tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46517077718444207702024-03-13T06:00:54.823-07:00Speaking Fiction, Writing RealityChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.comBlogger125125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-35985098401319213832019-09-10T16:43:00.002-07:002019-09-10T16:43:55.750-07:00lostI'm lost.<br />
<br />
So lost I don't even know where I am anymore<br />
<br />
And I didn't even realize I was lost until I looked up and realized I couldn't remember how I got here.<br />
<br />
A friend told me to try writing about it. Maybe that would help. Maybe that would ignite something in my brain and I would remember who I was again.<br />
<br />
As a kid I always felt so sure about everything. I was going to move to New York and go to Columbia and be on Broadway. And then I got scared of moving so far away from home.<br />
<br />
And then I was sure I was going to move to California and work for Disney and one day I would work myself up to be an Imagineer. And then I moved to California, and I worked at Disney, and I realized how horrid it was. And it drained everything about me.<br />
<br />
And I was sure I was going to marry that boy and we would have a family and I would be a stay at home mom who was an author of YA novels. And I did not marry him and I fell out of love with him and that was ok. But in the darkness that came with that, I also lost all of my creative spark that made me believe I would be a great author.<br />
<br />
Writing for kids seemed so easy when I was a kid. I wrote my first manuscript at 15. A Cinderella type story. Wrote it all in a month after being inspired from a book about writing.<br />
<br />
My second book came at 16, a story about having a sibling with Autism that I wrote for my best friend.<br />
<br />
And another book at 18, a behemoth of 300+ pages about Wendy being torn away from Neverland and struggling to find her way back after it was lost to her. I loved that book, still consider it one of my greatest works. It was the last piece of my writing that my dad read before he died. I wouldn't let him read it until it was finished. It came together when he was in the hospital and he took it with him to his chemo treatments. He was the one who urged me to go to school for writing. He was the one who said my true gift was writing.<br />
<br />
And yet I'm the one that's lost now.<br />
<br />
I'm 26 and I don't know where the last 8 years went. I graduated college 5 years ago, and it seems like I've been treading water ever since, getting farther and farther away from shore.<br />
<br />
And I just don't know where to go.<br />
<br />
I look towards the future in my mind and it's empty. Like there's nothing there. I mean, the important things are there, like my boyfriend and my best friends.<br />
<br />
But people keep asking me what it is I want to do...and I really don't have an answer for them. Because I feel like nothing.<br />
<br />
And even that is not necessarily true.<br />
<br />
What I want to do is go back to that childhood version of myself that was so sure she was going to move to New York and be on Broadway. I want to move to New York. I want to audition for shows and try to make something of myself. I don't feel like I was ever happier than I was on stage. I want to try and find that happy again.<br />
<br />
But I say nothing because it seems impossible to me. I am too old. I have nothing on my resume since 2010. I am not coordinated enough to dance anymore. The only singing I do is to soundtracks alone in my car.<br />
<br />
And I look around and I just feel so lost.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-67686606265750126662018-12-28T22:16:00.000-08:002018-12-28T22:16:14.435-08:00The BurdenMy brain won't let me type the words I have to say. It's really frustrating because the entire time I was on my way home, I knew precisely the right way to lay it out. But now that I'm here staring at the page, everything goes blank.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I guess the gist of what I'm trying to say is that there's two sides of depression-- the during and the after. When you're in the midst of the depression, you feel like you need to bottle it all in. You feel like you can't talk to anyone about it because you don't want to bother them. You feel like you're in it alone, because you are a burden to everyone. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You know somewhere in the back of your brain that that's not true.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But the rest of your brain is full of black clouds, full of bars on windows that won't let you see that rational place at the back of your brain. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's a war zone and you're lucky you're alive in the first place.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But then there's the part of the "after" depression, cuz, you know, depression is like being an alcoholic, you'll always be one no matter the length of time that passes.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When the worst part of the depression is over, when the black rain cloud that has shrouded your brain for years and years on end finally moves along, you begin to see it in others. And you never want them to feel the way you did. You want to do everything in your power to keep that feeling as far away from them as possible.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You fight with all your might to keep your loved ones safe. You try to take on their battles and you fight off that black cloud that is shrouding their brain like an old enemy. And you toe the lie, because you're doing this because you love them and you want them to know they are not alone.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And the thing that sucks about it, is that you know that they feel the full force of that burden. They know you genuinely care and are not bothered by them, but it's in the back of their brain full of black clouds and bars on windows that won't let them see that place in the back of their brain.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's a war zone and you just hope they survive.</div>
Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-65230135186478683122018-11-16T09:41:00.002-08:002018-11-16T09:41:34.389-08:00strongerI've noticed a repetitive theme in my writing and my thinking and my life dealing with mental illness.<br />
