Tag Archives: rant

Empathy

Empathy is defined as “the ability to understand and share the feelings of another.”

Were you able to understand how I felt when I opened my heart to you? Or were you too busy shredding me of every bit of dignity I had left?

You did care about me, but only until you weren’t allowed to. You did love me, until the whispers in your ear commanded you not to.

I could feel the pain in your eyes when you left me, but in the end you chose your reputation over me.

If I only I could see through those deep brown eyes of yours who you really are. On the surface, you are a laid-back gentleman with a big heart that everyone gets along with. Underneath that guise, however you are much more in terms with your inner demons than you are willing to accept.

When you commit yourself to someone, you also commit yourself to their mind, heart and soul. When I committed myself to you, I felt a connection to every part of you. Even when I discovered that dark side of you that you will not uncover to maintain that image that you have, I loved you. I could feel that, beneath that layer, there was goodness buried within.

For that reason, I tolerated that side of you that would belittle my feelings and scream and curse at me in public until you made me cry. People would ask why I stay and call you verbally abusive, and I would always defend you whether you were present or absent. I would have liked to imagine it was the same for me. No matter what, I always saw you through rose-colored glasses, and maybe that good self you showed me during the year and a half we were together was a part of the real you.

Regardless, it does not negate the fact that you did not feel the same empathy I had for you during and after our relationship. You had broken many promises the day you left, and you continued to do so afterward. Everything I confided you with that you swore you would take the grave is now out in the open in spite of the fact that I still keep all of your secrets to myself for your sake, you have made it painstakingly obvious that you do express the same concern for how I am doing while I often wonder about your well-being despite everything that has happened between us, and you decided to give me a final stab to the back by saying that I exaggerate my trauma and use it to get attention. You know what the fuck I went through and how it still has an effect on me, yet you still turned it into a joke on social media with your friends.

After all of that, I repressed the pain I felt from your betrayal and cruel words because I felt it was deserved, even if I had given you empathy that you did not reciprocate in the end.

I was not perfect, but I did everything I could to withhold many things I wanted to say to you and protected you from the cruel words of others for your benefit. When you are blessed with empathy toward one’s feelings, you are also cursed with remaining blind to their poor treatment toward you because of all the excuses you have made for them.

I held these feelings in for too long to refrain from hurting your feelings even if you did not spare me the same pain, but in doing so I have kept myself from understanding my own feelings. As I continue to grant you empathy, I deny myself any. So I will continue to write about you until my fingertips tire of doing so.

How do you live in the present when your mind is still in the past?

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Bad Day

Saturday I woke up with a smile on my face.

I got dressed up, put on my eyeshadow and lipstick, took pictures, put them on my Instagram, posted a prose on my Facebook page about finding the light when facing months of darkness, and headed off to work. My plan was that after work, I would attend a writing group I was in and then go to a party afterward. I had psyched myself up for that day considering how the weather and having a bad cold kept me indoors most of last week, isolated away with nothing but my anxiety and bad thoughts circulating in my head.

Perhaps my first indication that the day was not going to go well was that my insomnia decided that I only deserved a half hour of sleep.

The day started off as planned, in spite of sleepiness fighting it’s way to consume me. I fought it off with two cups of coffee, and made my way to work and to the writing meetup.

The thing about bad days is that you don’t know when they will happen. Expectation leads to failure, that is something my ex-boyfriend always used to say and I came to learn that he was right (as much as I hate to admit it) the hard way. This day took a turn for the worse so quickly that I am still trying to process it.

I have had bad days in the past. I have also had time periods in my life where every day seemed like a bad day. Though it seemed impossible to do so at times, I would find myself mustering the strength to power through it all.

These past few months have been an example of a time in my life where I experience a plethora of bad days at once. There are a batch of good days thrown in here and there, but they are always followed up by those bad day(s) where I am faced with an overwhelming amount of bad news and/or experiences where I often wonder when there will be an end to the madness, and if I will even be able to survive long enough to reach that point without just giving up.

Still, I have lived twenty-two years, two months and eight days of my life so far. That is approximately 8,098 days. I am horrible with math, but out of those 8,098 days, the reality is that the amount of bad days I have had can barely even measure up to a quarter of my life. There are also the good days, the semi-good days, the semi-bad days, the neutral days, the so-so days, the pseudo-bad days (as in those days during my adolescent years where it felt like my life was over because I lacked the maturity to realize that what I was going through would not be significant ten years later), the lazy days, the boring days, and the days that made up the first few years of my life where I was too young to comprehend the concept of time.

Even with the bad days I have had and the periods of my life where I was faced with weeks to months of bad days at a time, the reality is that even if life has a habit of hitting us with what seems like an infinite amount of bad days, there is so much to look forward to. You could even find good buried within the crap that life throws at you if you stop looking at the empty half of the glass.

This is not to suggest that you are not allowed to cry, to scream, to vent or to lock yourself away from everyone and everything for a while. You must feel your emotions before you can reach the point of acceptance. Saturday was not my first bad day, and it won’t be my last either. No matter how much better I feel compared to that day, and how insignificant the things that were bothering me that day have become, there is always a promise of more bad days. As someone who suffers from depression, dealing with bad days along with the promise of more bad days to come has overwhelmed me.

I guess what I am trying to say is, bad days are always going to happen. You may wake up on the wrong side of the bed, you may come across news that ruins your day, you may face experiences that affect your life for months or years to come, or you may have a day where everyone and everything triggers you into a fit of rage. The most important thing is that you feel and release the emotions that the bad day brings to you through writing, tears, excersise, drawing, whatever soothes you. It is also important to keep in mind that no matter how difficult life gets, there is always a promise of better days ahead. You may not be in control of everything that happens to you and of the people around you, but you are in control of your emotions and how you choose to handle things and perceive life.


