Why It's OK to NOT Be OK.

First off, let me just say I am

so.

frustratedly.

uninspired.


I have five drafts saved on my laptop of halfway finished posts. I have another two post ideas which are just titles. Lately I just haven't really had the mindset to share my thoughts and words online. Mostly because my brain has been all over the place. Which, admittedly,  results in some of my best writing. However, my best writing isn't always something I want to share with people.

Today though is one of those days where you wake up and just know the entire day is going to be crap. Given, I'm not the most optimistic person even on the best of days, but I knew the second my alarm went off today was just gonna be one of Those Days. Naturally, it's been one of those days because I believed that it would be. Maybe if I woke up every morning and thought "I'm gonna kick today's ass no matter what!" I wouldn't have these days. However, nobody is perfect. People have bad days.

Which is why I'm here, as someone who has Those Days at least three times a week, to tell you that there is absolutely nothing wrong in admitting you are not OK.

There is nothing wrong with telling yourself, or the people around you, you are having a bad day. Or a bad life. Or admitting we do not meet the requirements that society has coined as perfection.

Last time I checked, nobody is perfect. Celebrities have (verrrryyy public) mental breakdowns because society plasters their "Perfect life" all over the place. That's quite the pedestal to be put on, if you think about it. Imagine having every time you step out of the house, or text someone, post an Instagram, ending in countless magazines, television screens and radio talk shows. Celebrities can have the money, I'll take my everyday life privacy.

As a result of the media constantly selling Perfection, we as normal, everyday beings, begin to think that having a handful of flaws is suddenly a bad thing. Let me repeat:

IT IS NOT A BAD THING TO BE IMPERFECT. ACTUALLY, IT'S FUCKING NORMAL.

There are people in the world out there who are going to think that the sun shines out of their ass, and that's OK. Because you will ignore those people. They are the people who are the reason the media is still around, tearing down celebrities for every last little thing they do in life. The people out there who think they are Perfect usually have the car, the money, the friends, the "Life", but at the end of the night they are not truly happy.

Which do you chose: Perfection, or Happiness?

Let's play a game, quick.

Think back to the last time you felt like not getting out of bed because the World just didn't seem worth it. You knew that you were stuck in a rut. You began to realize the people around you were not changing. You had the same routine day in, and day out. You felt like you were in a losing battle with yourself. You felt as thought you aren't good enough. You aren't where you want to be in your career, or you definitely aren't anywhere near where you thought you'd be at this age as a child. Think of all the things you planned to do in 2014 as a Bucket List, but never completed.

Take a second to think about the last time you just hid under your covers and cried all day to let go of all the negative energy. Think about the last time you saw a Facebook status that hit you in the gut, or a photo on Instagram that made you feel less about yourself. Think about the drive to work when you wonder "Will my job ever get better?" or "Will I ever not have to drag myself out the door to leave for work?" Think about all the times you have laid in your bed feeling sorry for yourself.

Now take a second to try to remember the last time you admitted that to someone, besides a significant other, or a family member, or a close friend.

Exactly.

You probably didn't tell anybody besides the two or three people in your life that you trust not to judge you. The people who wouldn't use your imperfections against you. You hid your breakdown from the world because then you would be admitting you aren't perfect.

Ready for the next part of the game?
It's secret telling time.

I had a breakdown today, at about 1:15 in the afternoon. I cried. I thought about how shitty my life can be. I thought about every bad thing that has happened to me in the past year, the bad things that will continue to happen to me. I felt sorry for myself. I let all the horrible things I have been said about me, whether online, or to my face, even years ago, take over my mind. I let myself feel like the worst waste of skin and bones this world has ever created. I cried so much I felt sick.

Are you still reading? Or have you run away from the Imperfections I admitted to you?

Now let's go to part three of the game.
It's time to admit you've probably felt like I did today at least once this year.
You probably had a day where all you did was feel horrible. And cry. And think there was nobody else worse in the world than you.

(And if you haven't felt like that: See that X box in the upper right hand corner of my blog? Please leave, because you are one of those people who thinks the sun shines out of their ass, and you're probably the reason people feel like shit sometimes.)

It's normal to have these days. In fact, I truly believe they are healthy.

After I let all the tears free of my body, let heart rate slow back to normal, I thought to myself "OK. Just breathe. It will be alright. It's OK to feel like this. It's OK to have emotions. It's OK to NOT be OK".

I rolled over, grabbed my laptop, and started writing this post. Instead of feeling bad for myself the rest of the day I thought that maybe this one time posting something I wrote in the middle of an emotionally exhausting day would help someone. No filters, not embarrassment. Just me, my laptop, my feelings, my words. And you.

