeners around mowing the lawn, I felt really comfortable there. I don't know why, but it's a nice place. It's not just a place I go to try to make myself write, I just like going there.

I even have an enemy on the playground. There's this big hairy spider that's been hanging around both the times I went. He's never gotten close to me yet, but I always seem to spot him, no matter where I sit. Oddly, that makes it kind of fun. I would've thought that having a freaky looking spider following me around there would bug me, but I just giggle when I see it. Plus, today, I got to escape it by going down the slide. I felt so sneaky!

I don't know if my joy at hanging out at Peteetneet is going to last - I'm sure I'll find something wrong with it eventually - but for now, it's fun to go and get lost in my own little world and take breaks by being a kid again.

Picard Quote #3

"Friendship must dare to risk, Counselor, or it's not friendship."

- S 1 Ep 24

Picard says this to Deanna after confiding in her about a huge favor a close friend of his had asked him. She points out that his friend was asking an awful lot of him, and this was his response.

I feel like this quote can be adjusted or rewritten to apply to a lot of things .What I mean is, the thing that sticks out most to me about this quote is the idea that one must be willing to take chances or they're hardly living. That may seem like a bit of a leap, but let me explain.

Don't all relationships require a bit of give and take? Doesn't being in a relationship at all force you to take risks? Friendship or otherwise, being close to someone at all requires you to allow people to see who you are which lays you at risk of being rejected for it. That sounds like a risk to me. My point is, life is made up of relationships and if you're not willing to risk people getting to know you, then how likely are you to risk anything else? Likely you'll just end up rotting in your bubble for the rest of your life.

Take it from someone who is still recovering from nervous illness; taking chances, no matter how scary or even painful they may be, it's always worth it. Picard speaks specifically of friendship here. Ever since I was little, my circle of friends has always been pretty small. I'm not saying this in the hope of getting pity because I happen to really like my friends. However, the reason I have always had so few is because I am naturally very guarded. It's really hard to get to know me because who I am isn't on the surface. You have to be willing to dig very deep and bey very patient if you want to be my friend. Why am I like that? Well, I guess it's basically that I don't trust people that easily. Letting people get to know me feels a lot like placing my heart in their hands, and I don't want to do that unless I know that I can completely trust them not to damage my heart. Maybe I have a fear of rejection too.

This isn't a trait that I'm particularly ashamed of, but it does make me sad sometimes. I know how awesome I am, but my guarded nature tends to make people treat me like I'm made of glass. Their caution to me is kindly meant, I know, but it always feels like I'm a dragon being staked to the ground so I can't fly when people do that. There have also been times that I wonder if I've lost the chance of having a good friend because I'm so paranoid, but who can really say?

At the end of the day, my favorite thing about this quote is the idea that taking risks can lead to something beautiful. A heart willing to take leaps of faith is one that I think will find the truest love. Sappy as that sounds, can you tell me of a relationship where domination, mistrust, and fear have kept it alive and happy? Love and friendship is scary, it requires a great deal of courage and trust. That, I think, is what makes it so wonderful. It's like magic. You may not fully understand it, but it can do amazing things. :)

I challenge all of us to "dare to risk". After all, "Seek and ye shall find". Maybe all we have to do to find such a relationship is look for it. Not just with our eyes, but with our hearts, and that requires action and that is when we must "dare to risk".

Courage and Fear: A Strange Marriage

(If you read my last post, this is the eventual epiphany I had later that day.)


Why do we feel fear? Well, the simple answer is that it's a survival instinct. We're not likely to waltz into a dangerous situation if we're afraid. Fear is what stops us from swimming with alligators and skydiving without a parachute, to use extreme examples. To put a different way, fear is a protector.

So, if fear is a protector, why do we view it as evil? That answer is fairly simple too. Have you ever been hiking and you hear some rustling sound off the trail and you instantly think it's a bear or something similar? Logically, it's not likely to be a bear. It's probably just a squirrel or something. However, when faced with the unknown, our minds have a habit of instantly jumping to the worst-case scenario. After all, if you're prepared for the worst, you're prepared for anything. Thus, we tend to not like fear very much because it forces us to think about thinks we'd probably rather not think about. More than that, fear is an instinct meant to keep us safe, but it's not some sentient being. It's the body's reaction to possible danger. But some times scary things are good for us, but the mind doesn't know that. So we are taught that fear is evil because it so often keeps us from progression and opportunities.

That's what makes courage look so divine. Courage means you can face fear, move through it, keep moving forward despite the instinct to hold still. It's essentially the hero fighting the villain kind of thing. It's also highly thought of because it's rare. Fear is an instinct, but courage is more of an acquired trait. Since it doesn't come as naturally as fear, it's harder to find.

At least, that's what we're taught.

Fear is a protector. Is protecting and safety a bad thing? Courage is our soldier. Is fighting always a good thing? On the other hand, one is a soldier and the other a protector. Their names are different, but aren't those basically the same thing?

