I am by no means superstitious.  However, on days when things either fall into place or fall apart, I do heed the signs bestowed upon me by my surroundings, controlled by the forces that be.  

For example, when I do all the things that could possibly end up terribly wrong, and survive unscathed, I stop pushing my luck.  I appreciate and realize the notion that perhaps, in this place and time, I belong where I am.

When things fall apart - when everything seems to be going wrong, and I have to travel somewhere, or I have some mundane appointment to go to, I stay home.  If unusual things happen to prevent my day from going as planned, especially if I had out of the ordinary plans in place, I just let whatever is supposed to happen, and not stress about it.  When things break, or accidents happen; when the day goes by so unusually wrong, yet I am left standing, I know better than to complain about the little things.  Instead, I amount it to the Universe's only way of telling me where I go from here.

A little less than a year ago, I came across a profound statement.

Time is the most valuable currency.

This struck me as an epiphany because ever since I had been able to work, I, like most people, was mistaken in thinking that the only time that had value in it was when I was on the clock for a job.  I am so thankful that an enlightened soul shared this notion.  Life is so incredibly short.  It saddens me that people's lives are so filled with having to earn a living and not spending enough time enjoying whatever pleases them.  

There are many people who are unable to get work right now.  To them, I want to say.  When you spend your time doing something, whether it be at a job, or with a person, you invest your time.  I understand that life is stressful and bills need to be paid, but if you are still here, without risking sounding insensitive or condescending, I will dare to say it could be so much worse.  No amount of money can buy you more time.  For as long as you are still here, things will get better.  They might get worse before they get better, but if you're all the way down in the downy-dumps, as they say, there is nowhere else to go but up.  

When you are wealthy in the time department, enrich your life and the lives of those around you.  Teach yourself something new, even if you can't afford to go back to school, indulge yourself at the public library.  Teach yourself how to sew, paint, crochet, dance - Find Your Thing.  Then, do your thing.  Feed your soul.  Find your joy.  Time is of the essence, and every second wasted is a second you can never earn back.  Just because you are jobless, does not make you worthless.  Invest your time in yourself, invest your time wisely.  Unemployment leaves you free to do whatever you've always wanted to do, but couldn't, because you had to commit your time to work.  Your time to work will come again, and in your free moments, you can go back to doing that thing you didn't know you loved to do.

I remember what it felt like when I hated my life.  I absolutely hated my breaths.  On more than one occasion, I thought I would have been better off dead.  I went months without laughing, even if my life was one many would have loved to live.

I thought that my hatred was due to my lack of friends, lack of money, and lack of love.

I was lonely.

I was constantly surrounded by people who pretended to adore me, yet I felt utterly alone.  I felt like I was in the middle of a room, surrounded by people who smiled at my face whenever they looked at me, but once they looked away, if I chose to start screaming, they would have never bestowed upon me another glance.  I thought I wanted a lot of friends who had excess of everything.

I felt out of place.

Then, the money came.  In piles, in bucketfuls, in bank accounts, it came.  I had so much of it, and I did not know what to do with it, so I spent it because shopping gave me instant gratification.  I experienced little bursts of happiness from spending what I made.  I thought having loads of money would fix me.    

I wanted to feel loved.

Then, he came.  Everything I thought I wanted arrived, perfectly packaged, in one person.  At least, I thought he was everything I wanted.  That is, until I knew him better and he became less of what I wanted.  It's funnily dangerous how a person can turn into a drug.  Time with him sucked the life of me, yet I could never get enough.  Time away was spent recovering from him.  He made me feel loved.

But he couldn't have possibly loved me properly for I hated myself.

Unbeknownst to me, I had been battling a mental illness that developed over the course of a decade.  It began when I was a teenager.  The years preceding my adolescence were happy ones.  I was a joyful, spoiled child.  I thought the sun rose and set just for me.  I thought that the people around me existed for my well-being and happiness.  As soon as I began coming to the realization that my version of the truth was not true, I felt like I had no control over anything around me.  I learned long and hard that my control never actually existed.  A life event occurred that left me feeling like my world was spiraling out of control.  When that happened, I began feeling nothing more than hollowing sadness.  The sort of sadness that does not even feel like sadness when it sets in.  It felt like breathing death.  My world had fallen apart, and I wanted to know why time still went on.  I began bingeing and purging.  I then would eat very little so that I would not purge so much, because I hated the way it made me feel.  Whenever I did eat, it would happen all over again.  I battled bulimia and anorexia for the better part of ten years.  I did it because I desperately wanted control over something...anything.  My estimation was that the only thing I could control was whatever happened to my body.  It ended up being a body I hated, so I abused it.  I was never satisfied with how I looked in high school and in my early twenties.  I didn't care enough to be self-conscious, I just did what made me feel pretty and didn't care about much more.