I truly don't understand why people don't talk about things when it comes to our mental stability. It's almost like it's taboo to admit that we may not all have perfectly functioning brains. Why when we hear words like "Bipolar" or "Anxiety" we instantly think of horrible people with horrible intentions; most people think of someone locked up in a mental hospital in a straight jacket.

Trust me, it is far from that. Most people who struggle everyday you probably would never had guessed that getting out of bed is hard for them every single day. On the flip side, people who struggle with mental disorders aren't walking around with a neon sign on their forehead saying that life is sometimes fucking hard.

Nobody is, really. Because we are supposed to be perfect.

I guess the whole point of this post to make people realize that none of us are perfect. We all have flaws. We may not have to talk about them so openly (I'll admit that I have plentyyyy of flaws that I'm not yet ready to divulge into on the blog. Maybe someday) but we need to recognize and respect that idea. Instead of taking advantage of each other's imperfections, why can't we celebrate them?

Please, please remember that it's OK to not be OK. 

We all have those days where we feel like the world is shutting every door in our faces, but that only means another door will open soon. We all have felt as though everything you have done in life means absolutely nothing as we watch our lives crumble. That just means you need to dig yourself out of the rubble and rebuild.

You can rebuild. I have before, and I will do it again.

Today I feel as though my world is burying me alive but I know that once I find my tools to dig myself out of this slump, I will emerge feeling as though I could conquer the whole entire Universe. Today just sin't that day, and that is OK. I got a tattoo in January that reads "Unbreakable" with the symbol for Female above it. And days where I feel so awful, I just think about that tattoo, and why I got it, and remember that the world can't break me.

And if you ever want to talk, about anything, message me. Comment on this post. Reach out, ask for help. I know that's not easy because I rarely, if ever, ask for help. But I promise, reaching out is one of the best things you can do. I may not have expert advice, but sometimes you don't need the advice, you just need someone to listen.

You are far from perfect, but that's the best thing about you.

We Are All In Love With A Bunch of Motorcycle Murderers.

Here we are. The dreaded December 9th, 2014.

Tonight, almost everybody on my Facebook feed is saying goodbye to Jax Teller and his band of absurdly good looking, misfit motorcycle gang friends.

Whether you watched Sons of Anarchy for the beautiful Jax Man Butt, seemingly endless porn stars (Which means seemingly endless porn scenes), or maybe just the story-lines, tonight is just downright depressing. But why!? SOA is just a show. Right?

Admittedly, I only just starting watching Sons at the tail end of Season 4 when my Dad came home with all the previous seasons in a box set and began binge watching the show. I mean, his binge watching of Sons put my binge watching of Grey's Anatomy over winter break one year to shame. He watched all four seasons in maybe like, two or three weeks. Maybe that's where I get the talent of watching an entire series in a months time...

Anyways.

Most of us watch TV because they are relatable, a way to sob out the stress of the week, or even to slip away from reality for an hour or two. With shows that I adore, like Parenthood, I watch because they are so relatable. I can watch that damn show all day and just cry through every episode. And not just "Oh, so sad. Let's shed a tear or two!" Parenthood is a show of uncontrollable, need-a-whole-box-of-tissues, ugly sobbing. Or let's talk about my other obsessive TV show, Grey's Anatomy. Now, that show is relatable in the sense of the feelings the Doctors have, reactions to life, relationship woes. I don't know too many people who have survived a hospital ward being blown up, followed by a shooting, then a bunch of (the same) doctors getting into a plane crash. And don't even get me started on all the emotional trauma that Shonda Rhimes has put us through.

Then there is Sons of Anarchy.
Now. I DEFINITELY don't know anyone in a crazy Motorcycle Gang (or at least anyone who admits to this fact). But again, Kurt Sutter has put us through some of the MOST traumatizing bullshit I have ever dealt with watching a television show. The death of a wife (and also a gruesome death of one of the Son's CHILDREN), rape and domestic violence, the death of main characters... I could sit here and write out hundreds of "HOOOOLY SHIT" moments over the years. Seriously, the guy has no mercy on his viewers. And that is why seven long, heartbreaking (albeit incredible) seasons later we are all anxiously awaiting to put ourselves through torture one more time.

And every single one of us is so, so unprepared.

There has been speculation of how this show will wrap up since the beginning. Kurt Sutter told us that this entire show is loosely based off Shakespeare's Hamlet. However, what does that mean!? If you Google "Sons of Anarchy and Hamlet" there are tons and tons and tons of forums with comparisons between the two. But with Kurt Sutter being the way he is, can we really know exactly what is going to happen tonight?

I really do not think so.

"But why are you so anxious!?"
"Don't be sad, I'm sure another amazing show will take over your Tuesday nights!"
"It's just a show; many of the actors have new contracts for new shows!"
"It's just a show... Relax. It does not directly impact your life."

If only it was that easy.