Here's what I think: We often think that fear is of the devil because it can keep us from doing good things. However (and this is just my opinion, not gospel doctrine or anything), Heavenly Father is the one who created us and we are only capable of thinking, feeling, and doing what he created us to think, feel, and do. That includes fear. Satan's armory consists only of what we have. He twists good things against us. I think he exaggerates our fear to make it seem more like a monster and thus keep us from doing good things.

We're taught that courage and fear are opposites. Courage means to resist fear - to fight it off, but doesn't the very act of fighting force the bad feelings to remain ever present? I don't think courage is exemplified through battles. I think courage isn't so much a soldier as it is acceptance. Courage is that one that looks at the terrors that fear presents and says, "Thanks for the warning, but let's keep going anyway." Fear keeps us safe, but when it keeps us from growing, courage moves us forward.

A famous saying is "the only thing to fear is fear itself", but I now think that's wrong. Fear itself isn't something to be resisted or fought. Humans were meant to feel fear for a reason. So, shouldn't we allow ourselves to feel it? Feel it, accept it, let it go through you, for once you stop fighting it, you give it the chance to fade away. My point is, I don't think fear is something we should try to get rid of. We need it. We need is as much as we need courage. When those feelings stop battling and start uniting, is there anything that can't be done?

Essentially, it's okay to be afraid. Resisting it is what makes it take control and halts you from progression. Fear will find a way to make itself heard, so listen to it. Only then can you find the courage to decide to keep moving forward anyway.

So, here's to the courage and fear in all of us, not enemies or opponents, but partners.

Dreams and Nightmares

I was having a bit of a writerly struggle for awhile. I think it's something that pretty much every writer has to struggle with in some form or another. The only reason I can think of is because writing - well, creating anything at all is often more of a spiritual act than it is physical or mental. That may sound cheesy, but aren't the best stories the ones told from someone's heart and not their hands?

Below is a page I wrote to myself of what I was feeling. I'm sharing it because I think many people view writers, artists, even actors sometimes as . . . I don't know, less somehow because all we do is entertain, and some may not see that as a helpful contribution to the world. So, here is a glimpse into the mind of a frightened writer.


"The older I get and the more innocence I lose in growth, the more my passions hurt me. Once I could write whenever and whatever and it was always fun. Perhaps now I over think it. I try too hard now to make an honest story so it loses the magic. I'm so experienced now that it's . . . something else.

"I used to be able to write my dreams and it never bothered me that they weren't perfect - because to me, they were. They were just how I saw them, so why need I be hurt? But now, what I see isn't so easily transferred to paper. Now, when I write my dreams, my ink dirties the world and it becomes a nightmare. Once the dreams reach the mortal world, they're no longer pure. It's like I'm a bridge from heaven to earth, but, because I'm no longer a child, the passage that I am is . . . jagged and muddy and the dreams can't come through me without being broken. Now I'm afraid to write. It doesn't matter how I do it, what I write, or how I feel before - I feel terrible afterwards. I'm not even sure why or how it gets there and I know just as much about getting rid of it.

"I'm not the first to feel this way. Norman Mailer once said, "Every book I write kills me a little more." I understand that feeling, but why does it exist? Writing is a passion, and I think I can do good with it. After all, stories affect people. But are writers doomed to destroy themselves so that someone may be touched by our words? I believe that such would make it worth it, but it doesn't mean that I can do it. Like I said, I'm afraid to write. I can't do it because it hurts so much. How can I ever do good if I can't find the apathy to do so?

"I wish I could ask all those who came before, how do I do it? How did you? How do you brave through the pain to find the dream again? How do you make the pain stop? How do you find the heart to write a story when every time you do, it takes away your soul? From a young writer to a wise one, what am I supposed to do?"

Picard Quote #2

"You say you are true evil. Shall I tell you what true evil is? It is to submit to you. It is when we surrender our freedom - our dignity instead of defying you."

- S 1 Ep 22

Picard says this to what is basically a monster made of tar not long after the said monster murdered a member of his crew. The creature is trying to get the Captain to take it aboard the enterprise so that it may be taken away from the planet that has become it's prison and exile by using fear and intimidation. The quote above is the captain's response.

Personal choice and the right to being and living how one chooses is something commonly valued amongst people, yet it's also something so often crushed. For example, America is a country that was founded on the basis of freedom, specifically religious freedom so that people could worship as they chose. The Declaration of Independence claims that people had a right to live free of a tyrannical monarchy. Ask anyone, and they will most likely agree to this idea - in word only.

True, in this day and age people are theoretically allowed to live and believe whatever they want. That doesn't mean they won't be persecuted for it. 

The most stark example I can think of is the Gay/Lesbian controversy. Supporters of it are essentially fighting for the right to live as they choose. Whenever people go against them or defy them, those people are crucified for it. They claim to be searching for the right to be who they are, yet when others do the same, they are condemned because it goes against what the supporters want.

