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.)

self-love sunday: some rambles (it’s been a long week)

sleepy, per usual.

(san francisco at sun down, the other day)

my nocturnal clock is off. (or: i stayed up too late drinking whiskey in honor of st. patrick’s day but mainly in honor of one of my best friend’s birthdays).

this week has been weird. light and heavy in all moments, together. sluggish, too. i’ve spent a lot of time observing my emotions, feeling them out. simply a quiet week, peppered with overwhelming, abundant moments too intricate to explain. the best way to describe it: i am reentering consciousness.

the world looks like ireland outside my window. earlier this week fog ate into the tops of mountains, obscuring them. now clouds mix with blue sky i missed. everything is green. save for the one tree, defiant in holding yellow. i’m contemplating a cup of coffee. i’m thinking, in general.

i miss my friends. i miss sitting around smoking bowls and talking, talking, talking. i miss the closeness. i miss the connection. i miss knowing they’ll always be there. most days i keep the company of an empty house and an over-active mind. often my irrationality tells me i am slipping from friends’ consciousnesses. often i believe it. deep down i question my importance. my therapist tells me i am co-dependant and i can’t disagree. i’m still learning to appreciate my self, still searching for such self-acceptance and self-love in other people. still measuring my self-worth in the number of phone calls and texts and tips-of-the-hat i receive each week. it’s like this: fun things happen and i’ll find out about them later via stories, laugh and wonder why i am not helping tell them instead. wonder where invitations disappear to. wonder why i care.

frequently i wonder, too, “will i ever be settled?”

i think i know the answer. (i know — zoe, stop. we know. weknowweknowweknow. these thoughts are real, though. they’re not arbitrary. they’re as real as your fear of the dark or your fear of heights. let me feel. let me explore. let me process and progress as slowly as i need to. sit on your judgement because i am not judging you and your process.)

my heart feels sealed off. frozen in uncertainty, sadness, self-loathing and overwhelm. there are truths there, buried deep and fully-alive though only half-recognized. the me i want to be, the me i am, the me i see, will not come out. she’s rooted. stuck. available to only one or two people in my life.

i crave intimacy and authenticity like i do chocolate and cake and brussel sprouts (lack of such things in my life are some of the main reasons my eating disorder lives). times exist where i sit in the company of someone i love and we stumble into an opening, an invitation to speak, to pour my self out. words warm in my chest, bubble up to my throat, roll out onto my tongue, ready. i think, “this is it! it’s time! say it, say it, say it!” but i rarely do. instead i’ll swallow those truths back, slide them past my beating heart and into their caves where they’ll strip off their armor and wait for the next moment to be brave. it hurts every time.

someone told me recently, “you can’t hold all of that inside“. oh, but i do. i’m not good at asking for what i need. what i need feels like too much. so my quietness becomes my way of screaming. “i’m fine” is the biggest lie i’ve ever told.

possibly the craziest part of this crazy is this: i know my real friends love me deeply and unconditionally. i am the one who chooses to not understand, to not grasp fully what that type of love means. i am the one who nods in agreement on the outside while simultaneously rejecting any iota of love on the inside. i recognize i am generally the one keeping myself trapped and bound by fear.

my insides are all messed up. i will always be cleaning house.

i’ve frustrated and hurt a lot of people because of this persistant sadness i can’t quite figure out. i’m afraid that’s only helped distance me from my friends and my friends from me. i’ve let it swallow me entirely, isolate me fully. i’ve let it infiltrate all relationships. i feel like i’ve let a lot of people down, myself included. so it’s no surprise, really, that i struggle to talk to people. no one really knows me, truly. i won’t let them. because i fear losing everyone.

talk about irrational fears.

the good news (yes, there is some) is this: despite my negative rambling, i am getting better. i am opening up. i am slowly, slowly, shedding my fear of abandonment. the more i talk, the more i release. it’s a practice. kind of like strengthening a muscle. work it a little bit, watch it grow stronger.

i’m not sure when i will be able to separate my self-worth from my friendships but i am hopeful one day it will happen. i am hopeful one day i will see myself as my friends see me — as a whole person, not only flaws. i am hopeful one day i will freely ask for what i need without fearing judgement and complete rejection. i am hopeful one day i will be myself without apology, without wanting to be anyone else. i am hopeful that, one day, i will be okay.

this is my process.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: i wrote this in pieces this week, while floating in a weird, weird mood. today i woke up in much brighter spirits. i blame the whiskey fest and the company of one of my best friends, one i never feel shaky or questionable in front of. that and the sun is back after a week of straight rain. and i’m going on a hike!!)

music monday + an announcement

music:

friend loaded this onto my computer a few weeks back. cannotcannotcannot stop listening. i love anything sufjan stevens. so, obviously, i lovelovelove this. in the car, on walks, writing, dancing. any time. it’s lovely.