Announcements:

Usually I don’t do this, but I had three announcements I wanted to make.

1. For the next week, I will be releasing a blog or two each day. These are blogs I have written but never posted, ideas I had but never posted, or posts I have started but never finished. It’s not a series in a sense where they all relate to each other, I just wanted to start getting more of my writing out there since I have a lot of free time this month and I am starting to write more again after dealing with a block for a few months. I will say though, that while I did not really go into detail about the bad day here, you can the events of it mentioned in some of my blog posts I will be posting throughout the week.

2. I still have not forgotten about the book I have been writing, About Last Night. I am still working on getting the preview done as there are still edits to be made, but I expect the preview to be out this month. Once I have finished and put my preview on Amazon, I will post it to my blog and my Facebook page, Lisa Speaks Out.

You can read the description for About Last Night here:

https://lisaspeaksout.wordpress.com/2017/09/07/about-last-night-release-date/

3. Finally, I do tend to be very open in my writing about issues some have deemed as “too personal”, the reason being that one of the purposes of my blog and my writing is to release these thoughts and emotions I have held in or been silenced from sharing all my life. As a writer, I understand that I will receive negative feedback here and there, it happens to even the greatest and most professional of writers. Anyone who wants to put their creativity out there has to deal with not-so constructive criticism from people who will leave reviews and comments that are cruel. Part of being so passionate about what you do is accepting that risk and developing thick skin. I am building up a tolerance against people like that for when I begin to start publishing my work as well as when I start putting my blog out there more. I always welcome constructive criticism and feedback, and usually that is what I get on my writing. However, I have been receiving comments from someone who has been leaving me paragraphs in response to my most recent blogs about the break-up I went through in November, “In The End” and “The One That Got Away” on both my blog page and my Facebook page. I have deleted the comments, but the comments went beyond criticism. I will not discuss the content of the comments, but they could easily be classified as harassment. The comments were lengthy ramblings by someone who was convinced that my blog posts were about them and insulting me. I am unsure if they were written by the person the blog was about or by someone who does not understand that someone can write about situations similar to what they have been through but not be talking about them. I know that there will always be critics out there and I cannot stop them from expressing themselves, but I do not tolerate harassment especially in a place that is supposed to be a safe space for me. I did not insult anyone in those two blogs, just expressed my emotions about the situation to help me release repressed emotions and explored my genuine thoughts about my ex and what had happened so I can continue the moving on process. As I said, just as he can speak about me, I have every right to do the same. Whether or not this was him, or someone I do not know, I will not point fingers but I will say that in spite of what happened I refuse to stop writing and stop putting my writing out there. I may need to disable comments for a while. I have also considered starting a new blog and removing my Facebook page for a while. Again, I welcome constructive criticism and it deeply disappoints me that I need may need to alter what I have been working on for three years if this keeps up. I just do not welcome any kind of harassment throughout my page and my blog. For the time being, however, I will continue to post my blogs on here and keep up with my Facebook page, Lisa Speaks Out. I thank those who have been follow my blog and page, and for those who continue to show support in any way possible whether it be through reading, liking and/or commenting. Your support is much appreciated.

In The End

How do you say goodbye to last year when a part of you still is holding onto the remains of what once was but no longer is?

How do you let go of yesterday when its memories are still imprinted in the back of your brain today?

Last week I had a dream where I saw you for the first time in two months. In my dream, you said the words I was dying to hear you say for weeks, “I am sorry, I want you back.” I was filled with pure ecstasy, until you disappeared. I did a double take, and yet the chair before me that you were just in moments ago was empty. I looked around, and it turned out that for my whole dream, I had been talking to myself. You were never there, but rather a figment of my imagination.

I promised to myself that I would never take you back after the pain you bestowed onto me. The pain you brought upon me the day that you chose to leave, lest we forget it was a few hours before my birthday party.

I was no saint to you, I admit that. I made my mistakes, I admit that. In fact, I wasted a month blaming me and only me. I only recalled how comforting your touch and kisses felt, how welcome I felt laying next to you every night, and how you were more caring and loving to me than anyone I have ever been with. I protected you from the cruel words of others before and after our break up. I believed you did the same for me.

Perhaps I had been asking for too much, or perhaps I was still looking at you through rose-colored glasses I looked at you. However, those glasses were shattered by your thorns.

They say that love makes you blind, well I guess I was blinded by how spiteful and deceitful you really are.

I had once betrayed your trust, and I was once a deceitful person myself. However, I changed all that for you because I believed you were worth it. I let go of my toxic habits so I could be the best person I could be for you. I could not erase my past mistakes, so instead I focused on fixing the present.

I had a past of being emotionally abused by other guys and suffer from serious abandonment issues, so letting you in and putting my trust in you was difficult. With each kiss, each moment of intimacy, each time you left a smile on my face, each time your touch would heal my internal wounds, each moment you protected me in your arms, and each time you made me feel special in a way that most people could not, you managed to find your way into my heart.

Before I knew it, I was so deep in love there was no way back up.

Once I was in too deep, I had became positive that you were the one. I was so positive, that I began to envision spending my life with you. I would dedicate all my time to you, go out my way to spoil you for your birthday and our anniversary, spend all my money on you, talk you up to everyone in my life, and do just about anything you asked of me. All I had ever expected in return was your smile. My god, your smile had truly warmed my heart and was the greatest reward of all.