I'm not saying that one side or another of this controversy is right. Of course, I have religious reasons for believing homosexuality is wrong, but I also believe that condemning someone for their way of life is just as wrong. There are things that are blatantly evil - murder, child abuse, slavery, etc. Those are physical evils, however. In my mind, the Gay/Lesbian controversy is a question of the spirit. No one is physically harmed because that way of life - if someone is, it's usually in relation to something else, not because of homosexuality itself. It is the idea of self discovery and the identity of a person's spirit being perceived as wrong or impure. At the end of the day, that is not our place to decide. I will never change my belief that homosexuality is wrong, but nor will I condemn those who do. Every person has the right to live as they choose. I have no right to judge them for it. 

My point here is that the greatest evil within this controversy is sometimes not because of homosexuality itself, but because of people being shunned on both sides for their beliefs. People tend to get angry when their view of something isn't supported, and when people are angry, they usually want to act out. That's where violent petitions and such come from.

Being LDS, my religion has a long history of persecution behind it, angry mobs hurting and sometimes killing members of the church because of what they believed. 

When faced with such violence and fear, human instinct is to escape it. Human instinct strives only to protect you. Thus, the instinct is to give in to what the angry mobs of the world cry for. That is true evil. No one should be put in a position where they are asked to choose between their life and their beliefs because the two are rarely separate. One of the beliefs of the LDS church is that of something called "agency" or our right to make our own decisions. We have every right to choose good or evil. No creature can every take that from us. There will always be those who try, but those people are wrong and will one day feel the full anguish of making that sort of mistake. 

I suppose what I take from this Picard Quote is that one of the greatest evils is to try to force someone to think as you do through fear and torment. Thus, couldn't it be argued that one of the greatest goods is to accept people no matter what they believe? We all want to be respected for our beliefs, not persecuted for them, but is that ever going to happen so long as "angry mobs" exist?

I can imagine people getting very angry over some of the things I've said in this post. If you're one of them, I'm sorry that my words upset, but I'm not going to take them back.

Picard Quote #1

"It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life."

-S 2, Ep 21

Picard says this to Data because Data is worried about again losing a strategy game against an exceedingly . . . well, "skilled" opponent. After reprimanding him, Picard says this.

In this crazy world we live in, it's hard to cut yourself a break sometimes. We all get caught in the trap of needing to do something perfectly. The culture we live in is one that devalues losers and overvalues winners, so I suppose it's hardly surprising that we all will, on occasion, fall into the trap of seeing ourselves as weak simply because we've failed.

This is one of those quotes that reminds me of that Thomas Jefferson quote that Ben Gates says in National Treasure. The one about the lightbulb. "I didn't fail. I found 100 ways not to make a lightbulb." Very often we view our losses as nothing more than failures, which has a very negative overtone. Failing is bad. Failing means you're a pathetic, wimpy person. If you fail at something, that means you yourself are a failure as a person. It's one of those things that we humans tend to focus on and label ourselves with when they occur.

That's why I like this quote from Star Trek. As much as we'd like to think otherwise, we won't win every battle, but that doesn't make us failures or "weak". "That is life." It's one of those things that make us equal because it's something we all share. 

The way this quote resonates with me is mostly to my writer's side. We writers tend to be very hard on ourselves. When our creations our rejected, it's taken very personally because it doesn't feel so much like our writing is being rejected so much as who we are is. But, that's not really fair to ourselves. If no one likes the things you come up with, that may be hurtful, but does it really matter at the end of the day? I hope not. So long as you've created something that you are proud of, then what does it matter what everyone else thinks. This may be encouraging selfishness, but I think it's okay to just write for yourself and forget about everyone else. :)

Sometimes even something perfect will be rejected by those around us. That doesn't mean it's bad. From an LDS girls' perspective, I look at the many missionary stories from the Book of Mormon. More than once, they would go into cities, preach the gospel, and get kicked out - usually getting severely injured in the process. They did everything they were supposed to, everything they were asked, but it looked as though they still lost. Well, not really. They did their job. The fact that the people rejected them wasn't their fault. They couldn't force them to believe. The final decision was left up to the people they preached to, and they chose to reject it. So, I guess technically, the missionaries didn't lose, but the cities who rejected them sure did.

Anyway, I guess my whole point is that this is a good quote; something to remember when you're being really hard on yourself. Don't let yourself label yourself when you make mistakes or fail at something. As Riker says in a later episode, "It's arrogant to assume you'll never make a mistake." And as Mr. Jefferson said, "I found 100 ways not to make a lightbulb." Losing isn't a failure or a weakness. It's the first step to finding something greater. That's a cheesy thing to say, I know, but let's be honest here, you know it's true.