I loathed my parents, I thought older adults were misguided, and that the world according to me made more sense.  I lashed out, I became rebellious, which is sad because my parents rarely ever said, "no," to me, because my requests were not unreasonable.  I guess because of my state of mind, I just had to hate on someone, or something.  I had this boyfriend for the later part of my teen years who ended teaching me my biggest lessons on, "What to Avoid in a Significant Other at All Costs."  I was a mess, he was himself, and thank God that ended with a clean break.

I worked and attended college, but I was still miserable.  I couldn't shake it.  No one was ever good enough.  Nothing was ever good enough.  I could not figure out what in my world I could change to give me a purpose.  On my days off, I stayed in bed.  For no reason, I burst into tears.  I tried to do everything for everybody to make them happy even though I had forgotten what happiness felt like.  I dated all the wrong men.  I befriended all the wrong BFFs.  I kept putting my faith in all the wrong people and things.   I'm sure my family knew something had been amiss in me for a few years, but for the most part, they used tough love to try and snap me out of it.  It didn't work, it only pushed me away.  

It was not until I had a severe, crippling meltdown when I had fallen, shattered into a million pieces, that I knew I needed to change some things. 

That was when I knew I had to make one of two choices: stay shattered, or use every way I could humanly figure out in order to put myself together again.  I knew exactly how Humpty Dumpty felt.

Everyone I knew who had given me anything other than goodness, with the exemption of my family, I cut loose.  I packed my things, got up, and left.  I went into myself.  I became a hermit.  I suffered from mild anxiety, so it was no problem at all the find things within the safe confines of home to keep me occupied.  I reached out and held on to friends whom I knew loved me and didn't care about enabling me.  I sought those who helped me feel better.  Even if at times, I found solace in those who filled the spaces of my tumultuous past within the pages of my snake-skin bound journal.

I clung to fond memories of beach trips and sipping on vodka-soaked Crystal Light slushies upon the beautiful shores of the cold, damp, wintery beach.      

I re-lived the fights with friends who soon after became strangers.  I forgave myself for the things I said, and for the things I left unsaid.

I still felt the ache I constantly felt for wanting something more, without knowing what that something actually was.  

There is something inherently and undeniably sad about having everything and still feeling nothing.  I remember an encounter I had with a man whom I knew to be a billionaire.  He was so hollow.  I remember seeing this empty look in his eyes.  He was telling me about his jet plane collection, the trips he liked to take his family on, his stock portfolio and something about derivatives (something I only learned about more recently).  I remember him saying something to the effect of, "No matter how many planes I can make take off the ground, I can still say I am not sure what it feels like to fly.  I just go through the motions."


How sad to live life of flying without ever feeling the wind.

I did not want to live another moment and feel that way.

It is only by grace and love that I am alive today.  My journey that has finally brought me to finally being healthy.  It was more difficult than I had anticipated, but of course, it was worth it.  It is, after all, my life.  I was desperate to become healthy, and although I fought quietly alone,  I have encountered so many people along the way.  They have all, both good and bad, left an imprint that I carry with me because from them I know better.

In all the ways that pressure turns carbon into a diamond, the really awful times have molded me.  

The good times have been the sun, setting off my sparkle. 

Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed about.  Many people suffer from mental illnesses of different levels- mild, moderate to severe.  Many people remain without being diagnosed do not realize that something is really medically wrong.  From a chemical imbalance to an unbearable home/work/life situation, or a combination of both, may stem too many days that feel unlivable.

If you or someone you know may be suffering from one of the many forms of mental illness, please seek help.  Speak with a physician, or locate a counselor.
There are ways to get help in order begin the steps for diagnosis and treatment.

National Institute of Mental Health

Life is too precious for anyone to feel like they have to suffer through it.