announcement:

i was waiting for the appropriate time to share this and, well, the time feels right.

a month from today i will be in germany, starting a two and a half month long travel journey.

though i will spend roughly the first 10 days with my dad, we will leave each other in london on april 21st, at which point i will embark on a solo trip. I AM FUCKING STOKED. traveling abroad is a childhood dream, one i’ve been saving for since i starting collecting birthday money before i hit the double digits in age. i am going everywhere i can. every where my bank account can take me. my rough plan puts starts me in england, leads me to ireland, to spain, to southern france, to italy, to switzerland, possibly up through germany again, to belgium, and back to paris, france where i fly out of.

one more time: I AM SO FUCKING STOKED.

for a really long time i thought and believed i needed to travel with another person. for safety purposes, for loneliness purposes, for but i encountered a few problems with that plan. i met two types of people: ones with money but with no balls, and ones with balls but no money. no one ever seemed able to travel with me. i got tired of waiting, of sitting on my steadily growing unrest.

about a month ago my dad told me about a brewery tour his company was flying him out to germany for. the restless creature inside of me perked up. and, well, that was that. i hopped on that trip, not waiting for the consent of my parents because, oh, yeah, i’m an adult and don’t need to do that anymore. i forget that sometimes. honestly, i feel lucky to not be traveling with anyone. there is a freedom in solo journeys you can’t get while traveling with others. i am bound only by my loose plans and the breeze of curiosity. i like to believe that all this time i’ve been spending alone has prepped me some for the quiet days i will face.

am i terrified? yes.
am i excited? fuck yes.

i anticipate learning a lot. i anticipate a few tense moments. mostly though, i anticipate not coming back the same person. that’s all i can really ask for.

i am telling you all this because i am not bringing my computer. i doubt i will blog much, if at all. this trip isn’t about sitting in front of a screen. it’s about exploring sleepy towns, foreign cities, and the depths of my self. it’s about expanding and learning. it’s about fulfilling my 2012 intentions: doing things that scare me the most.

please share any traveling tips, places to see, hostels to stay at. share anything. and know that yes, i know to be safe. i ask you to not scare me like everyone is trying to do.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: why are egg yolks like, so fucking good? mmm dinner.)

so i watched demi lovato’s documentary (this one is long)

and, surprisingly, i almost cried a few times.

(source)

girl was honest. at the end i wanted to like, sit down with her and talk and talk and talk. i know MTV showed her in a specific slant but she talked candidly about issues not widely discussed (see the post before last).

she said things i related to. brought up questions i asked and continue to ask all.the.time.

her honesty tapped mine on the shoulder, said, “come on, man, just let it out.”

so.

here it goes.

(THIS IS VERY OPEN)

friends relate to the thoughts. not the extremes. explaining thought processes to their fruition (e.g: ending up over the toilet) never happens. i keep a lot under wraps for a variety of reasons. mainly because no one i know is a bi-polar bulimic with anorexic tendencies. at least outwardly, anyway. additionally, a lot of friends dismiss my worries as needing to get laid or needing to reap more gratitude. not that i disagree entirely but. that hurts. that makes me think and believe my feelings are overly dramatic and childish and not worth discussing or believing. after a while you give up on honest connection and just fucking agree, you know?

i know a lot of what i experience emotionally everyone experiences emotionally. yet, not everyone chooses to hurt themselves. not every ends up acting out those creepy things lurking around in the darkness of your self. and i really don’t want to keep pretending i am not genuinely troubled.

if i survey my twenty-two years, i can tell you this sadness did not start a mere two and a half years ago. it started in my childhood. i remember being called a cry-baby at age seven. i remember friends distancing themselves from the overly-emotional and very sensitive child, whose contradictory bouts of wild energy caused teachers to speak privately with my mom and a friend’s mom to say something like “i don’t think you should hang out with zoe”. i remember feeling awkward and uncomfortable and worthless by age nine.

i remember friends in middle school telling me i was too sad too often. one girl told me i was depressed and wanted to drag everyone down with me. which was not true. not true. i just felt a lot and was confused and wanted someone to tell me it would eventually be okay. that i would eventually be okay. after that i shut myself up. stopped spilling the secrets buried in my heart. i stopped thinking i was special enough to be heard. i sealed myself off and learned to play the role of “helpful” despite crying myself to sleep frequently. by the end of middle school, my mom asked me one day if i wanted to “see someone” (a therapist, namely). i ignored the request because there was nothing wrong.

but i remember being angry all the time. i remember crying, hating myself so much. once, i jokingly played with scissors and my wrist. i was only half-joking. (i’ve never said that to anyone)

i cried myself through the first two and a half years of high school. the self-hatred formed in my childhood carried into my teens, multiplied and manifested. i mellowed out a lot my senior year. found a group of friends who loved and accepted me. the next surge electrified me my freshman year of college (makes sense). the crying started up again. the depression.

