things

i feel empty right now.

(i took a picture of this empty house the other day. the door knocked creeped me out.)

but then, empty isn’t quite the right word for it.

but then it is again.

my brain is confused.

i don’t feel like blogging but i do feel like writing. rambling, really.

i read this earlier.

then laughed because i related on like, all levels. green backpack included.

after that i read this earlier.

wonderful.

so it inspired me to do this.

i’ve been stumbling onto really, really amazing and inspiring and invigorating blogs filled with beautiful writers and even more beautiful words. one wrote a book i bought and she asked her readers to fill a blank page with everything they loved. and, since i feel weird and uncomfortable and tavi mentioned reminding yourself off all the wonderful things in your life when you’re down, this makes sense.

things i love. written in no particular order. the other day. in my notebook. (plus a few added on because why not?)

WORDS. writing. music. nature. trees. hiking. mother earth. yoga. walking. breathing deep. making tea. cooking. reading. connecting. sharing. talking. listening. helping. hugging. kissing. photography. men. women. sam. my parents. my brother. laughing. breakfast. singing. dancing. acid. weed. water. my water bottle. poetry. sunlight. redwoods. nate. victoria. road trips. drug trips. bass lines. my journal. journaling. exploring. moving. chocolate. kale. cake. my hair. my eyes. my eyebrows. my smile. the beatles. animal collective. waking up early. staying up late. tarot readings. traveling. flying. san francisco. the beauty of marin county. orgasms. good food. good company. meeting new people. the night sky. summer. summer nights. mountains beyond mountains. swimming. earring. beautiful lyrics. rings. sunsets. sunrises. spoken word. chuck. old trucks. baking. orange. purple. scarves. indian food. thai food. skirts. brussel sprouts. my sunglasses. gender discussions. this american life. (and subsequently) ira glass.

aaaand i’m done.

what do you love?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: also, i love beauty and the beast. my dad put it on and i’m watching it with him. it’s kind of got a great lesson and as much as i hate on disney, i still like their movies. and belle was always the princess i identified with the most. she loved books. i loved her.)

(p.p.s: adding this p.p.s the day after. this totally worked in helping me feel awesome and reinvigorated, by the way! fell asleep happy.)

a story about silence

i remember the television blaring on all days of my childhood.

(source)
i remember the radio announcer speaking to my mom as she primped and primed herself for the day.

i remember music in my ears on the bus, as i did homework, while i read.

i remember words without meaning pouring into gaps in conversation.

i remember anything to cover up the silence.

the absence of noise woke the fear in my mind. the fear unfolded stories about ghosts in every creak of my wooden home, about loneliness amplified, about unwanted thoughts staging an attack. noise blanketed the drop offs into the unknown so that i never quite dropped. much like the characters in kurt vonnegut’s short story “welcome to the monkey house”, sound severed my thoughts from growing. i remained distracted, anxious for the next silent moment.

i went to a jesuit high school, one that required its students to attend retreats with religious tones. as a girl opposed to religion and anything remotely religious, i entered retreats a fairly closed-minded skeptic. especially my senior year, the longest of the retreats. for four days a random chunk of my senior class and i embarked on this journey. which, along with talk of jesus, spirituality, and life-in-general, included meals. eaten in silence.

imagine.

dining tables lined with seventeen and eighteen year old kids wiggling in discomfort with eyes focused solely on food, with minds shrieking WHAT THE FUCK. ears catch the only sounds to be caught: cutlery against plates, food against teeth.

no one knew how to navigate the soundscape of silence.

i struggled to understand the purpose. what did silence at the dinner table do for me? what purpose did swallowing my food and my words serve? i wanted to talk to my friends. to laugh. to compare notes. but retreat leaders kept our vocal chords at rest.

i graduated high school in 2007. yet, it is now, in 2012, that i understand the beauty in silence.

silence removes distraction, allows for intentions to become clear, for thoughts to manifest fully instead of getting lost in music notes or t.v banter. thoughts become a lot less scary when you hear them out. loneliness somehow melts away, too. you hear your heart in the quiet. you see yourself as alive, as connected. not alone. never alone.

a space without excess noise brings me a sense of calm, too. though it used to bring me anxiety (and sometimes still does, especially in conversation). i feel much more relaxed here, sitting on the couch writing, listening only to the wind talk with the birds and the house clock tick in the dining room. i am comfortable. not anxious. not scared.

there is a reason i find solace in the mountains.
there is a reason i will settle down on a hillside some day when i’m grown up.

like any other habit, adjusting to silence takes time. you cannot understand the importance of silence in a day. it took me about five years to scratch the surface and i am still exploring. be curious anyway, even if you’re impatient (like me). practice at living in silence. explore its depths. see what happens.

i think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at what you uncover.

namaste

zoe

self-love sunday

the right words to start this ramble are not at my fingertips.