<br />
I constantly feel like I'm so detached from the person that I used to be "pre-mental illness". I always strive to be back to that person.<br />
<br />
I want to be that person that didn't feel dead inside. The person that took joy in everything. The person that always had a reason to be happy to be alive.<br />
<br />
The weird thing is that lately I've noticed I will occasionally start to feel like my old self again.<br />
<br />
And the more I feel it, the more I realize that I don't want to be her again. The time that I idolize in my mind never really existed.<br />
<br />
She was unhealthy.<br />
<br />
She had so many issues.<br />
<br />
She wasn't a nice person. To herself or to those around her.<br />
<br />
She let her emotions take over Would go blind with rage. Red with jealousy.<br />
<br />
And she would let herself fall so far into the black hole of her mind, that it would take days to get out if it didn't destroy her all together.<br />
<br />
The more that I sit and think about these things, the more that I realize that depression has always been a part of me and who I am.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't want to be the old me anymore.</div>
<div>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />She's bullshit.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I just want to be one thing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Stronger.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I want to move forward with life and allow myself to feel my emotions, but not let them overpower my common sense.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am learning to be kinder to people, including myself. Because everyone is already hard enough on themselves.</div>
<div>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />I'm not going to let my mind take over anymore, not allowing myself to get destroyed from the inside out.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I strive to build healthy relationships with people and not let myself get the better of me. I want to understand that everyone has a past, including myself. It does not define them.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I accept that I have my issues and that what I am will always be a part of who I am, but it will not define who I will become.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I will not be in denial about who I used to be. But I will not be that person again.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I will be stronger.</div>
Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-25885948030869180712018-11-14T02:13:00.000-08:002018-11-14T02:13:36.809-08:00black holeThe thing about black holes is that they look so beautiful from afar.<br />
<br />
They look peaceful.<br />
<br />
They literally redesign the universe around them.<br />
<br />
And in their eyes, you can see into an entirely new universe. Or maybe you see into nothing.<br />
<br />
No one really knows.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I feel like a black hole.<br />
<br />
I start out as a star.<br />
<br />
Bright.<br />
<br />
Providing to those around me.<br />
<br />
Going along just like I always have been.<br />
<br />
And here's the thing; all I want to be is a star.<br />
<br />
I just want to go about my day as I was intended to, providing happiness to the worlds around me.<br />
<br />
I want to enjoy things and not worry about breaking and destroying it all.<br />
<br />
All I want is to be happy.<br />
<br />
But I feel myself starting to crack. I feel everything that I've built up inside of me, the strength and the power that has taken me billions of years to form, start to fall away. I feel myself imploding.<br />
<br />
And I've seen it happen before.<br />
<br />
I break and slowly, so slowly, I start to fall into myself, start to fall into darkness.<br />
<br />
And everything that made me happy, everything that I helped, everything that I helped build and grow gets sucked away.<br />
<br />
The light I once had is gone.<br />
<br />
And I'm wasting away into nothing at all.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-45927312083591577762018-11-05T20:26:00.003-08:002018-11-05T20:26:41.227-08:00numb.Is this what happiness feels like?<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's been so long, I think I've forgotten how to feel.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Because it's been so long, and all I've ever known is numb.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
One day at a time, I try to feel something new, something real. I try to enjoy the little things in life. I try to feel the breeze that brushes across my face and actually <i>feel</i> something. Anything.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And all I want to feel is happy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sometimes I wonder if I do feel happy, and my brain is so confused, so shocked, that all it's letting me feel is nothing. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sometimes I worry that I will never be able to experience true happiness again because my brain has forgotten how to respond with anything but numb.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sometimes I think that maybe I'm fooling myself into thinking I'm happy, when in truth, I'm still nowhere near.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Mental illness sucks. I can never be sure that the feelings I feel are mine, or if they're part of the messed up chemicals that are misfiring in my brain. I never know if what I am is actually me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
Things have been going so right for me lately.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So many reasons for me to have moved on and feel like my life is improving. So many reasons that I should be happy.</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And yet, the more I fight to have access to my feelings --the more I try to engage with those parts of my feelings that I haven't touched in years--the harder it is to feel anything at all.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I still fight, because I know I'm meant to feel more than numb. I'm meant to feel happy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This is what happiness feels like, right?</div>
Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-65313619605058431022018-11-03T20:52:00.002-07:002018-11-03T20:52:49.259-07:00crashI've almost managed to tune it out completely.<br />
<br />
It plays constantly, but I move so fast, it fades into the background.<br />
<br />
The faster I move, the farther away it seems. The more normal it seems to feel.<br />
<br />
If I don't stop, it won't catch me.<br />
<br />
And if I take a moment to breathe, it will consume me whole.<br />
<br />
And so we keep going. Going, going, going. And it's never gone.<br />
<br />
It's loud.<br />
<br />
It consumes me at every moment, so loud I can barely hear myself think. I just have to process louder, think louder, talk louder, be louder than the loudest thing I've ever known.<br />
<br />
From time to time, I'll sit down and can ignore the noise. Pretend like everything is OK.<br />
<br />
It's not until I'm truly by myself, until I truly have nothing else to do to occupy my time, does it take over.<br />
<br />
Like waves, the noise inside my head crashes over me, time and time again. It's overwhelming, it's too much to handle, and it doesn't ever stop for long. It comes to be too much where I can't hear anything else, can't see anything else. It's just everywhere. And it never ends.<br />
<br />
And if I stop and sit there for too long, I will drown.<br />
<br />
There are times, though, when all is silent.<br />
<br />
Those scare me.<br />
<br />
Times when I listen to the right song. Times when I'm with my friends and having a good time. Times when my dog is cuddling with me and everything just seems OK.<br />
<br />
Perhaps the most terrifying of all are the times when I'm the most vulnerable, but I feel completely protected. When I'm content to lay there in silence, and have it actually be silence. To make it feel like the noise never even existed in the first place.<br />
<br />
Like none if it was ever actually there. And it just feels so...right.<br />
<br />
I sit there and wait for the next wave to break, wait for it to crash into me. And wait for my safety and protection to turn back into drowning. The anticipation of the ending of that feeling lasts a lifetime.<br />
<br />
And that's what scares me the most.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-81474643441179379092018-10-05T13:42:00.000-07:002018-10-05T13:42:22.183-07:00smudge.
<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> There is a hole in my soul. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Maybe not so much a hole as it is a smudge. And the more I scrub at it to get rid of it, the larger it gets. That pesky black smudge keeps getting larger and larger until I can’t remember the parts of me it’s even covering.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Maybe I’m down there. The real me. The one that is funny and sassy and likes to have a good time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> The me that can stay up until all hours of the night talking and laughing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> The me that can trust.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> The me that feels excited about the smallest things in life.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> The me that doesn’t feel the need to sleep constantly so I can ignore my loneliness.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> The me that feels passion.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> The me that wants to write anything and everything.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> It's been 5 years since I’ve felt like myself.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Not that you were the integral thing that made me feel more like myself and without you it’s suddenly gone.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> No. There was something within me that existed before you and somehow now that you’re gone, it’s disappeared too. Like you spilled the ink that made the smudge and covered that part of myself.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> I can already hear people’s thoughts if they read this. Here she goes, talking about him again. Won’t she ever stop and get over it?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> I am over you. For the record.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> But this isn’t about you. I don’t hate you. But I hate the mess that you’ve left behind.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> The only time lately where I truly feel almost like myself again is the moments when I’m alone in my car and I’m blasting some of my favorite bands, bands I listened to before you. And I’m shouting along to the lyrics and I feel…alive.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> We all joke about how we’re dead inside. It’s my personal favorite type of humor.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> What if it’s true?</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> What if the smudge is not a smudge and the mess is not a mess. What if it’s pieces of me withering away and dying, never to come back to life again?</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> What if I’m actually dead inside, never to come back to life again? Never able to have my quick witted humor come through again? Never able to trust again? Never able to feel truly alive again?</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Chelsea—dead at 25. Maybe earlier, actually.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Chelsea—dead at 21, but didn’t realize it until 25.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Here are my wishes, in case you were curious. I want to be turned into a tree, no plaque, no memento. And at my burial (planting?) I want “Blackbird” by the Beatles to play. Oh, and I want an open bar. And for everyone to bring their dogs to visit my tree so they can pee on it.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> But most of all, I want it to be a happy occasion. I want to be a happy little tree (thanks Bob Ross).</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Funny how I can discuss the biggest commitment of the afterlife, but in real everyday life, I have trouble committing to anything.