when i read through old journals, i am struck by the deep sadness written in the pages. part adolescent angst, part deep emotion children don’t regularly feel. the words hurt me now, years later.

of course, i’ve experienced happiness, too. i’ve had numerous happy days. i’ve had a lot of people in my life who love the person i am. i cannot discount any of that. however, the heaviness of my sadness often feels extraordinary.

and totally mystifying.

because i know the extent of beauty in my life. of privledge, of love, of abundance. i want to stress too that i never asked to feel the things i feel. i never asked for the thoughts that make no sense in conjunction with the elements that make up my life.

i understand the saying “you are what you think” but, sometimes, my thoughts do not feel like my own. they creep out of shadows. become a loud sound i can’t drown out with happiness or gratitude or a good fuck. even when life goes right, i still struggle. the heaviness never lifts entirely. sadder still is how well i’ve learned to numb it out, to shrug it off and pretend like all is fine (being vulnerable is hard).

i’ve been trying not to overthink. i’ve been trying to talk myself down. but, you know, it’s like, how long can you pretend you’re okay? i can’t do that to myself anymore, deny reality.

example:

one of the syptoms of bi-polar (II) is racing thoughts, ones that make you keep late hours and develop insomnia (because the brain won’t shut up).

and right now my mind is goinggoingoing. i can’t keep my focus on one thought for very long. my heart is racing, too. i’m all panicky. jittery. i feel like i have so much energy but i haven’t slept properly in three weeks (6 am bedtime last night though i got into bed at 1) and wake up heavy and slow. i don’t really feel like i can breathe well. i’m crying, not crying. yet, i started the day over the moon happy. i wentwentwent all day. i laughed a lot. felt light.

yet.

here i am.

inching closer to midnight, exhausted in theory, but feeling incapable of sleeping.

i wrote this for a variety of reasons.

i wrote this for myself.

i wrote this because it’s okay to own your emotions and thoughts, to acknowledge them as real and worthy of discussing and i needed to prove that to myself.

i wrote this for you, sitting there, lost, unable to explain anything you think or do to anyone, even yourself.

i wrote this to show you’re never alone, even if you think you are.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: now i feel naked. metaphorically speaking.)

(p.p.s: and much lighter. talk about needing to let some stuff out, huh?)

(p.p.p.s: i really need to work on talking to people in my life i can physically touch.)

clean house, clean heart

i woke up writing poetry i forget now.

(a tree without leaves the other day on a walk)

a song rooted down into my conscious after the words disappeared with the morning fog.

limbs ached to express, to twirl.

(of course i obliged.)

i want to say i am proud of myself but that doesn’t sound right.

blissfully astonished does.

yes.

because i keep waking up.

every day.

i keep recommitting.

keep
breathing
reaching
expanding
shedding.

after dancing, after breakfast at noon, i confronted my closet.

threw away piles of clothing holding
the old me,
suffocating the present me
by living in trash bags just out of reach.

now i have two pairs of pants. three if you count my tie dye ones.

which i do.

anyway…

i’ve got a mountain to explore! it’s sunshiney outside and i’ve got little tolerance for sitting inside when it’s so beautiful out there!

namaste

zoe

music monday + monday lessons

mmm monday.

(san francisco on saturday on random street walks with my friend)

a light breeze, fat clouds, sunshine kind of monday.

i woke up intending to work out the whole day because i ate cake last night and militant, dictator zoe ordered it to be done. under strict authority, i laced up tennis shoes after i slipped out of my sheets and dreamy early morning haze. i skipped breakfast too for good measure. funny how plans figure their way out, though.

because the television spazzed out. and my brother came home sick from school. and my stomach grumbled loudly. and i picked up a pen and undid my tennis shoes. and i wrote into my journal. and i realized: “i still think my weight matters in the measure of happiness. so i still chase it as being the problem of all my problems” (journal quotes). silly anxious and negative self. it’s just cake, not the devil. calm yourself.

so i ate some breakfast, ate some more cake, laced up my tennis shoes, and took the walk i actually wanted. i listened to two pod-casts, did some yoga in the park under the sun, felt the grass beneath my feet. three or so hours later i am home, rested and happy and not thinking about that cake from last night or the cake from earlier. just how awesome my legs feel and how settled my heart is in my chest.

and how awesome this song is.

because i am in love with bon iver.

and mondays, for that matter.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: please don’t steal my photos. thanks!)

thoughts from long walks

i am currently waiting on cookies in the oven and kale chips in the dehydrator.