(me and daises yesterday in san francisco sunshine)

this week was weird, right?

filled with heavy energy. i slept in weird cycles, experienced insomnia for the better part of the week, woke up foggy every day. an underlying sadness tinted the week.

i spent hours unloading into my journal. honest thoughts. confused thoughts. too many thoughts.

and saw my truth:
i am only honest in words, in writing.

i have so much to say to so many people. so many thoughts and feelings and conversations i want to vocalize. not necessarily pleasant ones, either. but each time i gather the strength and steadiness to open my mouth, it stays closed. those inflated words deflate, fall back to their homes in my chest, and i implode silently.

i am as emotionally developed as my seventeen-year-old self.

i’m too busy being nice, good, easy, to speak my truth, to find my voice and use it. as i explained to a friend the other day: “i am going through the teenage rebellion i never had.“

(although, ironically, i was very quick to share my opinion when i was a teenager)

or, maybe, more accurately, i am going through the quarter life crisis no one talks about. either way, i am a big ball of feelings with no outlet other than my pen and paper. everything inside me is screaming for release. i can’t be afraid of how other people react anymore. it’s not a burden i need to carry. it’s not one i want to carry. this lack of sense of self has me floating int a weird, uncomfortable, shaky place. i’m running around trying to find my self in other people.

i gotta get over this. i’m not as fragile as i keep telling myself.

this week, i’m shooting for honesty.

off the page.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: remember when i mentioned phantogram the other music monday? well, give the phantogram pandora station a listen. hot damn.)

(p.p.s: i haven’t felt like blogging at all this week.)

self-love sunday

before i start a recap of sorts:

(flowers on a walk the other day)

today my little brother turns eighteen.

kind of like cinderella pulling her whole transformation, my brother is an adult now (though not in a dress and carriage-made-from-pumpkin), suddenly. an adult. like, legal. which is weird because i remember when he was born, how little he was in my own little arms.

to commemorate the occasion, i am making chili bread bowls, per his request. and cake. because birthdays are not birthdays without cake in my eyes.

yup.

anyway.

so, i am working on friendships. on connecting and reconnecting with people who truly, deeply matter. often times we chase friendships or people who clearly show no interest in slowing their retreat. we wonder, “why am i left behind?” while the solids in our lives trail us, wondering “why doesn’t she turn around?”.

confession: i am a die-hard chaser.

i pour attention and affection into friendships my intuition chirps are “one sided”. i did it in early friendships. i did it in high school. i did it in college. i do it now. worrying about how i stand in the lives of part-time friends prompts the burn of anxiety. of loneliness. of depression. it also hurts the real friendships i have, as those true sources of joy distance themselves, shaking their heads at my breathless game of catch and release.

slowly i am understanding the need to balance the energy i put into relationships, including the one i hold with myself. i cannot give away my reserves so quickly, so willingly, so entirely to people.

i spent a lot of time with old friends this week (ones from college and one from high school). i noticed the goofy ultra-dork reemerging. easily and naturally. there was never a sense of “am i good enough?“, only “god i missed this”. i did not experience a need to be anyone other than the person i am, to prove something my mind made up. there was no judgement. no anxiety. just a lot of laughter.

i know i am never alone. i know a lot of the time i think myself into a space for one and tell myself no one cares (not true). i am getting there, though. realizing i make myself alone when i concentrate on those part-time friends, when i forget all those beautiful people in my life who are, always, open and willing to embrace me when i need it the most, not when it suits their schedules.

do you ever find yourself worrying over relationships that bring you more unease than ease?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: did any of that make sense? i feel like that was a bunch of word-vomit.)

things my ego gave me

i don’t remember when i got so scared.