Introducing My Favorite Picard Quotes

I've been watching some of Captain Picard's "best" quotes and speeches on youtube lately. Nothing extravagant has happened because of that, I just kind of want to start a blog series now where I analyze one Picard quote per post. Wow, that sounds really lame when put into words. It's cooler in my head. That's true for most things though. :)

Anyway, I just like talking about Star Trek, especially Captain Picard because he's one of my favorite characters, especially as I get older and I can better appreciate what he's saying. In this world of pessimism and impure ideals, it's refreshing to me to hear about people who don't fall prey to it - even if they are fictional. As far as fictional characters go, Captain Picard is one that I think I would look up to most if he were real. He's one of the most honorable and consistently decent characters television has ever seen. So, I guess I want to share some of my favorite quotes to prove it. I have no idea how many posts there will be or how long I'll do it. They may not even all be consecutive. I may blog about other things for awhile and then come back to Picard quotes. You never know.

I'm not going to start right now though. My sisters' birthday party will soon begin, so this will have to wait. Also, I don't know which quote I would like to start on. I would like to be able to show the clip from the show that has the quote I would talk about, but that'll only happen if I can find it on youtube. I'm not technologically skilled enough to do it any other way. We'll see how that works out.

In the mean time, here's a video I did find on youtube of a bunch of Picard quotes to give you an idea of what's going to come. Hee hee!

A Chat with Peter and Anni

So the recent problem I've been having with sitting down and trying to write my Perfectionist/Anxiety story is getting Peter and Anni to let me do it. At this point, they trust me enough to actually write the story, but they're very uncomfortable with the idea that I'm going to be forcing them together and making them . . . affiliate and communicate with each other. They aren't exactly fond of each other, you know. (Translation for those who don't understand Parts Therapy: My problem now isn't with worrying about failing because of a crappy story, but rather that I have to really get to know two parts of me that don't go together at all and that both have caused me pain in the past)

I mentioned this problem to my Therapist today and that what I wanted to work on in that section was getting to two to learn to . . . I can't remember exactly what I said, something about how I wanted them to learn to be around each other. So my Therapist suggested bringing them out and having them talk to each other - sort of like a couples therapy session for my Perfectionist and Anxiety. So I acted out what Peter said, what Anni said, and my Self was in another chair and I acted out what she said too. It was a lot easier for me to do than it sounds, but that could be because I'm a Discovery Writer so I'm used to learning about characters and how they feel and react towards certain things on the fly. Roughly, this is the "chat" that followed. The talk started with Peter telling Anni how he felt towards her:


Peter: I don't like that you feel like you have to make Shannan scared in order to keep her safe. I don't like that you feel like you need to hurt her to save her some pain - and this pain doesn't even exist. You imagine terrible things that could happen if she goes outside, but more often than not, they're just irrational and convoluted delusions. You try to "save" her from figments of your own imagination by keeping her shut up. You try to keep her away from human contact so she won't be hurt by them, but in doing so, you let her sink into a lonely hole. I wish that you would let me take over because what I do for her is better.

Anni: You think that the only way for her to be strong is for her to be perfect. Yet, she has grown up in a world full of imperfection, and she understands that no one is meant to be perfect - nor can they ever be. Your constant pushing her to be so anyways is setting her up to fail. I have to keep her away from you because you push her towards something that doesn't exist - that she could never reach. You give her false hope and false drive. Perfection doesn't exist. That is real. What I protect her from is people who hurt her.

Self: The both of you are inherently working towards the same goal. Both of you want to keep me safe, but more than that, you both want to make me stronger and braver and better overall. You both want the same things for me, but you both have very different methods. I'm so grateful to both of you for looking out for me and always trying to keep me safe, but I know that neither of you enjoy doing what you do. I know that both of you want to be something different, a new support for me. So, I ask that you consider that instead of fighting for dominance over me, why not stand together, learn from each other, discover new roles for yourselves with each other, and make me stronger together.

Peter: True, I don't want to do what I do, but I'm worried that if I don't, she's just going to get rejected and made weaker. I have to be the way that I am because it's the only way that she's ever going to make it in this world.

Therapist: Peter, can I ask you something?

Peter: Sure.

Therapist: You're worried about her getting hurt, but I wonder, do you remember what you saw last week, how she reparented and helped those exiles? How did you feel about that?

Peter: Well, I was intrigued and a little relieved. I mean, I know that she's in control and I'm glad. But this is the first I've seen her in control in a long time and I don't know how long that's going to last.

Therapist: Can I ask, what is it about "perfect" that's so important?

Peter: It's the only way she'll be accepted.

Therapist: But the world is full of imperfect people. Pretend there are two doors in my office here. One of them is brown and shabby and sort of decrepit looking. The other is perfect and pristine and shining. Which would you want her to go through.

Peter: Well, the perfect one.

Therapist: What do you think will be on the other side?

Peter: . . . Something nice.

Therapist: What if I told you that when you opened the perfect door, there was only a brick wall on the other side. Because, there is no perfect world. It doesn't exist. So what do you think is behind the shabby, decrepit door?

Peter: . . . People?