What I had also gotten in return, was being exposed to that dark side that you have but won’t admit to. If you do, you will just say that I provoked it. That side of you that you kept buried within until the last few months of our relationship, had me feeling like I was walking around on eggshells because any little thing triggered it, would come out until you had successfully pushed me to tears, and got worse and worse as time passed. That side of you that would yell and scream at me in public, in front of my family and neighbors and even in front of your family. You would admit that you were wrong in doing so, yet your apologies were as empty as your promises to me because you still did it and decided that it was me that was making you so fed up, not the fact that you had serious underlying issues that you did not want to face.

You made sure to not show this side to your friends, so I can’t fully blame them for seeing you as a saint while deeming me as the issue. Some of your friends I was able to get along with, but many of them had decided that I was not good enough for their liking over the littlest of things, such as, “oh she doesn’t talk enough” or “oh she’s too emotional.” Did you ever notice how I never picked on them or talked down to them to their face as they did to me but instead tried to seek their approval because I knew how important it was to you for your friends and your girlfriend to get along, or were you paying attention at all when you stared at a wall pretending not to hear as they would disrespect me to my face? Did you ever really confront them about how they wasted their energy talking about me publicly on Facebook calling me toxic and saying I run away from the truth just because I blocked them because I was done with them poking their nose in and saying I scare people away while I was still grieving over the loss of our relationship? No, you did not. I wasted all my breaths defending you and telling everyone all the mistakes I made, hell I even made a blog the day after we broke up called “Broken” where I blamed myself for everything falling apart. I had implanted in my head that you were perfect and that I deserved what I did for betraying you in the past and because I had provoked your anger. Never mind that I had changed from my toxic behavior while you had not, that I had betrayed your trust once and never did it again out of fear of hurting you while you did not genuinely care to change your behavior despite seeing how it was affecting me, and that I did not yell or curse at you or insult you really but rather cried when you yelled at me and you still carried on. I let you make me feel small because I believed I deserved it for what I had done, because if I was angering someone like you then something had been wrong with me, and because I believed you were the best I was ever going to find.

I hoped I could change you. Silly Lisa, did you not learn in the past that you cannot change someone that is not willing to change. When it came to you, I just believed you were not changing because I was not enough for you. When our arguments became explosive and I finally screamed back at you just a few days before we broke up, I spent that night being terrified you would leave me because I yelled at you. You, however, had been screaming at me for months, taunting me with those words, “well why are you still here?” and telling me to leave in a condescending tone because you knew I would not, and had been doing little to defend me against your friends who found any reason not to like me and mock me to a point where I could hear them do it in the background on the phone one time. They did not know me, however, and you did, so you had the power to put a stop to it. You did not, since you let your friends make your decisions and you always put them first. Ever notice how when your friends insulted me, you did nothing, but when I pointed out your tendency to prioritize your friends over everyone else you would explode at me and back them up. One time, you even resorted to yelling “shut the fuck up” at me when I had been calmly explaining to you your tendency to put your friends first. I also recall them going off on you a number of times over nothing as they did to me, but you did not do anything more than constantly apologize to them.

They never have been exposed to how disgusting your behavior and attitude gets when you are angry, and maybe that is why you respect them so much. When I would say they judged me without trying to get to know me, you would retaliate that I did not know them well either. They clearly don’t know you well either, and you like it that way. You would rather keep up your reputation with them so they can stroke your ego and attack your “bratty” girlfriend or anyone that calls you out on your bullshit. So who is really the one that runs away from the truth?

I cannot deny that you did do a lot for me and change me for the better, I will always love you deep down and I will always hold onto the good memories of you and I, and I know that deep down the break up had cut a knife through your heart as well, but I refuse to allow myself to take the blame or keep quiet to protect you any longer. I always made excuses for your anger, for your immaturity, and for your lack of respect. I always claimed it was because of what you deal with in your personal life, because of my past mistakes, and because some of your friends manipulate you. Only after our breakup did I not only begin to open my eyes to how poorly you treated me at the end of the day, but also I was exposed to a side of you that you kept hidden from me.

I was defending someone who used my past he claimed to not judge me for against me by deciding that I had to be making up texts of one of his friends calling me names such as “slut”, “autistic”, and “white cunt” as opposed to accepting that one of his beloved friends were probably harassing me. I had screenshots and it was so bad that I had to change my number, but you did not care. Why did that surprise me though? I mean, you did dump me just before my birthday party while I had been planning yours five months ahead. You also took no time and hesitation to block me everywhere less than a week after we broke up. You seemed to have no issue cutting off contact with someone who had gotten close with, loved, and trusted you. You spent a year and a half of your life with me, yet it took you less than half a week to burn bridges. I would love to say it was difficult for you, except that was the last I ever heard from you. I had been trying to make sure you were okay, and you just cut me off then went on about your life without a wonder about me.

I also would have loved to believe that it had been for my own sake as you had sworn, but that too is hard to believe when you had made me a joke to your friends and publicly put on a Facebook post of yours how I am such an attention-seeker and how I exaggerate the impact of the trauma I have been through. For someone who is so hung up on his friends, you sure don’t keep tabs on the fact that one had told me what the fuck you were saying about me. I guess even with all the yelling and screaming you did to me, you still cowered away from telling me certain things you really felt about me by waiting until you blocked me to say all that.