Some people who see me automatically think that I'm this snobby, presumptuous bitch.  Which is a valid assumption.  I am well aware of the fact that I carry myself in a certain way.  Until I open my mouth, I have a somewhat cold demeanor.  I don't smile very often at people because I notice that whenever I do, they talk to me, and as much as I love people, sometimes, I just don't feel like indulging in small talk with strangers.  I can't tell you how many times a person has told me, "When I first met you, I thought you were stuck-up, but once we started talking, I realized you're a really goofy, funny, warm person."  I mention this because I realize where they're coming from.  I respect their perspective.  I can't blame them for assuming the worst, as most people do, because it's better to be pleasantly surprised than it is to be disappointed.

Lately, I have been watching the lives of those I love unfold around me.  Chapters which lasted decades have seen their final punctuation mark and the next chapter is now being written.  Most people I know and love are very blessed.  

It began with a thought.  They either had this idea for a better direction in life, or they decided they were no longer satisfied with the way things were happening for them, and they worked and strove toward the goal they decided for themselves, and they prayed.  I have known many people who have worked hard and prayed hard and got what they wanted and wished and cried and prayed for, and still were not satisfied.  I realize that some people feel a gigantic empty space within the realm of their lives, that can not be filled, no matter how great the accomplishment.  Those are never satisfied.  I also have known people who work and pray toward a goal, and when that chance comes, it is in unfamiliar territory, and out of fear, they do not take the opportunity that may have significantly, positively changed their lives.  There there are the few lucky ones, who work their will into their future, arrive at the changing point, "Grab the bull by the horns," as they say, and realize that the point to which they were brought, is exactly where they should be, and they feel blessed, looking forward to the next amazing leg of their journey.

I realize that there are many different variations of scenarios and reactions people may have to those situations.  The bottom line is, most people are never satisfied, some people allow their fear to dictate their lives, and some people find blessing in simply reaching the point they are at.  I know I am a combination of those.

I used to fall only under the category of the first two people I described.  I had everything, and still felt like had nothing.  I was constantly surrounded by people, and still felt lonely.  I lived in a gorgeous home, but still felt homeless.  I had the chance to do bigger, and better things with my life, but out of the fear of the unknown, I put the brakes on even before the engine started.  On the surface, I was this bubbly, cheerful person, but inside, I was in shambles.  To be honest, I don't remember a lot about how I felt, nor how my thought processes went, all I know is that I can look at photographs of my old self and not recognize that person.  Is this something I beat myself up for?  No.  There's not reason to look back and regret.    

The beauty of struggle is, when it's over, and you're still here, even if you're cut and bruised , that means you won.      

Being unhappy is a pretty shitty way to live.  It is a choice most people lazily allow themselves to default to, because they feel like the circumstances which surround them are beyond their control.  This is true.  We can not control the external circumstances in which we are immersed, we can only control the ways in which we deal with them.  This brings me to one of my most favorite sentiments, via Gabrielle Bernstein,

"If your happiness is based on external experience, then, my darling, you are fucked."

I admire how effectively the f-bomb is used here, and she is absolutely right!

I don't want to change the way people perceive me, I'd rather affect their emotion while they spend time with me.

I don't expect people who get what they want to think that life is all cupcakes and butterflies, because this world can be a scary, nasty place.  However, you are only defeated when you've chosen to believe you are defeated.  You are only a victim when you allow yourself to be victimized.  Yes, people are awful and can do horrible things to you, but it is within you to overcome them, and the unthinkable situations that have happened to people.  Things can always be worse.  This is when mental fortitude and spiritual resilience comes in.  Nobody said this world would be gentle.  It is within you to make this life worth living.    

I don't expect people to dive into their manifested dreams fearlessly and without caution, but I do hope that they believe in themselves enough to give themselves a chance to at least take the first steps to allow themselves to get where they always thought they wanted to go.

As for my miraculously having turned from a pessimistic ingrate into the perpetually at-peace version of myself - It took conscious effort to shift perspective.  Before, I simply didn't realize that it was within my capacity to change my thoughts and feelings about life.  My life is pretty rad.  I'm not bragging, I just wish that more people would feel the same way, because, Folks, this life is the only one you'll have...in this body, with those people whom you love.  This is it.  This isn't rehearsals.  You don't get the double take.  After this perspective, I'm not sure what the next one will be like, but it's better to appreciate it now because in terms of time, and how much time there is, and how little time we have; Life is a Fleeting Moment.  Make sure you approach each with a perspective that'll make the following moments just that much better than the ones before.