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> And I have you to blame for a lot of this. It was a huge whirlwind of a relationship, of promises of commitment and belief that we could beat the odds. I planned a whole life at 20 years old, figured out a career and a life path that would work for us.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> And when it was over, I was 3 weeks away from graduation and never more clueless about what I wanted in my life. You dropped the first blot of ink.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> With time, I decided I wanted a life for myself. I would be independent. I would make my own plans, and do my own things and never wait around for a man or let one change anything that I wanted to do. I was going to life every day for the rest of my life for myself, and myself alone.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Now if I only knew who myself was.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> I scrub and scrub and scrub at that smudge on my soul and it never gets smaller.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> I try to find myself in any way that I can. Writing doesn’t appeal to me anymore—you have to have some form of passion within your soul for that. But I can’t see my soul.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> I tried to find myself in booze, but instead found a lot of bad decisions that wrecked more havoc on my soul.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> I tried to find myself in work, but instead found that I can’t seem to be truly happy no matter where I am. No matter how hard I work, how high I climb, it never seems enough.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> I tried to maintain strong friendships, which have gotten me through more than anything. My true friendships have brought me up, have given me glimpses at my true self, make me remember who I’ve always been.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> But friendships only go so far. Friendships can’t be with you at 2am when you can’t sleep and can only stare at the ceiling, wondering how you got yourself here.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> I’ve moved on from you. I’ve gotten hurt, not by my own design. Things outside of anyone’s control have kept me apart from some true connections. Failure after failure has gotten me questioning if maybe I’m meant to be alone.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> And the smudge grows larger.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> At this point, I sabotage anyone that tries to get close to me.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> I swipe left and right, and occasionally I’ll meet someone who I feel like I can maybe connect with. And very quickly afterwards, before we even meet, I find some great reasons not to continue this.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Chelsea, dead at 25, ghosts every man that walks into her life.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> And the thought that maybe I’m not good enough grows more. And I’m the one watering that plant. I’m the dog peeing on my own tree.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Part of me thinks maybe I need some major life change to help blot out that stain. Maybe if I move 3000 miles away to the other side of the country, I’ll find some form of happiness out there in the sunshine.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> I could outrun my issues.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Maybe I can run right into myself.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Or maybe everything will be the exact same, but now I’ll just live 3000 miles away from almost all of my friends and I have another excuse to fall deeper into the black pit of my soul.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> ...</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> And I still won’t be myself.</span></span></div>
<br />Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-24553689287341177882017-03-11T20:38:00.000-08:002017-03-11T20:38:05.385-08:00Happiness.It's been such a long time since we've talked.<br />
<br />
Since September.<br />
<br />
I feel like it's been a lifetime since then. Well, maybe not a LIFETIME, but I'm consistently amazed by how quickly life can change.<br />
<br />
Well, here it goes.<br />
<br />
In early October, I learned that my transfer at Disneyland had been approved and I was able to leave the Guest Relations department (where I was miserable, had crippling anxiety, and all around just didn't enjoy) and go back to my home area of New Orleans Attractions. Not only that, but to the Haunted Mansion, my true home at the resort.<br />
<br />
It honestly was one of the best moves of my life, and things dramatically got better for me. I had less anxiety, was happy going to work at Disney still, was with some great old friends and quickly made new ones, and things were just going up. But...what goes up, must eventually come down.<br />
<br />
About two weeks after I went back to the Mansion, the HR department at my full time office job called me in. They had heard I was not happy (which was very true, I did not enjoy that job for any reason except perhaps the money) and wanted to discipline me because I was not happy. That makes sense, right? So they pretty much stated they had it out for me and watched every little move that I made, including my computer. One day, about a week later, I took a short break of maybe 20-25 minutes to go for a walk with my office mate, and then worked through my lunch in order to recuperate this time. Well, the next day I was fired for working through my lunch period. Because, again, that makes sense.<br />
<br />
But, honestly, the jokes on them. Two days later I was hired at a dog daycare I had applied to on a whim a few weeks before because I couldn't think of anything that would've made me happier. And, honestly, I haven't really been happier since. Working two part time jobs has been much more beneficial to me on multiple levels than one full time job and a part time job. I have more money, for one, despite not having a steady 40 hours a week at a higher rate. I also seem to have a lot more free time as I've managed to work out a good schedule for myself (with the exception of the holiday season when I worked about 70-80 hours a week for almost a month straight).<br />