Therapist: Yes. All sorts of imperfect people walking around in an imperfect world, and you know what? They're all smiling. There are birds with crooked beaks who still sing beautiful tunes, there are small and large trees that still grow beautiful leaves, there are still people of all kinds walking around doing imperfect things and smiling anyway. So do you think that maybe, instead of shooting for Shannan to be perfect, she should try to be just good enough?

Peter: I'm worried that if I slack she won't be strong enough.

Therapist: What role would you rather carry in her?

Peter: . . . . I'd rather stand beside her. Pull her forward when she hesitates, pull her up when she falls, that sort of thing.

Therapist: Don't you think you can do that?

Peter: I want to, but I can't. Anni always gets in the way. I have to assert my dominance or there's no way I'll be heard and Shannan'll always be stuck in a lonely pit.

Therapist: Ah. You know, this is sort of like couples therapy here. Often when I work with couples, they find ways to blame each other for all sorts of things, so I try to get them to also own up to something they may have done wrong. To sort of recognize something that maybe they could do better on. So Peter, is there anything that you think you could "own"?

Peter: Well, I suppose I'm too harsh sometimes. I feel like I have to use my rough tactics to get to Shannan, but I suppose that's also what brings Anni out in the first place. Maybe if I wasn't so harsh, Anni wouldn't need to step in.

Therapist: Would you like to say something to her?

Peter: *sigh* Anni, I don't like that you dominate Shannan's soul. But, maybe you're right that I need to scare her less. So, is there anyway that you would let me . . . help?

Therapist: Anni, what do you think of that?

Anni: I still don't trust you. I know that all you really want is to give Shannan courage and make her stronger, but I'm worried you'll just weaken her more. However, I'm willing to take the chance at least once.

Therapist: So, when Shannan does something a little outside her comfort zone this week, will you let Peter stand next to you, maybe help you learn to be strong and braver too.

Anni: As long as he doesn't touch me.

Therapist: Peter, do you think you could learn something from Anni too? Maybe how to be more compassionate and empathetic towards others?

Peter: I'm willing to try it out.

Self: Thanks so much guys for being willing to do this for me. I really appreciate that you both are trying to make me stronger and better, and I'm so grateful that you trust me enough to take this sort of step and try something new to help me progress. Thanks for letting me be in charge, and thanks for taking these chances with me. I'm glad I can count on you guys to keep my best interest at heart, and I hope we can all find a way to become who we want to be.


More or less, that's what happened. It flowed a little more naturally during the actual session; this is all just roughly what I'm recalling from memory so it sounds a little weird. It was really neat having that sort of in depth discussion between those too, and it helped a lot to have my Therapist there guiding them to better perspectives. It's a bit of a relief to find Peter learning that it may be better to just be "good enough" rather than being perfect. I'm also excited about the idea of them learning from each other. Because Peter wants to be someone who gives me courage and strength, and Anni wants to be someone who gives me compassion and empathy - I don't know, but the idea of two conflicting forces finding harmony through learning from each other is exciting to me. This brings a lot more calm when I think about writing their story too. I'm really starting to love these sides of me, the more I get to know them. Sort of ironic, isn't it? I guess Ender Wiggin was right, the more you get to know your enemies, the more you love them. Something like that.

My Therapist also showed me this video, since both Peter and Anni are so worried about me never being accepted, and I thought I'd share it with you, because it's nice. :)

Fearfully Stepping Forward

In my last post, I mentioned how my Anxiety was a Protector and my Perfectionist an Exile. However, as I've gotten to know my Perfectionist better over the past couple of days, I realized I had it wrong. He's not an Exile, but another Protector himself, and he's one that is fighting for dominance over my soul with Anni. His name is Peter (it's easy to remember: Anxious Anni, Perfect Peter).

I've been reading Richard Schwartz book on Parts Therapy and there was one section I came across where he discusses "polarized parts", which is what Anni and Peter are. He described it through an analogy of a boat. The boat is about to tip over. Each part is leaning over either end of the boat and if either of them moves at all, the boat will tip. However, he they both move towards the middle at the same time, they'll be safe. The problem is, neither part trusts the other enough to take the needed steps, so they're stuck in a permanently precarious situation. Schwartz explains that what is needed is for a peace to be found with polarized parts is for a third party to step in. If this metaphorical boat was literal, a captain would need to get involved to mediate with the two and teach them to trust each other enough to start taking their steps towards the middle together. So, when there are polarized parts inside you, what needs to happen is for your true Self to step in and be the mediator between them. I understand that this probably still doesn't make a lot of sense to many people and the fact that I'm talking about what are essentially my personality traits in such a familiar fashion may just convince some that I'm crazy. Well, I'm sorry if you are confused, and if you think I'm crazy - I'm a writer, of course I'm crazy. :)

Moving on: I was trying to find a way to get Peter and Anni to work together. At my last therapy session yesterday, my therapist and I spent most of it trying to get to know Peter a little better. However, the whole time he was there, Anni felt the need to stay in the room and keep an eye on him. I remember when I first got Peter out of me, my therapist asked how I felt towards him and I told her that I was afraid of him. She said that that was because some part of me was distorting my view and that I needed to ask that part to step back so I could see Peter through the eyes of my Self. The part that distorted my view was Anni. She did step back. She went and hid under the desk and watched as Peter paced the room.