You know all the shit I go through, and you know how guilty I feel about my past and how hard it was for me to come out with it, yet you still humiliate me by making me a joke and calling me a name on your Facebook when people know exactly who you are referring to. I may be putting this out there, but at least most people who read this won’t know who you are.

It’s still quite pathetic how I actually fear what you’ll think and whether or not this blog will hurt your feelings if you ever happen to stumble upon it. Still, I write this simply to start coming into terms with my own emotions, because I have been putting your feelings before my own for too long. Because the immense amount of pain I have felt should not be released just in the form of tears onto my pillow due to both me grieving the relationship and your cruel words, and because I refuse to be denied my right to express myself any longer.

You did love and care about me, at least in one point in time, but it does not negate all the hurt and the heartbreak you’ve cause me.

I had my flaws in the relationship, but it does not negate how I had loved you with every ounce of my being and did my best to ensure that I supported you and kept you happy. In your eyes, however, it was not enough to keep from dumping me at the worst time, calling me names afterward, and from lashing out at me in the worst way possible.

Last summer, I remember I took you to an event at a karaoke bar the support group I am in was having. We sang “In the End” by Linkin Park to close out the night before leaving. Whenever I hear that song now, I can’t help but find it a terrible coincidence how many of the lyrics, especially the chorus, “I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter” wound up being so fitting.

 

Inktober Day 10: Not a Compliment 

I really need a scanner 😦

This is one I was looking forward to for a while, mainly because I had never drawn animals before. Also because I wanted to give a message.


 

Day 10-1: The Cat (Female) from Anthromorphic People prompt

“Not a Compliment”: “I was ten years old when a guy first looked at me sexually. I was eleven when a guy on the internet who stalked an older friend of mine preyed on me because I was “cute”. I was fourteen when a Senior pulled me onto his lap at a high school dance. I was also fourteen when a guy stalked me home for the first time no matter how much I ignored him. I was sixteen when an guy grabbed my ass at a party and attempted to take advantage of the fact that I was drunk, and that same night the ‘friend’ I came with just laughed at this and left me to fend for myself. At seventeen I was called ugly and a bitch by guys online just because I wouldn’t send nudes. I was eighteen when a Professor that I trusted had become too friendly with me. I was also eighteen when a “boyfriend” I had at the time blamed a few guys making lewd comments toward me on the fact that I was wearing shorts. I was nineteen when someone another student in my college at the time had stalked me through Facebook and my classes and I was told that it wasn’t stalking if he wasn’t directly behind me. I was twenty when I was catcalled in the hallways at work and when I reported it, another girl who overheard said he only did it because “I’m pretty.” Earlier this year, I was harassed by a “friend” from high school and a guy on the train followed me and threatened to beat me up if I kept ignoring him and pulled out a pair of dirty panties from his bag. I am twenty-one going on twenty-two and I still face these harassments on the street, the “hey sexy”s and the lewd comments about me as if I am a piece of meat. It is not a boost to my self-esteem, and it is not a compliment. I am a human, not a cat, so don’t make kissy noises at me.”

For more, follow my art instagram, lisawolfs_artgram 🙂 

About Last Night preview coming Soon! 

My Thoughts Day 1: My Anxiety is Slowly Killing Me

What is anxiety?

Anxiety is not just simply the feeling of being anxious, nor is it just the feeling you get when you have a math test later on, or when you are about to speak in front of a group of people. Anxiety is a mental illness, much like depression. It is a disorder in which you excessively feel uneasy and worry over current and future events. When you have anxiety disorder, your typical response to most conflicts is to overthink obsessively and worry yourself sick. When everything becomes overwhelming, it can result in a panic attack, or in some cases something close to a panic attack. What makes anxiety disorder distinctive from that feeling of being anxious is both the response to it, and the fact that when you have anxiety disorder you obsess over whatever you are worried about, whether it is a big conflict or something trivial.

Another difference? You cannot control anxiety disorder. No matter how much you want to, or how much you try to control your thoughts, you just can’t. It’s like telling someone with bipolar disorder to control their mood swings, or telling someone with ADHD to learn to control themselves; it’s just not possible.

Some people do, however, disagree with this. They will say that anxiety is not a disorder, but rather people upsetting themselves over little things. Everyone has problems, but are able to get over it. People who claim to have anxiety disorder are just people crying for attention because they don’t know how to handle their problems.

I have an example from the past of dealing with people with this ignorant mindset:

Early August 2015. Warm summer day. Canal Street, NYC

I am with my ex-boyfriend and his mom, giving their friends a tour of Manhattan. We have been walking around with no break all day. We went from walking the Coney Island boardwalk, to the Staten Island Ferry and back, to walking from South Ferry to Tribeca. They were hoping to walk Chinatown and Times Square next, but my feet were tired and I had work the next day. They were walking in an extremely fast pace as well so that did not help my aching feet. The sun was also ready to set, and I hated travelling on the subway alone at night. One would think that after keeping me out on my feet all day, my ex would have had the decency to take me home or make sure I get home safe in some way. Oh no, he was going to send me off alone because, despite making me go around Brooklyn and Manhattan with his friends, he decided he couldn’t part ways with them for just a little bit just so that he could ensure I made it home okay. Not to mention that he thought all that travelling and walking we did was not too much, and his mother seemed to agree with this poor treatment toward me.
So here is what I thought:
Wow, my safety is not important to him or his mother.
Are you fucking kidding me?
How do they not see that they are wrong?
I feel like I walked all over New York City. All five boroughs.
He really doesn’t care about me, does he?
He seems more invested in his friends despite me taking time out my day to travel around all day, and visit tourist spots of a city I have lived in all my life with people I don’t even know. While we were on the ferry and at the 9/11 memorial he barely even paid me any mind. What I am doing for him doesn’t mean anything, huh?