(source)
of sharing. of speaking my truth. of life itself.

i don’t remember forfeiting my happiness. i just remember waking up one day with a vague idea of having lost something.

i don’t remember fanning out the fire of my character till it glowed so dim as to be easily forgotten.

i don’t remember when doubt crowned himself the king of all decisions.

i don’t remember embarrassment building me a house to live in, a house to never leave.

somewhere along the way, the fiery, opinionated, passionate, mover of a girl i was, (am), decided to play a really long, really difficult game of hide-and-go-seek. every time i thought i found her, it turned out i had only stumbled on the echo of her.

i used to laugh all the time. i used to crack jokes over jokes over jokes. i dipped into my weirdness openly, showcased it for friends and family and newcomers alike. i enjoyed the awkwardness, the oddities of my personality and character. i rejoiced it. i knew no one like me simply because there was no one like me.

then, i stumbled. my ego hissed at me: “no one will like you. what are you doing here? what did you just say? dear god, why did you just say what you just said?”

so i tried on pieces of personalities i liked, absorbed well received traits of others like a vortex. i worried so much and so well over things like “do they like me?” and “if i do/say/act like that he and she and all of them won’t like me anymore. they’ll think i’m weird.” the real me got scared. she hid and stayed hidden.

yesterday, i danced in an empty house for ten solid minutes, giggling like a five year old laughing the whole time. unfavorable thoughts snuck their way into the happy space i created. i stopped laughing. my ego found my self dancing freely and said, “um, do you know how stupid you look right now?”

my self faltered. stopped flailing. arms found tighter, more controlled movements. legs suddenly preferred mere shuffling over jumping and swinging. my self apologized. then, thought further, and corrected herself: “oh, fuck it.” wild limbs were wild once more.

the people i find myself admiring the most present their whole selves. all those flaws and all those beauties. they don’t apologize for who they are. they just are.

i used to be like that.

which means i can be that, again.

it means i can move out of the house embarrassment built me. it means i can coop d’etat doubt right off his throne. it means i can relight my fire, let it burn and burn. it means i can be happy again. it means i won’t be the wrong kind of scared.

it means, simply, i can be me.

again.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: thanks for your anxiety tips. using them next time i feel all kinds of uncomfortable!)

reiki and feelings in general

today i spent an hour and a half on a massage table.

(source)
not a regular type of massage. a combination massage. a reiki/chakra/energy healing massage. i cannot quite put into words how wonderful the entire experience was. by the time i sat up words lost their importance. mainly because i felt it too difficult to speak clearly. a lightness circulated through me. an energy. loose legs carried me to the car and a calm heart carried me through the remainder of my early afternoon.

yet…

i am really sad right now. i tried staving it off all day but. sometimes simply accepting how you feel helps you move through it. for a week i’ve shown myself nothing close to love. just silent, harsh words meant to cut deep and actions stemming from the roots of self-loathing. anxiety keeps burning a hole in my chest. i am submerged in a listless self-doubt. this is like screaming underwater. no one can hear you and all sound comes out as bubbles anyway.

the woman who massaged me earlier told me there was a lot of energy inside of me. she told me that sometimes, it takes the body a little while to catch up with the energy of your spirit, that our physical selves don’t necessarily know how to handle all the energy we absorb. she told me i am on the right path. i believe her and am happy to know eventually i will find balance and openness but right now, it’s a little difficult to just fucking move.

i want to cry but i can’t.
i want to tell people i love them and share sweet words with them but i am too busy sinking and doling out curt responses i never meant to let fly.
i want to be open and honest but my voice is missing.
i want to enjoy my life, receive love and give love in equal amounts, but i am so stuck in indecision i am immobilized.

i know all of this is happening for a reason. i know that in my heart of hearts.

but this still fucking sucks.

namaste

zoe

(edit: i feel much better now. had a heart to heart with myself earlier. this up and down stuff is difficult to manage when you start letting yourself feel instead of the opposite)

fuck.

i feel like shit.

i just cried the entire trip home from san francisco.

i am exhausted. drained. defeated.

i am so sick of being sad. i am so sick of myself.

no matter how i try to objectively view the emotions i meet along my daily paths, i wind up wholly engulfed in them. i mold an untrue environment, one the brush strokes of my imagination paint me out of. i am not welcomed into the homes and lives of people who love me. i lose all importance, all worth, all use and dissolve into the background. i grow uncomfortable by the energy i create and project.

people only pick up and mirror back to you what you put out.