(on a walk the other day in sonoma county with a close friend)

a good metaphor for my life, don’t you think?

i’ve got no big message today. no deep, thought out words.

nothing is A-FUCKING-MAZING. and nothing is particularly soul crushing. i am merely existing today, enjoying the seventy-eight degree sun rays and the smells of my kitchen. i am reveling, simply.

last night i preformed poetry again. words direct from my heart. unlike last week, i showed up with a louder voice and more nerves. i stumbled a bit though i spent hours and hours burning the lines into my memory, talking to an empty house, the bay, passing cars and, finally, a circle of strangers. practice doesn’t always mean perfect. nothing means perfect because perfect doesn’t exist.

a funny thing happened when i finished and reclaimed my seat: nothing attacked me inside. yes, i shook and tripped over a few lines but that negative voice stayed locked inside. in fact, i heard nothing. just felt a sense of release and empowerment i am still trying to wrap my mind around. just thought, “i did it” quietly while the words of others filled the balmy san francisco evening.

i took a walk with my self and my headphones this morning. drank a decaf americano. danced the whole way home. thought and rethought those hopes i scribbled for the new-year.

i’ve spent a lot of time since we jumped into 2012 thinking i was a big fat failure. thinking i was doing nothing right, making no progress, only sliding, minute by minute, backward to a place i never wanted to see again.

today changed that.

as cars drove past me and sunshine soaked into my bare arms i understood: i am progressing. i never wasn’t.

i am opening my heart to the world, to people, to myself. i am shedding warped ideas of self and happiness. i am gaining a sense of peace and an understanding of life i never thought i would.

perfection has no place in my life anymore. i am reclaiming the person i used to be. the person i always was.

bumps and all.

namaste

zoe

self-love sunday

i don’t even know where to start today.

a lot happened this week. words, however, are not lending themselves to me, rendering me a writer without expression. i’m just a big ball of feeling.

i am learning to trust my feelings, to question my thoughts. to listen to the whispers of the heart, not the analytical murmurings of a brain. i forget i live in my heart, too.

today, on two feet with arms stretched to the sky, i am open to the world and the universe and abundance. last night, a momentary ‘pop’ released pain in my left shoulder. pain i’ve carried for months. the night before i went to a restorative yoga class and cried. i am releasing.

i am creating space.

i am opening.

i keep thinking, “i don’t know what ought to be.”

over and over.

among other things.

(found in jan spiller’s book cosmic love…or astrology for the soul, i can’t remember. i stumbled across this the other day in a bookstore. i sat there and read for an hour).

love inflates the emptiness felt feelings leave behind.

i breathe deeper. fuller.

there is still salt in the sea water of my life. still waves i navigate. but i am buoyed to a warm, steady happiness.

i am learning how to float.

what are you learning?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: thanks for the comments on the last post. you’re all so supportive and awesome. thankyouthankyouthankyou. i have a lot more to say about voice and speaking and discovering. soon enough!)

yesterday

yesterday i walked around san francisco.

all day.

in boots and orange tights.

with a very close friend.

alight with deep happiness and warm from february sunshine.

then, something funny happened. last night. something out-of-character but so in-character.

i took a deep breath.

stepped into the middle of a circle ringed by people and more people — strangers.

and, in front of all these faces i did not know, i read my poetry.

aloud.

can we talk about fears that are irrational?
can we talk about how calm my heart felt in my chest as i performed?
can we talk about evolving?
can we talk about liberation?

can we talk about how fucking great i feel?

namaste

zoe

how are YOU?

you know when you start sinking into your troubles and nothing else quite matters?

(source)
you shuffle around, kick your heels some.
the world looses a bit of its color.
you keep shuffling, you sigh,
sing the one note tune of the blues.

then.

well then someone calls and says, “hey man, i’m going through it. i need to talk.”

or you listen to street side conversations about cars wrecks and souls lost.

and you go home later to see on the news stories about a fire that swallowed a house and two men.

it’s like the universe nudging you a little, saying, “you’re not the only one who carries sadness.”

it’s like the universe going, “see yourself in the world, not the world in yourself.”

we all carry sadness. and

sometimes i forget.

i get lost in my maze of thoughts and emotions, zig-zaggig myself into tight corners with no outlets. i weep sad stories to friends for long, drawn out minutes. yet, as the tale comes to a close, i forget the next question: how are YOU?

i admit it: i’m a human. (and it gets better!) with flaws.

when i am sad, i forget to slow down, sip a long, deep breath into my lungs, and ground myself.
i forget to take a short survey of my life, all its abundance.
i forget to ask myself the important question: “is this really worth stressing out over?“
i forget to ask others: “tell me how you are, what’s going on inside you?“

i am learning how to receive. or, rather, wake up to all i am denying. like all the love, beauty, and warmth. sometimes i ask myself when did i grow so ungrateful? so stubborn? so impatient? when did i forget the lives of others? when did i stop asking, how are you?

i never stopped caring. i just lost myself in myself. how do i expect to feel love if i don’t give love?

so.

how are you, love?

namaste

zoe