As far as I imagine them, Peter and Anni are complete opposites. Where Anni is pale, thin, hunched, and always hiding, Peter is tall, buff, imposing, and powerful. He has no hands either. Instead, at the end of one arm is a whip to punish me when I'm not perfect, and at the end of his other arm is a chisel so he can form me into what he thinks is perfect. Through Anni's eyes, he is scary and dangerous. She doesn't trust him at all, and she does what she can to keep me away from him.

However, with her outside of me (oh, did I mention that I discovered Anni was a girl? I'll explain why in a moment), when I looked at Peter, I found I felt more curiosity towards him than actual fear. He was less threatening to deal with when seen through the eyes of my Self. So my therapist and I started talking to him and getting to know the Exiles he was protecting and so on.

I remember one moment, I after I had reparented a couple of the Exiles he was protecting, I got him to stop pacing the room and sit down. The problem was he sat down at the desk under which Anni was hiding. I had to mentally guide Anni out from under the desk to get her away from him because it freaked her out so bad. Whenever he's around, Anni stays close by me. She knows now that my true Self can control Peter, but she still doesn't trust him, nor he her, though he usually just pretends she's not there.

Anyway, my whole point in telling you this is that I've been trying to figure out a way to bring these two together - to help them find harmony with each other and discover new, happier roles within me (neither of them actually enjoy their current jobs). The idea I came up with was a story (shocking, I know).

This story on the outside is a cliche poor-girl/rich-guy romance. I decided, Anni will be the girl and Peter will be the guy (that's how I figured out what Anni's gender was. The fact that she has a girl's name also helped). Through writing a story where they are forced together and forced to get to know each other and work together, I hope that I can find a way to make them fall in love, in a way. Doing it through the standpoint of a story would allow me to act as my true Self so that I can control the situations and guide Peter and Anni through this so that I can find some peace.

Truth be told, I'm slightly terrified of this idea. Its both of them that make me feel that way, too. Anni is afraid of me spending too much time with either of them or putting so much effort into a story because it could ultimately just hurt me, and Peter's afraid of me writing because there's no way the first draft will be perfect, and imperfection is what he tries to protect me from. Whenever I sit down to write, I have to talk to each of them to reassure them that no matter what happens, I'm going to be okay, and that they can stick with me the whole time I write this story. They're calmer when they know they can step in at any time if they feel like they need to.

But, none of this explains the title of this post.

This is the part that will likely make the people who care about me frustrated and worried. I know my parents aren't super excited about it either. I'll get right to the point. I've decided that I am going to defer my schooling for a semester, so instead of going this Fall, I won't be going to school again until January. Most people around me are probably convince this is a terrible idea. This means that for the next five-ish months I will have neither work nor school, which logically means I will sink deeper into the hole my anxiety has built for me. Most people around me will be very worried about me making this choice and will be scared that I'm going to be very hurt because of this.

Don't think that such thoughts haven't crossed my mind too. This has been a terrifying decision for me. I really wanted to go to school this semester. I miss learning things, I miss the Academic drive of school, I want to be a student again, but the truth is, I'm not sure I'm ready for it yet. Whenever I talk about my fears of going to school again with my sisters, they always tell me not to worry because college is so much better than High School. I appreciate their attempts to try to reassure me, and I know they're right, but the fact is that the things about High School that hurt me so much aren't unique to High School. I wasn't hurt because I was in High School, I was hurt because I was in school.

When I think about the things that scared me about school, I remember the hallways, the noise between classes, the lines when getting lunch, teachers in front of the class, the classrooms themselves - whether it be College or High School, these are aspects that are still going to be there. I'm still in a very fragile state. Yes, it's true that I need to push myself to do things that make me anxious or I'm never going to get better, but if I throw myself into something that huge so soon, I don't think I'd make it. This will sound like an exaggeration, but it's not. More than once, when I thought about going to college, the very real fear that my mind will completely crumble if I go there has always hit me. I need to do little steps to heal myself. Things like writing this story - which will be my work from here on out. I don't think I'm ready to handle to pain of school again. I'm afraid of going back, because I'm afraid of being hurt again.

I'm also very afraid of staying home. I'm afraid of the limited human contact I'll have. It's ironic, that never would've bothered me before. These days, I'm just worried about all the things I could be missing out from not going to school this semester. I'm afraid I may be losing the chance to gain valuable friendships, or to really get the education I crave. Part of me feels like I'm signing my death warrant by staying home. Although, to be fair, I felt much the same way when I thought I'd be going to school this semester.