<br />
But most important, I am so much happier.<br />
<br />
For the past several years, I thought that having a job that paid me a decent wage would lead to happiness. After all, then I wouldn't have to rely on my family for anything. Not health insurance, not rent money, not incidentals, nothing. I was so focused on preparing myself financially, that I didn't factor in how absolutely miserable it would make me. Working in an office never appealed to me as a child, and for a short period of time, I told myself that I need to get over that. So I worked in an office job, and realized why it never appealed to me. I love being out in the world, love to be constantly on the move, love to help people, and love to do something new with every passing hour. And when I was set financially, I realized that I was actually very very poor. Because I was miserable and spending all of my money on things to fill the void, from food to random electronic items.<br />
<br />
It's weird to say but losing my job was the best thing that ever happened to me.<br />
<br />
It made me appreciate what I have in life, made me appreciate the little things in life, made me appreciate the value of hard work and determination, made me appreciate that I truly know in my heart who I am and what's best for me even if it doesn't make much sense to the rest of the world.<br />
<br />
Only I know what makes me happy.<br />
<br />
And I can honestly say that I work at two of the best jobs ever, and they truly make me happy. It's two things that I've always wanted to do, work at my favorite ride at Disneyland, and work with dogs all day. The hours are long, it's physically demanding, there's little reward, but I just feel so fulfilled at the end of the day, and that's all that truly matters.<br />
<br />
In January, I went on a wonderful 9 day vacation to Walt Disney World with my best friends from both coasts and it was amazing. I felt so lucky to have that opportunity to do it, and now I'm looking forward to new adventures.<br />
<br />
Like going to Vegas. And moving to a new apartment with my best friend in May. And learning new things. And going to concerts. And saying yes to life. And to being happy.<br />
<br />
This last weekend was my 24th birthday, and it was a lot of fun, despite some not so fun things happening. I went to Los Angeles for the weekend, and visited some great museums in Hollywood, as well as went to the Farmer's Market and to the Griffith Observatory. Then, we decided to go a video game bar in LA, where my phone was either lost or stolen (at this point though, it's safe to say it was stolen). Everyone was freaking out I had lost my phone, but it honestly was kind of freeing. On the actual day of my birthday, a bunch of my friends and I went to Universal Studios and I had no phone. It was nice, to be able to enjoy the world around me without having to be attached to a screen. I didn't have to worry about taking pictures, or posting them on Instagram, or making Facebook posts or anything. I could make memories for myself. And I didn't worry about losing my phone either, knowing I would probably be losing all of my pictures and everything, because the important part was that I had the memories that went along with those pictures. It honestly really made me stop, think, and appreciate life.<br />
<br />
Of course, the next day I bought a new phone and wound up not losing a whole lot, which was a real relief to me, however I was prepared either way. It makes for some story of a 24th birthday though.<br />
<br />
Honestly, life is nothing what I thought it would be when I was 24. At one point of my life, I thought I would be married and have a house and a family by this point, or maybe be a successful writer or actress, or maybe live in another country on a new adventure. I never thought at 24 I would feel the same I did at 20. Living in an apartment, single, no kids (except for my precious fur child), and still working at the same job I got right after I turned 19. But even still, I am ready to see what new things life will bring me. Not everyone follows the same pattern, and some people, like me, are meant to lose things to appreciate what they do have. Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs to meet Prince Charming. Sometimes you have to kick a lot of ass by yourself to realize your self worth. Sometimes you have to be strong because you have no other choice and you have to keep going. But I am still very lucky.<br />
<br />
Because I know true happiness.<br />
<br />Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-84615781857822949142016-09-22T16:17:00.000-07:002016-09-22T16:17:37.262-07:00Which Way Do I Go?I'm bored.<br />
<br />
And I say that on so much more than just a surface level.<br />
<br />
For so long now, I've felt so utterly bored, searching and scanning for something that makes my heart beat fast and the blood to rush to my head.<br />
<br />
For so long, I've been searching for a passion.<br />
<br />
I realized the other day, while talking to my mom on the phone, one of the past times that makes me feel extremely old and very young all at the same time, that I haven't felt passion in so so so long.<br />
<br />
The last time I distinctly remember feeling a form of passion last for more than a few fleeting minutes or hours was two hears ago, when I was still working as a Trainer at the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. Training people how things worked, and being able to explain the history to those who visited, and share my passion with them--THAT was what I felt passion for. <br />
<br />
Before that, it was probably my first year of college when I was writing for me, writing stories that I wanted to share with the world, the passion I wanted to SHARE.<br />
<br />
And honestly that was the longest lasting passion. Writing. For weeks on end I would stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning, typing away at my next great novel, as my brain filled with more and more stories to tell and share. And I was good. I am good. The only difference between then and now is the fact that I seem to have lost my passion. <br />
<br />
I don't know where it's gone.<br />
<br />