Sons has been on for five years. Seven seasons. Five years. That's longer than most people's long-term relationships! Some of you have been with Sons since the beginning; since before you met your significant others! That's fucking insane when you think about it that way. Think about your best friend, and how much you have learned about them over the years of friendship. Or your boyfriend/girlfriend, and the things you have experienced together over five years, or what you will experience alongside each other in the next five years. Crazy, right? But that's what you have done with Sons of Anarchy.

Just think about all the shit Kurt has put us through, and then some, over these seven seasons.

Getting into a television show is more than just a way to pass the time for an hour once a week. Like I said earlier: It's way to sort out your emotions (Because let's be honest... When you're having an awful day and it happens to be the same day your favorite show is brand new something happens on that episode that you are convinced the writers stuck in there to jab you in the feels, because it is EXACTLY HOW YOU ARE FEELING RIGHT THEN AND THERE, and the waterworks start. And don't stop) It's also a way to escape those emotions, if you're one of those non-crying types.

So tonight, when you read that one asshole Facebook status that says something like "Not going online until next year because of all the SOA statuses. It's just a TV show!!!" show them my blog. Ask them to break up with their long-term lover, then come to all of us SOA fans.

This is the first TV show I've come to appreciate that is ending. I still have Grey's after 20+ seasons, and I have to say goodbye to Parenthood in January (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). To be honest, I don't really know how to process the ending of a long-term teleivison show. I could tell you guys all about the good, bad, ugly and downright scary part of breakups, or the loss of an old time friend, or quitting a job. But I just don't know how to deal with saying goodbye to one of the best TV shows to have graced my household in Box Set form.

So thank you, Dad, for not only introducing me to one of the most spectacular shows, but for simultaneously ruining my life.

And to my Sons of Anarchy family:

I know you’ll face pain, suffering, hard choices but you can’t let the weight of it choke the joy out of your life.  No matter what, you have to find the things that love you. Run to them.

There’s an old saying – that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, I don’t believe that. I think the things that try to kill you make you angry and sad. Strength comes from the good things, your family, your friends, the satisfaction of hard work. Those are the things that will keep you whole, those are the things to hold onto when you’re broken.

Here's to the #FinalRide

I am a horrible blogger.

Okay, maybe not horrible...

... Lazy. Lazy is a much better word.

Once upon a time I won an award for the 'Worst Blogger In The World', while simultaneously winning the Guinness World Record for 'Most Blogs Created And Abandoned After Less Than A Handful of Posts'. True story.

A few days weeks ago I attempted to play with HTML and messed up this blog pretty bad... I somehow downloaded this atrocious, free, template and just... I have no idea what happened. But now that I spent two hours on Google trying to figure out what the hell I did, I'm back. And I'm ready to roll. Hopefully.

The inspiration to begin blogging for the millionth time, an the first time on this blog, is because I am OFFICIALLY. GOING. BACK. TO. SCHOOL. FOR WRITING.

(Because who wants a degree that will make them $100k a year, anyways).

There's really no rhyme or reason to this post except for a disclaimer about where I'm going to be taking this blog since I'm making it a Going-Back-to-School-Resolution to try to post every single day except to tell ya'll this:

If you don't know me that well outside what my former-emo high school self posts on Facebook, let me give some pretty basic insight on my weird ass self:

I'm extremely opinionated, seriously passionate about what I believe in. I am a huge book and movie nerd. I follow baseball year-round, and I will blog about the Red Sox ALL baseball season. To this day I will geek out over anything Harry Potter related. I barely dress myself unless it's in leggins and a t-shirt, yet I have purple hair. I don't believe in God anymore (Er, that's a whole post in itself). I do not follow celebrity gossip all that much but I do watch the news every night. I am actually a 22 year old girl embodied in an 80 year-old man. SURPRISE!

My blog is going to reflect all of that, and then some.

I decided to stop pretending I am some sofictated, exciting writer. Most of my best journal entries are fueled by my ever-changing emotions (And by ever-changing I mean minute-by-minute. You have been warned).

I decided to stop hiding things about myself that as I got older, I realized I could help other people by talking about publically. Society tells us to be hush-hush about the embarrassing, or traumatizing or the "politically incorrect" events that happen in people's lives every single day.

Why should we ashamed of the trials and tribulations of our lives when there is definitely a person out there who has struggled the same struggle, jumped the same hurdles, or had the same doors shut in our faces? Instead of competing against one another, why can't we band together to be the generation that breaks down every barrier, every stereotype that our parents, grandparents, government and society have molded for us. You know, be the change and all that.

On a serious note.

Here is to the future of my blog. To being honest with myself, my readers.

And here is a giant middle finger to every person who ever told me that daydreaming is a waste of time. Because daydreaming is where most artists find their most influential work, I would know.