So, am I making the right decision? The truth is, I don't know. Would it have been smarter for me not to defer and just dive into school as soon as I can? I don't know. I really don't know if I'm making the right choice. However, this is the choice I've made. For better or worse, I am going to stick to it, and I am going to move forward from here. I'm going to write every day. I'm going to do something everyday to make me stronger. Just today, I tried calling my bank to figure out what's up with my online account. That ended up being pointless because they're actually closed today since it's Pioneer Day, but I still did it! And now I know what to expect when I call them again tomorrow - which I am really going to do! Also, I have plans with my friend Camilla that we will meet once a week to talk and write together and keep each other grounded in reality. I know I can hang out with my cousin, Amberli, because even if she's married now, we're still as close as we ever have been. I'm having an easier time talking to my parents now, so I'll probably be spending more time with my family. I think I may be able to handle going to all three hours of church from here on out - every week.

I'm terrified of the future, yes, but whatever happens from now on, I have hope that it'll be better. So whatever you think of my decision, please don't criticize me for it. Please don't look at me as wrong or broken. I'm taking my own journey, and I'm taking it at my own pace. Most people probably won't be able to really understand why I made the decision I did without being me, but know that I have been considering this for months on end now, so at the very least, I'm not making a rash, stupid teenager decision.

So for the first time in almost a year and a half, full of fear and hope, I'm finally moving forward. In that at least, I can be happy.

My Anxiety Protects My Perfectionist

There's a lesser known type of therapy known as IFS or "Internal Family Systems". More commonly, it's simply referred to as, "Parts Therapy". I've discovered I'm really not the best at describing what this is, but if you'll bare with me, I'll try.

Essentially, Parts Therapy is the idea that every person is made up of multiple parts. You know when you're trying to make a decision and you think something along the lines of, "Well, part of me wants to do this and another  part  wants to do this." That's an example of parts being at conflict.

Richard Schwartz - who wrote the book on this type of therapy - noticed many of his clients had this sort of problem. An inexplicable conflict inside of them; like a family that couldn't agree. Hence the IFS title. Schwartz developed Parts Therapy by teaching clients to separate themselves from a part that was hurting them so they could essentially talk to it and figure out why it was there.

In essence, Parts Therapy is learning to treat your problem parts - ie, anxiety, depression, anger, self doubt, etc. - so that you can get to the core of the problem and heal yourself.

If you still don't get it, I'm sorry because I'm moving on.

My therapist taught me how to do this so I could get to know my anxiety better. It's really hard to separate myself from it because it's become such a integral part of me, but sometimes I do manage to get it to "leave my body" as it were so I can talk to it at a distance. It's name is Ani. It's neither a boy or a girl which is why I call it "it". To me, Ani is a humanoid, pale creature that is very very thin. It has long arms and legs with three fingers and toes on each that are thin and sharp. Ani has no mouth, only wide eyes that watch everything. Ani is usually always in a hunched position with its arms either blocking its chest or held out to ward bad things off. Whenever I talk to Ani, it's usually hunched in a corner or hiding under a desk. In a way, Ani bares many  physical similarities between these creatures my friend Aubrey and I created in our book Connection. Ironic.

When talking about a problem Part, Schawrtz specifically named them, "Protectors". Most things similar to my anxiety problem are born because something traumatic happened, so a part was created to defend from that ever happening again. The parts that the Protectors are trying to protect are what Shwartz calls "The Exiles". The goal of Parts Therapy is to convince the Protector to let you see the Exile so you can sort of mentally step back into the moment where you were hurt and "reparent" the Exile; tell it what it needed to hear then. That's when you start to heal and your Protector starts to find a different role to play within you.

It's important not to hate your Protectors. After all, they're still a part of you and they aren't trying to do you harm. I struggle with that when I talk to Ani.

My point is, I had an interesting experience with Ani today. I've come to realize more and more recently how much of a role Ani plays in keeping me from writing. Very often, I get a strong sense of foreboding or impending doom whenever I sit down to write, or even if I think about sitting down to write. I wanted to know why, so I brought Ani out and asked it, "What are you afraid will happen if I write?"

Initially, all it said was that I'd ruin the story, but that answer didn't feel complete, so I tried digging deeper. Eventually I discovered exactly what the title of this post says.

You see, I hear stories all the time of writers who are constantly doubted by their peers and have to learn to overcome that. That's a problem I've never had. All my life, when people found out I was a writer, they would exclaim how awesome that was, how they couldn't wait to read my stuff someday, or that I was bound to be the next Rowling. As far as my writing goes, I've never once been doubted by those around me. I've always been believed in and encouraged. That's why Ani had to come in. Ironic, isn't it. You see, the lack of doubt from everyone led me to believe that I was capable of great things, that I really could be a great writer someday. No matter what I say or do, the Perfectionist in me will accept nothing less than stunning work from me. Anything less, and I wouldn't just be letting myself down, but everyone who'd ever known me. True, that sounds ridiculous and exaggerated, but if it weren't how I felt, Ani wouldn't have stepped in to keep me from writing and facing the inevitable pang of failure.