I miss the days where I used to stay up so late with a nonstop thread of ideas, and I couldn't sleep until I had painted them all on the page. I miss the days of bashing my head against the wall because I was so frustrated because I could see point A and point C, but I couldn't figured out how to work B in there. I miss having to run out to the store every week because I constantly was running out of ink and red pens.<br />
<br />
Mistake after mistake. Correction after correction. Sleepless night after sleepless night.<br />
<br />
I loved it all.<br />
<br />
I had never felt so alive. <br />
<br />
I miss that.<br />
<br />
And I guess what I'm trying to say now is that I'm just so bored of not feeling that passion. I don't know what has changed in that time. Actually, I can't say that exactly truthfully....<br />
<br />
A lot has changed in that time. I went to school and got pulled apart by my peers and professors. I was forced to write not what I was passionate about, but about what my professors were passionate about, and my peers were passionate about. But rarely ever what I was passionate about. They didn't want to hear about it, none of them.<br />
<br />
And slowly I stopped bothering to do it on my own time. I didn't have the time. And I didn't have the passion. And I didn't have the audience.<br />
<br />
And a lot of stuff has happened now. From that, to a pretty bad relationship ending, to working full time... Slowly, and yet quickly at the same time, things started to pile up, started to drown out my passion. And then it was gone.<br />
<br />
And here I am, part of me stuck on the bottom of a hole, and the other part of me looking down from the top. Not sure how I got there, and not sure which way is better to go. <br />
<br />
And I realize that I've been standing there for so long and it's like right now I'm just bored of it. I need to chose a direction to go. I need to find my passion again.<br />
<br />
But I just don't know which way will get me there.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-47845594956014555062016-07-07T20:36:00.000-07:002016-07-07T20:36:34.821-07:00I Am A Millennial. And I Am Not Alone.I've been sitting on this a long time.<br />
<br />
I mean, not physically sitting on it.<br />
<br />
Metaphorically sitting.<br />
<br />
As most of you who've been around here probably know, a vast majority of my life revolves around the internet.<br />
<br />
I am a part of the Millennial Generation, the generation of kids that have grown up to be known as lazy, irresponsible, and who take things for granted.<br />
<br />
But for those of us who are a part of this generation, we know differently. When we were kids, we still went outside and played in the street. We still had sleepovers with friends where we put on makeup and talked about boys all night. We went to elementary and probably most of middle school without a cell phone, and once we did have one, it was only to call mom and dad when they forgot to pick you up after rehearsals. When we were in high school, we still knew how to hold a conversation with our peers, and notes were passed not via text, but via pencil and crumbled up piece of paper.<br />
<br />
More than anything, though, we were told that we could and would do anything we wanted, so long as we worked hard enough.<br />
<br />
And then we went to college and were faced with the harsh reality of living in this generation. Colleges were overcrowded, and we were underfunded. In our youth, we thought we would never have to go to college for more than 4 years, but when we actually got there, we realized that classes over overcrowded and that class that we NEED to take Senior year is only offered Fall semester and it was full before you even had the chance to sign up for classes. And that one bleep meant you couldn't take 2 required classes your last semester because it was a prerequisite and now you've added an extra year and an extra $50,000 to your debt to get a piece of paper.<br />
<br />
And then comes the glorious day when you finally do get your diploma. And you have speeches from scholars of a different era, telling you how blessed you are to grow up in the America of today. How we will go far in life with some hard work. The problem is, you just spent the past 4-6 years of college being told from your professors that you will never amount to anything because it doesn't matter that you go to college anymore, it only matters if you get a job that leads immediately into a career. But you brush them off and still have high hopes.<br />
<br />
And when you graduate, you realize how truly fucked you are.<br />
<br />
Because the generations ahead of you are all still in the workforce. People are working into their 60's and 70's, and refusing to hire anyone without a Masters degree in an irrelevant subject and 17 years of experience for an entry level position. And you were too busy in college to get an unpaid internship because you were on your own, and you needed to pay rent and feed yourself and pay the $200,000 worth of student debt you had accumulated and you sacrificed a social life to do such. You needed the money to survive. But you had been told you could do anything as long as you worked hard enough.<br />
<br />
But no one should have to work for free.<br />
<br />
Some of us got lucky and entered the workforce. Were lucky enough, perhaps, to have parents who were able to pay for housing, or schooling, or food, and in turn, they were rewarded with an internship and the opportunity to pursue something they actually wanted to do. But then the rest of us were stuck, still struggling to pay rent and put food on the table and anti-depressants and have completely blown off the student debt because you can't afford all four. And you work a dead end job because 4-6 years of college and a degree and 4-6 years of working a paying job mean nothing in this day and age when you're applying for jobs, and the managers of those companies expect you to have the experience of someone twice your age, but to only pay you half your worth.<br />
<br />
And so we escape, however we can, trying to be social in this day and age where anything in the world is just a click away. You really can be anything you want to be, even though it's just an avatar on a screen. And then we are called lazy, and stupid, and irresponsible, and worthless, because we truly KNOW we are worth more than what we are appraised as.<br />