These thoughts didn’t just cross my mind just once, nor did they leave when I tried to argue with him and he just wasn’t getting it throughout the day. Neither was his mother. In fact, she was encouraging his behavior toward me on letting me leave alone. I felt so overwhelmed, and all those horrendous thoughts I listed above kept replaying in my head like a broken record. My heartbeat kept increasing rapidly, and I felt like the sun was suddenly beating directly on me. I tried, however, to ignore it.
Then we went from Chambers to Canal street to get to Chinatown. On the way there is where it happened. Where I argued heavily with his mother as my heart felt like it was going to rip out my chest from beating too hard and where I felt like I was drowning in sweat. Still eager to prove my point, I kept on going until he lost his patience with me and threw something then walked away.
Then, the flashbacks played in my head. The flashbacks of growing up witnessing my father do the very same thing when he lost his temper quickly. Him lashing out on my family and I so easily, along with his habit of throwing and breaking things when he lost control, caused me to become frightened whenever someone lashes out on me or starts throwing things around out of anger.
That is exactly what happened. Except I did not just cower away from the scene in fear. I began shaking and tears began falling down my face. He had stormed away, but his mom noticed, and questioned why I was crying. My mind had eventually blanked out, and I only remember the following events in bits and pieces. I remember leanung against a rough brick wall because I could not even figure how to stand up anymore. I remember sobbing so loud I felt everyone around me was staring at me. I remember feeling like I was having a heart attack because the pounding of my heartbeat was so hard it was causing me immense pain. I rememeber it suddenly felt like breathing was too difficult to do and each inhale and exhale became stronger and stronger. There was sweat dripping from my forehead and palms, and the temperature felt like it increased to two hundred degrees. I recall the images of my ex in front of me with his mom and all my other surroundings flipping on and off as I attemped to pay attention to my surroundings like that bullshit Facebook post advises to do to ease out of a panic attack. I remember trying to push out words, but my heavy breathing made it impossible to talk. As I slowly began to come back to my own self, I had to resist the urge to both punch my ex in the face, and to jump in front of traffic in the nearby street.

Saying that I wanted to punch him may sound cruel, but my anxious mindset had automatically turned to inflicting violence on anyone who got even the least bit loud with me. I did not punch him, as I slowly began to regain control again, but who could blame me when he was urging me to answer him, and getting visibly angry with me that I did not when he saw how I was gasping for air?

Even if this was over a year ago, I do recall him saying these words:

“What do you have to be so anxious about? You need to chill.”

I also recall his mom saying this:

“You are too young to be getting upset like that.”

While it upset me, I should not have even been surprised. I kept wondering why someone so close to me that I have been there for could even think something so ignorant and have the nerve to speak so negatively against me for having this right in front of my face. I also wonder why someone who is a grown adult and a mother could honestly believe young people can’t have problems or be allowed to get upset over things. Then I remember that some people are just so closed-minded that they do not understand, or make an attempt to understand, something that does not affect them. It is like when someone tells another person with clinic depression to just get over it and go out more; some people have ignorant beliefs about certain things they don’t know personally about.

When it comes to people who are ignorant about mental illnesses, I keep them at a distance. If they cannot shut up about their ignorant beliefs, I drop them like a boom. As I wrote in a previous post, “Special Snowflakes Versus the World,” everyone is entitled to their own opinion. As long as you do not shove that opinion down my throat, I will respect you whether or not I agree with it. I have had many friends who are closed-minded about my mental illnesses, and while their views on it irk me, I leave them alone about it as long as they do not judge me about it. I also have vowed to myself never to date someone who says nasty things in response to my anxiety again, and is anything but helpful when I imevitably have a panic attack.

I have a lot of supportive friends and a boyfriend who is understanding of anxiety and very patient when it comes to panic attacks. They subsided over the past year, as I started seeing a therapist shortly after that incident with my ex, and I started back on medication last October. The worst panic attacks I had were when I underwent a lot of stress during my last semester of college, and when I was in my uncles car back in February to say goodbye to my grandma when it was time for her to be buried. While I had my medication and methods of coping with anxiety, such as writing and painting, it was still hard sometimes to ignore anxiety. Anxiety may be incurable, and you just have to learn to live with it, but lately it has gotten worse. My last dose of medication is gone, life finds a way to slap me in the face with a load of crap at one time, and my depression has found a way to kick me in the ass in such a way that my interest in anything I was passionate about to help calm my anxiety is gone. The fact that I have been able to keep my attention on this post for so long in one day amazes me.

What is it that I am so anxious about, as my ex had once so delightfully asked? Well, to close this post, I present to you an anxious thought train of mine. This final piece of my post derives from a time where my anxiety takes over, which can either happen due to a certain event, someone seriously upsetting me, or just when I am alone at night trying to sleep and the thoughts find their way in. The following thought train is an example of the last one.

A thought train:

*I am a disgrace. I don’t deserve to be happy, why do I ever think I will be? I want to apply to NYU, but what makes me think I will ever get in? If I don’t then I am a letdown to my family who wants me to better myself for the future but I just can’t do it. I have a great scholarship oppritunity to help get me into NYU but I can’t seem to get anyone to help me with recommendations and the application deadline is Tuesday. Crazy how I always help people and they never help me. But maybe that is the reason why. Maybe I don’t deserve any help. When you help people it should be selfless, and yet here I am expecting people to drop what they are doing to write something for me about how great I am. I am not gonna finish thay application in time. Maybe I did not know about that damn scholarship until yesterday, but maybe I would have if my lazy ass had started looking for scholarships sooner. I am a disappointment to my mom, my sister, and everyone I care about.