My Perfectionist part is one of the Exiles Ani has long tried to protect. It makes sense that I would dread sitting down to write. No matter how much faith I have in my creativity, I can't write a perfect first draft. But my Perfectionist doesn't care which draft it is. If it's broken, it's worthless and I've let a lot of people down. More than that, even if I did manage to get  past draft one and even get published, not everyone whose encouraged me over the years is going to like what I write. My Perfectionist says that means I let them down. One way or another, writing at all is bound to make me a failure, so Ani makes me afraid of it so whatever pain I feel could arguably be less than what  it could've been.

This whole post seems very pessimistic and you may be wondering why I didn't just step in and reparent my Exile like I was  supposed to. Then I would be on the road to recovery and this wouldn't be a problem anymore. Well, I was going to, but I just don't know what to say. My exile often tries to break free, like when I'd enter a writing contest, but when I'd lose and not even be acknowledged, my Exile would be further bruised. That's part of why Ani's so strong these days. It's also why I have so many memories of my Exile In my life. I can't reparent every memory, can I? Even if I could, I ask you, what exactly do you say to something that's been damaged because it's always been believed in?

That's all. Thanks for listening to my pity fest.

Anxiety

As far as I know, the only people who are aware of this are my immediate family. This isn't something I have comfortably opened up about to hardly anyone, even my closest friends. Although, I did have to talk to some teachers about it, which was not a fun experience. Bleh.

Anxiety is something I think I've been struggling with since at least 9th grade. That's at least when I started to notice my phobia of crowds. Since then it has been getting progressively worse until last summer when it blew up. Now my anxiety and resulting depression have gotten to the point that it's effecting my school work to such a degree that I may not get the scholarship I've been working for since sophomore year. There are many assignments I missed. Yesterday, I stayed up until one in the morning finishing them up so I could turn them in today. The rest of the night was spent crying, panicing, and trying to get myself relaxed enough to fall asleep. I even took a hot bath in an attempt to trick my body into being relaxed. That was around two in the morning. I didn't fall asleep until 3:30.

The whole night I was talking myself in and out of going to school today. If I did, at the very least I could turn in missing assignments in my important classes and thereby save my grades. Hopefully. When morning came and I was awakened by an overly cheerful phone, I still hadn't made a decision. In the end, I didn't go to school today. I resigned myself to being a failure for this term and even drafted an email to send to all my teachers. Tomorrow, my brother is going to go to school for me to turn in the assignments so I don't fail. He's really nice.

This is something that I am aware isn't a big deal. All I would have to do is talk to my teachers and turn stuff in, then I could probably just go home if I needed to. But the very thought of it brought me close to vomiting or passing out, depending on whether or not I was standing. I used to be able to do stuff like this, and that's where most my frustration comes from. I feel as if as I'm getting older, I am only digressing, and it's not even in a way that makes sense.

Most of my anxiety comes in regards to school. Why? I have no idea. You'd think it would be because of the three college classes I'm taking, but you would be wrong. My college classes don't cause me hardly any stress. It's my lower level classes that stress me out. Honestly, my theory for this is because with my college classes we have to move at a fast pace and don't have time to waste on dumb projects that make me uncomfortable so I don't always feel like I'm wasting my time in those classes. They also don't make me feel degraded when I try to find a loop hole out of a project I don't like. That's just a theory though.

Also, you'd think work would be stressing me out too since I have to work so many hours right now and I'm a manager and it sometimes lessens my sleep . . . well, actually that's not really true. Even if I didn't close on weekdays, I'd still go to bed at midnight. But the point is the mesh of responsibility I have now and the fact that I don't really like some of the people I work with and that I sort of despise my job should be stressing me out, but it mostly just bugs me. I think it's just that since I'm a manager at work, I feel like I'm in control. I'm not as in control at school.

We had to go talk to my counselor yesterday to figure out my schedule for next semester so I hopefully won't miss as much school. The way it is right now, we've scraped my classes down to the bare minimum and I won't have to go to school at all on B days. We'll see how that works for me.

So far, I feel as if nothing we've tried is making me any better. I'm on three medications (I should be on four, but I'm scared of clonazapam), and I can't tell if they work for me. My dad's probably going to schedule me for an appointment with a therapist too. It's driving me crazy.

The worst bit is, I have no idea what causes this. I have theories, like I've said, but none of them really sound right. How are you supposed to fix something if you don't even know what the problem is? Ick.

Anyway, I don't really know why I'm writing this. Probably because I'm at work right now and I'm really bored. I'm not even sure how many people actually believe me when I tell them this is a problem. Some might assume I'm over exaggerating or just looking for pity since I do like being the most miserable. Believe what you want, but I can promise you that this is most definitely a problem, and it really, really sucks.