<br />
We may be lazy, but we work 2 jobs just to have our bank accounts break even at the end of the day.<br />
<br />
We may be stupid, but we know more about history, politics, and the people around us because rather than watch one news source on tv, we are surrounded by so many opinions and ideas, and articles from everywhere around the world.<br />
<br />
We may be irresponsible, but we still strive for perfection in everything we do, and we still work our asses off in order to get a millimeter ahead in life.<br />
<br />
And we may be worthless, but we know what we are truly made up of. More than any other generation before us, we have learned who we are, and what we want in life. And we will not take no for an answer.<br />
<br />
And sometimes its hard. And we fall. And most of us go around silently protesting in our heads, knowing we are right. But outside, we try to act normal. Try to push back the fact that this pressure we have had placed on our shoulders has left a terrible scar, the scar of depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, and many other things. But those things aren't normal in everyday life.<br />
<br />
Which is why we flock to the internet. To be seen and to be heard for who we truly are. To realize that maybe, just maybe, we are not alone in this world. But maybe so many people that surround us are experiencing the same issues.<br />
<br />
I was with a couple of friends of mine from college a few of weeks ago, and I was amazed at how much we talked. We hadn't seen each other, or spent much quality time together, since we graduated a couple of years ago. But we spent the whole day together and did nothing but talk. Not even about petty subjects, but about the problems in our heart, things we fear in the world, what our true desires are, what we really truly want to be in life, and our crippling anxiety. And as we each talked, the others would listen. Not just listen, but LISTEN, truly listen. And try to place ourselves into the other's shoes, and ask questions until we understood. And for the first time in what seems like forever, I felt truly understood, like what I thought and said mattered.<br />
<br />
For the first time in forever, I didn't feel so alone.<br />
<br />
I've been watching a lot of YouTube at work lately because it's nice to have something on in the background. When I was younger, I would watch videos about silly things. But the deeper I got into the sphere, the more I realized how much I loved vlogs about people's daily lives. And so often in these videos, these people, who I feel are my friends despite the fact none of them have any idea who I am, they would apologize for their lives being so "boring" and that "nothing was really happening".<br />
<br />
But I'm still fascinated by the way that so many humans live their lives all around the world. The internet has really opened my eyes to the world around me, and truly makes me understand the fact that I am not alone in my struggles, but that hundreds, if not thousands, or maybe even millions, of other humans feel exactly like I do, and go through the same things I do.<br />
<br />
And in that way, we are not alone.<br />
<br />
And part of me has the desire to spread myself through the internet in much the same way.<br />
<br />
As you all know, I try and be extremely open about myself and my mental health issues and the goings on of my heart. And I do that because I simply can't be anything except myself, so why would I even want to hide the only thing I am? A large part of me is considering taking these blogs to the next level, and sharing myself, and all the things that I am in video form. Expanding my reach, and maybe helping someone like me in another stretch of the globe. Reminding others that they are not alone.<br />
<br />
I've always said that I want to make a difference in the world, even if it is in just one person. And I was taught growing up that I could do anything I set my heart to.<br />
<br />
What if this is my chance?Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-12658257427264919682016-05-31T19:22:00.004-07:002016-05-31T19:22:37.008-07:00dif·fer·ence [ /ˈdif(ə)rəns/ ]Like most posts, this is probably gonna be a hell of a lot of word vomit.<br />
<br />
I just need to get all of this year and thoughts off my chest.<br />
<br />
When last we spoke, I had just transferred to a new area and was having a semi emotional crisis. Well, I have now gotten a new job at a new company (however, I still work at Disney on the side for the benefits cuz why the hell not) and am going through a completely different crisis. Without going into too much detail, I work for a mortgage lending company making profiles to help realtors and loan officers look good for their clients.<br />
<br />
It's super easy work.<br />
<br />
Also meaningless.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, because I love getting paid so much for not doing much at all and not really having to work with people at all because we all know how much I hate people. But within my first week of work I started having a mental crisis because I realized what I want to do with my life, which is something I've always known, but I never realized just how truly important it was to me.<br />
<br />
I want to make a difference. And I want what I do with my life to matter.<br />
<br />
And this doesn't, and it's a weird feeling because I've had some pretty meaningless jobs in my lifetime. And I never really realized how I ever thought Disney would make a difference in the world, until I realized how much it affected me growing up and how much I thrived to be that for everyone I encountered until I stopped doing it every day.<br />
<br />
The other day I went to the Museum of Tolerance, which is the Holocaust history museum here in LA. While I was there, they had an Anne Frank exhibit.<br />
<br />
When I was very young I read The Diary of Anne Frank, which pretty much inspired me for the rest of my life. There were two very important things I took from her diary.<br />
<br />
The first was the belief that people, no matter what, are good at heart. Even if it doesn't seem like it at time, and god is it easy to want to believe otherwise, it really is a belief I hold true at heart. Everyone is good, or at least has a little bit of good in them. It's also been an inspiration for me, to be a little kinder when sometimes all I can try to be is rude. Or try to be understanding when something really upsets me. I just try to put myself in everyone's shoes, and see things from their perspective.<br />