I turn 21 in eleven days. 21 and all I have is an Associates’ degree and no clue with what I want to do with myself. My phone battery is at thirty six percent. I want to continue with this post and post it today. I know I said that the purpose of this was to prove the significance of freewriting but I want it to be perfectly written. Who am I kidding though? I am not the best writer, no matter how hard I try. I know I am good, but there are so many good writers out there, so what makes me think that I am so special? I am mediocre compared to most, so I probably won’t make it out there. I don’t want to be famous, but I do want my writing to speak out to some. But how can it when all I do is write rants and personal experiences on this blog once in a blue? I am 20 years old with no plan, no future, and no idea of how I’m gonna pursue what I want to do. My life is a mess. Should I even say more?

Ah yes. I need glasses. I can barely see what I am typing because my reading glasses got crushed in my bag. But I can’t afford new ones. I can, but then I have no money saved. Money seems to be one thing I am anxious about. It shouldn’t be, but it is because I need stuff and because I am one of the worst savers in history. I need so many things. I want to save money for my birthday too…oh what does it matter? No one else seems to care much for it. People want to make requests on what I should do but no one cares to try and help out but me, my boyfriend, and my mom. My sister would probably help if she could. That is beside the point though. The last time anyone even did anything for me was my close friends taking me to a buffet years ago, and a friend of mine that took me out to a chocolate resturant two years ago. Oh wow, look at how ungrateful I am. I complain so much but now that I think about it people do care about my birthday. My best friend came with my family to a resturant last year and got me a giant teddy bear. Here I have the nerve to complain no one cares or tries. Its no wonder I feel selfish; I am very selfish. I do help people, some of which don’t help back, but I have close friends who care. I have a mom thay cares, a sister that cares, a boyfriend that cares, friends that care. I should be happy with that, but Im not. All I ever do is complain to people and then get angry at them for the littlest things, just like my exes said. I would not be surprised if one day, everyone I know and love just left me because I am pathetic in every sense and complain about everything. I know it annoys me, which is why sometimes I want to do whatever I can to make it all go away. No, those kind of thoughts are selfish too. You see Lisa, you are so annoying and selfish. So selfish. Just shut the fuck up already.*

Most of those thoughts may seem ridiculous, and I am sure anyone who cares about me that will read this will want to slap me for thinking such insolence, but that is anxiety and what it does to the brain. It is like my normal self leaves my body and is replaced by some overly obsessive worrier that repeats the same negativity over and over and lists everything wrong with my life, even if nothing is wrong, and causes me to see nothing but negative outcomes in everything. That whole thought train was my anxiety speaking, and what I deal with on a daily basis. I wish it would go away, but it wins every battle and takes over my head too often. It keeps me up at night, it causes me to need reassurance from others constantly that everything is okay and they don’t hate me, and it causes me to have those panic attacks that seem to go on forever when I am too overwhelmed by everything.

Now tell me anxiety disorder is made up and can be easily controlled.

 

 

My Thoughts…(Announcement)

One issue I have noticed when it comes to writers, is that we focus so much in creating something perfect. While editing and revising is indeed necessary, sometimes even in the writing process, so much attention is focused on being perfect that the final product does not come out as great as it could have been. When I write creatively, I do outline, but I also release my thoughts freely and worry about editing and cutting things out or adding things in later. I find that the best thoughts and stories come out when you stop being so anxious about what you are writing from your mind freely and not worrying about perfection every moment you write.
That being said, I will be working on a mini series called “My Thoughts” where I share experiences to prove a point, and to further prove the point I will add a section that is unedited and unrevised, as it just directly will come from my mind. This shall make more sense when the series is released, and it will be released tomorrow, 10/21, through Thursday, 10/27. My first post deals with anxiety, my experiences with having it, and a look into what a thought train is like for someone with an anxiety
For those interested, please look out for a link to the first post on WordPress tomorrow which I will post tomorrow, and to follow the rest of my series and my other blog posts, like my Facebook page, Lisa Speaks Out
For the time being, you can check out my latest post ranting about Donald Trump.

“Grab Her By the Pussy”

Everyone is aware of the horrendous candidate we have running as president, Donald Trump. I am not much into politics, which is why I avoid writing about it at all costs, but it doesn’t take a political genius to know that this election is fucked. As I always say, you know the future of this country is doomed when Hilary Clinton is our best option.

Even if you do not have (or care to have) an understanding of politics like me,  you very well are aware of some of the disgusting things Donald Trump has said. From making fun of a handicapped person, to saying he would want to date his own daughter, it’s a wonder how this man is still even a candidate that people actually want to vote for. I guess it says a lot about how fucked humanity is.

This post is to address something Donald Trump recently did. Something that proves he is a sexist, disrespectful, remorseless piece of shit. As if we did not know this already.

Unless you have been living under a rock, you have probably heard of Donald Trump’s recent audio released in which he was bragging to Billy Bush about a time he attempted to make a move on a married woman despite it being against her wishes. Donald Trump dismissed this conversation as “locker room banter.” Donald Trump swears he has respect for women, and that this conversation took place a long time ago. Let’s take a look at this “locker room banter,” shall we?

“I said I’ll take you out furniture shopping. I took her out furniture.  I moved on her like a bitch, but I couldn’t get there, and she was married.”

