memories

Let me just start by saying no one has accused me of sucking up or anything like that at all.

That’s not what this post is about.

I’m tired of good, amazing things that go unsaid because it may seem like sucking up, or being fake, or whatever.

A lot of really important things get swept under the rug because generally people just don’t say “hey, I think you’re really compassionate, and empathetic.”

I’ve been trying to.

Those good, pure things that give me hope in humanity that I witness in my friends, my family, my coworkers, strangers, anyone I cross paths with… I think it’s really important for them to know that those things about them that they think are hidden in shadow, 100% deserves to be brought to the light.

It doesn’t go unnoticed. I see it; I’m sure many others do, too.

I don’t even have the right words to express the gratitude of meeting some really amazing and compassionate people.

I think if more people knew how much those things about them are so… needed. I don’t know how else to put that. God, do we need more people that have good intentions, and a passion to help others so much that sometimes it feels like you’re pouring from an empty cup… a thousand times over.

Like… that’s amazing.

Especially just doing your best every single day and having the best intentions at heart.

And it would break my heart to know how many people that read this celebrate being able to make it to their car before breaking down, or just sitting there feeling so… drained before breathing in the courage to go home and try to shake it off at the door.

I heard somewhere:

Work ever kicked your a$s so bad, you drive home in silence?

Yeah, I’ve felt that.

I make playlists to hype myself up for the day. It’s the most ridiculous stuff too – songs that make me laugh.

Sometimes, by the end of the day, that hype meter has depleted completely and we on E. We feel it too.

Man, do we feel it.

Yet day after day you show up, and you do it again and again because you are good.

That’s STRENGTH. I respect it so much.

And you/they deserve to be told as such. ❤️

I hope that anyone reading this can find ways to fill their cup not day by day with Disney karaoke on the drive to work, but by taking care of themselves. I’m trying very hard to practice this as well. It’s easier said than done.

I try to set boundaries for myself and my mental health. I try to be as honest with myself as possible so that I don’t empty my cup again. I think you know how badly that sucks.

Sometimes when there’s a lot of different noises happening around me at once, I just say “too many noises; I’m getting overwhelmed” AND I LEAVE. I am absolutely not ABOVE taking a bathroom break to get some space.

I’ve learned that about myself. I wouldn’t tell anyone because it felt really awkward and I felt like I would be judged for getting overwhelmed by too much stimuli.

I have also learned that somebody judging me is 1. Not someone that has my best intentions at heart and 2. Not nearly as important as my mental health.

I know I’m rambling.

I just want to say that I have met and encountered so many amazing people, and I’m going to keep letting y’all know about it.

And please, please, please take care of yourselves. I could use the reminder more than I’d like to admit.

I remember the moment in my life, where I made the CONSCIOUS decision to become a “bad” kid, very distinctly.

It was in kindergarten. My class had some sort of reward….system? I don’t know. It was a f*ckn 3 row chart on the chalkboard. I don’t really remember the details except that one column was good behavior, one column was “yellow” or could-use-some-work behavior, and “red” – BAD behavior.

I never did anything wrong. I was quiet and AT LEAST indifferent, if not nice. (I say it like that because I can never really imagine a time when I was… “nice” or “sweet” – perhaps before I could talk?)

I remember sitting there, in the dim classroom (nap time?), staring at that chart on the board. And I looked at the names on the bad-behavior side, and I thought to myself, “Self, those kids are getting tons of attention for acting out…”

Followed by, “I don’t get any attention for my good behavior. I follow all the rules, and for what?”

AND SO,

A MONSTER WAS BORN.

My first act of rebellion: I was walking down the hall (single file, like the sweet, cherubic angel that I am), and as we passed a fourth grade teacher (fairly certain she still hates me), I stuck my tongue out at her.

That was the first time I lost my recess.