every time i sink deep, deep, deep into the quicksand of self-hatred i go numb. i disregard all the happiness around me — all the smiles, the laughs. the only answer i give to “hey are you okay?” is the most transparent of smiles and a “yeah. i’m fine.” because how do you explain to people how unwanted you feel? how do you tell people who ask you what you’re thinking about when you’re staring expressionlessly at space that you’re thinking about how disgusting you feel? how annoying and awkward you believe you are? how thoroughly disconnected you feel?

my happiness belongs to others, dictated by shallow compliments and ego caressing affirmations. it doesn’t come from my own sense of self. i trap myself here, in this dark, dank space of endless negativity. i do this to me. no one tells me i am unwelcomed. no one tells me i am hideous. no one tells me i am annoying or stupid or unfunny or completely worthless. i am the one spoon feeding bullshit to myself. i am the one poisoning any and all chances with happiness i might have.

i want to scream. i want to crawl out of my skin. i feel so trapped. so ashamed for feeling empty when i have so much. i don’t know how to let go. i don’t know how to rid my body and mind and spirit of all the shit holding me down. i feel so heavy. uncreative. unmotivated. emotionally wasted and spiritually deadened. i don’t know what to do anymore.

can someone explain to me why negativity has so much more power than positivity?

namaste

zoe

resettling

unhappy waves returned.

(a san francisco sunset the other day.)

a few days ago, actually. the high of the early year left my system. reality plucked me up by the head and dropped me on me ass. just to say, “yes, all this shit is still here, and yes, you still need to deal with it.” well, universe, i hear you.

though i feel better today, i am still aware of how delicate this space is. i am still working out balancing, releasing, and moving forward. i am still managing my anxiety too which, honestly, can be a huge battle (one i never really discuss here). to tell you the truth, the past few days saw very little self-love. i definitely back slid a little bit. poor choices made out of the depths of self-doubt served me no purpose, except to unhinge me.

i think though, we all need to be unhinged from time to time. someone is asking you to really consider your reactions. each time i am presented with a difficulty, whether it be an emotion or a situation, i am challenged to respond from a place of self-compassion. as a life-long self-hater, responding gently is not easy. at all. but the fact that i am aware of what triggers me and of how i naturally react allows me to slow down, breathe, and consider my options. i no longer feel like a roaring, whirling hurricane of emotion hellbent on destroying my sanity. one bad day will not offset the rest of my week or the rest of my month anymore. though i fucked up yesterday (really) i love myself enough to be well today. i am not shrugging and telling myself “what’s the use?” i am shrugging and telling myself “that was yesterday, this is today.” every moments offers you a new step in a positive direction.

the more i stumble into hard to swallow emotional situations, the more i see how old habits no longer suit me. i find my body asking for things like yoga, bubble baths, and long walks. and music. somuchmusic. frantic moments don’t leave me standing in front of an open fridge or hunched over a bag of this or a carton of that. i am recreating myself, mindful moment by mindful moment. i am reentering my body, reorienting myself with the space i occupy (who knew it was so hard to feel your body! seriously though.). i am taking control of the things i can control and releasing the idea of controlling the things i cannot control (like the future, outcomes, and expectations.).

this isn’t easy. but this is the work i need to do right now. if i am not centered and okay with myself, i am anxious, critical, edgy, and rash with other people. before i move forward with relationships or big moves or achieving dreams, i first need to deal with myself. i don’t know how long this is going to take but i know that patience is on my side. no matter how dark some days get around here, there is always a light i can focus on. considering how lost i used to be in my tunnel of darkness, i am pretty satisfied with the occasional dimly light day. because i know it’s just that: occasional.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: i totally finished putting together my space last night. best hippie den yet! it’s comfortable, relaxing, and sort of like a little retreat for me. isn’t that what personal spaces are supposed to be? i am trying to take care of the space around me, as i am a firm believer in how much your outer space reflects your inner space. calm and collected = neat and organized. crazy and whirring = messy as all hell.

what you don’t see: john lennon on the back of my door. a wall full of hats. a treadmill (bleh, no where else to put it. it found its home in my room when i left for college). a dresser with a tv (not used. will use for treadmill walks once it starts raining). another tapestry. my jewelry holder. different colored walls. yup. it’s shaping up to be the best room i’ve ever lived in. i love decorating!)

(p.p.s: THANK YOU for the responses yesterday. sososo appreciated. you all are the best. just so you know )