“Then all of a sudden I see her now, she’s got the big phony tits and everything. She’s totally changed her look.” 

“I better use some tic tacs just in case I start kissing her. You know I am automatically attracted to beautiful-I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab her by the pussy….

Jesus Christ. Just a reminder, this man is running for president. The election is next month. With that being said, let me dissect this into a few points:

*Donald Trump was already with his current wife, Melania Trump, when he said all this. When meeting with the soap opera star he and Bush saw when they got off their bus, Trump hugged the star, who was an attractive young woman, and said that Melania was okay with this. Now the hug was a harmless act, as men hug women all the time. Yet speaking of women in such a manner when he is a married man, and talking of wanting to kiss any beautiful woman he sees, is disgusting. There is a fine line between looking and controlling yourself, and looking and wanting to act upon it when you know you are taken.

*Based on Trump’s choice of words, “moved on her like a bitch,” he is implying that he did not come onto her simply by asking her out or showing attraction to her. Oh no, he moved on her like a bitch. With the words, “Like a bitch” one can assume thay Trump had made a move on her intensely. If anyone, and I mean anyone, ever shows a lack of interest to your advances, you leave them alone. You don’t kiss someone unless you have their permission to do so. You do not start to unbutton someone’s clothes or stick your hand down their pants unless you have the permission to do so. You do not have the right to perform any kind of sexual act on someone unless you have the permission to do so. If someone does not give consent when they are in a sober mindset, leave them alone. You should not persist when they have already made up their mind. Who the fuck are you to decided someone is entitled to say yes to you? Pressuring someone when they have already made up their mind is equivalent to a child constantly whining, “I want it!” when their parents said no, hoping a tantrum will change their parent’s mind. Then again, Donald Trump is famous for his child-like tantrums.

*Women. Are. Not. Objects. They have feelings and wants. If that want is not kissing you, then you should respect it. You should not go and kiss someone just because it is what YOU want, and just because YOU think they are attractive. So many men pass attractive women every day that they might want to kiss, but they don’t because you CAN help yourself if you have the right amount of self-control. Not to mention the fact that he said he doesn’t even wait. It’s like a man sees a woman at a party who he thinks is entitled to her, and he doesn’t even get to know her or allow her to determine whether or not she is attracted first. He just kisses her, whether she likes it or not. You know who else uses this kind of logic, rapists. Even if he said kiss, a kiss is still a form of intimacy that you cannot share with someone who does not want it without forcing them or making them feel uncomfortable.

*The defense that this was “locker room talk” is equivalent to those who justify catcalling by claiming that they were “just being friendly.” Imagine if you were married, and some entitled fucktard with a funny-looking wig attempted to make a move on your woman knowing full well that they are married to you. He talked about her tits and gloated about how he moved on her like a bitch even after she not only noted that she was married, but also that she is not interested. There is a difference between talkng with your guys with towels wrapped around your waste as you prepare for your next game about some chick you banged (with consent) that had huge hoo-has,  and bragging about how you flopped yourself on top of that big-breasted girl by force.

*It doesn’t matter how long ago he said it. Donald Trump has proved on more occasions than one that he is a sexist, arrogant pig. There is no doubt he still has this mindset. Remember, this is a man who talks about sleeping with his daughter and belittles Hilary Clinton. Don’t even say that, “well he did apologize.” Apologies don’t fix what you did, actions do. If Trump was not a sexist piece of shit then maybe this audio could be forgiven (of course since what Trump says is similar to that of a rapist, him being forgiven is questionable) but he has not changed. He is not sorry he said what he said; rather that he got caught.

 

*Sure, no one is perfect, but this is a man running for president. The democracy we are promised and the freedom of this country is bullshit, but as a leader of this country, should we really have someone who makes comments that are equivalent of that of a rapist as I have analyzed? Let alone the fact that his constant tantrums prove that he should not be trusted with access to all the nuclear weapons we have. Lord knows another World War III will erupt the moment Donald Trump even steps in that office, and God forbid he does ever get elected to that office. Not to mention that he does say, “when you are a star, you can do anything.” So since he thinks that women are dumb enough to fall for any guy just because he is famous, imagine what he would think of attractive women who he can’t control himself around as president. If he slaps the ass of a young hot thing while in office, and unlike Monica Lewinsky, she is not interested in using an affair with the president to pretend that she is relevant, then he will likely use the excuse that he is the leader of this country. Never mind what she wants; that dumb bitch better bow down to the needs of the star of this country!

I am just about done attempting to talk politics, but I will say that it is a wonder why one would vote for Donald Trump on November 8th. This stunt just further proves he is the sexist, arrogant, bastard we all know and hate. Still, if Trump really wants to win, there is one effective method he could do to win these elections aside from winning the likes of hillbillies down south who fuck their cousins; he could grab them by the pussy!

 

 

Special Snowflakes versus the World

 

Freedom of Speech? Yeah right.

How could you preach freedom of speech when special snowflakes are triggered by every little thing they see nowadays?

What are special snowflakes? They are whiny, attention-seeking little tumblr crybabies that get offended when someone does so much as assume their gender accidentally or mention a topic they are sensitive about in a non-hurtful way.

An example? Last Saturday I posted a status about gender. I said that there are only two genders biologically, male and female. You can only have a penis or a vagina. This is true, as science can prove so with chromosomes.

Before anyone gets triggered, let me explain myself. This is something the special snowflakes who attacked me did not allow me to do. This status derived from an article I read that listed all the “genders” that currently exist on Tumblr. This included THREE HUNDRED different genders. Three hundred. Last I checked, gender is based on what genitalia you have, and if you could only have two types of genitalia, then why are there three hundred different kinds of genders?

I skimmed through the list, but I did not make it through the whole thing. I feared if I did, my IQ would drop. People identify themselves as dog-gendered, cat-gendered, decimal-gendered, and so forth. There are also genders that change depending on your mood, depending on your depression (or the self-diagnosed depression these attention-seeking special snowflakes swear they have) or depending on your period. Any sane human being knows this is ridiculous. If you want to identify as a dog, then by all means do so. Granted, people may look at you funny if you walk around on four legs and lick people, but it’s your life isn’t it? I never knocked anyone for their decision to identify as whatever otherkin they wanted; rather I was stating a FACT that dogs, cats, aliens, whateverelsespecialsnowflakescomeupwith, is NOT a gender. Scientifically, you are either male or female. Even with transgenders, they identify themselves as the male or female. Hermaphodites are both male and female, or either one if they prefer being referred to as one. There is no third gender.

That was the point I was trying to make. If those special snowflakes that commented on my status took a second to understand or ask me what I meant, I would have happily explained. Instead, they did what any social justice warrior (SJW) would do; they jumped to conclusions and got triggered. They got defensive and aggressive, which ironically enough they will cry about if you even do so much as show a bit of aggression toward them. Surely enough, the minute I retaliated, they got defensive.

I was supposed to show them sensitivity. Even though they called me closed-minded, insensitive, and immature, I was wrong for making a status on MY facebook with MY name on it that was clearly not ill-intended or harmful in any way. It would be one thing if I had threatened to murder people, or if I had called them insane and thirsty for attention, but I did not. The status did not insult anyone, and the meaning behind it was what I explained above.

What do I know though? I am just a Cisgendered, priveleged, -mostly- white, straight young woman. That is the logic of these tumblrinas, they can judge you, but you can’t judge or offend them.

Just like how believing there are only two genders makes me “closed-minded.” Never mind that I am not the least bit racist, homophobic, or transphobic. I treat everyone equally and believe no one should be treated differently because of their race, sexual preference, religious beliefs, and so forth. I do not even oppose of transgenders. I believe if a woman believes she is be a man, or a man believes he is a woman, then they can go and be whatever they desire. The point I was arguing was that once you believe you are an animal, that what you are changes with your mood, or that you are a freaking math symbol, you are NOT referring to your gender. Biologically, that it is impossible because anything concerning gender, is male or female. I cannot stress that enough.

If you still don’t believe me, then that is fine. Just as I have the freedom to post about this on MY blog and on MY facebook, you have the freedom to believe what you want to. Just don’t insult people in the process the minute they don’t agree with you. Not everyone will be as nice as I was, not everyone will express their opinion in a way that is not harmful to anyone other than crybabies who come on the internet expecting everyone to care if their feelings are hurt, and not everyone in life will guise their opinion in fear of hurting someone.

I do agree some people take it too far, but there is nothing “dangerous” about posting to a public site about gender just because you don’t agree with it. The only “dangerous” issue in this case is people expecting to make it in the real world with that mindset that everyone will be respectful of your feelings, and that everyone who does not agree with is “closed-minded.” I am sensitive, not as sensitive as these special snowflakes, but I have learned the hard way with how sensitive I am that not everyone cares about your feelings and will be harsh to you just for the hell of it.

To anyone who reacted to my post in a rude way, to anyone who responds to any opinion in a negative way, and to anyone who expects people to care whether or not they are triggered, grow the hell up. Just like you have the freedom to pretend you are alien-gendered and feel raped because a man accidentally touched your hand while handing you your order at Starbucks, people have the freedom to disagree with you in a respectful way and to publicly speak of whatever they want. If this offends you, go cry to your Tumblr blog about it because truthfully, that is your only safe space. No one else gives a shit if you are offended or not. Welcome to reality.

The Struggles of Social Anxiety

I’m the girl that sits in the corner, invisible to everyone around her. I am that girl that stands out in the crowd when all I want to do is fit in. I am that girl that no one approaches because I unwillingly set off an unfriendly demeanor. I am that girl that has plenty of stories to tell, yet I hardly can create conversations when speaking to people. I am that girl who feels a mixture of emotion yet conceals it because it’s easier. I am that girl who failed to just talk to the guy I like because I let my fears of confrontation get the better of me. I am that girl that most people tire of quickly. I am that girl who is always alone even in a group of people. I am that girl. Though I wish not to be, I am. 

I am not that girl who can go up to anyone and engage in conversation. I am not that girl who steals everyone’s attention with her smile. I am not that girl who has self-confidence. I am not that girl who defends herself. I am not that girl who lives for social interaction. I am not that girl contributes tons of ideas when in groups. I am not that girl that can catch mostly everyone’s interest. I am not that girl that you can depend on for icebreakers when there is awkward silence. I am not that girl that speaks with emotion in her voice unless I have reached that level of comfort with you. I am not that girl that many people talk to out of choice as opposed to force. 

I am not that girl. I want to be but I am not. 

I am not antisocial by choice. I have always desired to be as outgoing and bubbly as everyone else. Yet no matter how hard I try, I can’t fight these issues I have with being social.  I at one point accepted that I will never be as talkative as everyone else and that I, deep down, don’t have the desire to be. Yet that all changes whenever I am faced with social situations. Even worse when I am laughed at about it or when people pick at me for not speaking enough. 

I am one of kind, but not in the way I want to be.