<br />
The second belief is that I just want to make a difference, somehow. Anne didn't know what she wanted to be, but she knew she wanted to make a difference to people, even if it was just one person. And that's always stuck with me. Because sometimes we can be insignificant, honestly, but if I can change just ONE person's life, then maybe I'm just a little bit bigger. And maybe my life has a little bit more meaning.<br />
<br />
And that's all I really want honestly. Just to make a difference, somehow.<br />
<br />
Not many people understand that about me. And often times it probably comes across wrong when I express my dislike for something. And it's not just because I see something as boring, but because I fail to see how these things would make a truly substantial difference to anyone's lives.<br />
<br />
But in other news...<br />
<br />
I know I say this a lot.<br />
<br />
But I think I've actually given up on dating now.<br />
<br />
As many of you who actually know me know, I've had a realistically difficult relationship experience the last few years. Just about 2 years ago, I broke up with someone who I thought was my soul mate and had a horrible time coping. And eventually my coping mechanism (AFTER being an alcoholic for a brief period of time), became to try to love again. So I dated. A lot. I think I've dated half a dozen or so men since then. Some good, some not so good.<br />
<br />
And I did love (well, something like that I suppose) again, even if it was only briefly. But that relationship really made me wake up and realize that I was capable of love, and showed me what it was like to be in a real relationship, with someone who truly respected me up until the very end. I saw, in a very brief period of time, what a healthy relationship was supposed to be like.<br />
<br />
And like most things in my life, it came to an end, but not bitterly. All good thoughts. And so I continued to date, or try to. And it's just gotten increasingly more difficult. I was on Tinder, A LOT. And I figured because I had successfully dated from there before, that I shouldn't have much of an issue with it. But, towards the end, I was getting tired of that way of meeting people. Of the fact that relationships, or something like that, started forming from convenience's sake. And I feel like I rarely got to know the other person on the other side of the screen, and when I did, it wasn't who I expected or wanted it to be.<br />
<br />
And so, after one pretty terrible date, and communication with another seemed to waste away and die with no explanation, I decided to call it quits. I deleted the app. I deleted the boys.<br />
<br />
And I've decided that maybe I'll just have to do the good-old-fashioned way of getting to know people. Just happening to meet someone, someday, and getting to know them through conversation, and to allow for the growing of feelings. But I'm not focused on that. And honestly, I could care less about finding a man right now.<br />
<br />
Rather, I'd prefer to focus on myself.<br />
<br />
I want to become the best version of myself for myself. I've started eating healthier, and stopped eating out as much. Drinking more water, and less soda. Trying to spend more time with the people (and dogs) that are precious to me before it's too late. And maybe just trying to make a name for myself.<br />
<br />
And maybe, when I do all of this, I'll truly be able to make a difference.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-9975600714589038172016-01-24T15:39:00.001-08:002016-01-24T15:39:50.571-08:00Don't Judge Me (Too Late)I don't know what's wrong with me lately.<br />
<br />
Honestly.<br />
<br />
Honestly I've been going through a lot of changes in my life. Just recently I transferred areas at work again, dropping my full time status, and putting myself in a totally new situation where I know less than a handful of people, and I'm doing things I've never had experience with before. With it comes a lot less stability. I've gone from working 40 hours weeks, Monday-Friday every week, to maybe working 4 hours a week, and who knows when those will be because I'm generally fighting 200 other people for those precious few hours. I went from living paycheck to paycheck...to not being able to live until through the day I get paid.<br />
<br />
It's killing me for more than that reason. I don't like change as I have realized by making this transition. I don't like not knowing absolutely everything. I don't like not having technical things for me to learn about and master. I enjoy working with my hands and being able to tell you how things work. And right now I can't do that because I don't know how things work.<br />
<br />
More than that I feel absolutely judged every single day. My shirt isn't ironed and pressed. My nametag is slightly off center. My shoes have a slight amount of dirt on them that I haven't been able to wipe away in the 30 seconds since it happened. My nail polish that I spent $40 to have done is starting to crack after a week and I need to have it removed, but I spend 40 fucking dollars on it. Feel judged for wearing a slightly larger vest and shirt size than all the other girls and maybe I should stop eating to help me go down a size because none of them ever seem to eat more than half a salad on lunch breaks.<br />
<br />
And maybe some (or most) of it is in my head. But the pressure is getting to me after such a short period of time.<br />
<br />
But this job I'm in now is something that I've wanted since I was a little kid, when I was 11 years ago and met a VIP Tour Guide in line for Peter Pan. It's something that my parents wanted for me, and something that my mom has talked about nonstop since I started working for Disney. And now that I'm there, and I can't afford to make ends meet, my mom is nowhere to be seen because there's no way she can feasibly afford to help me out anymore. The fighting about money was bad enough when I was working 25-40 hour weeks, but now that I'm working 4 a week, I don't know how badly this is gonna destroy me.<br />
<br />
And I could go back. Could go back to the area I was in before, lose my extra $1.50 that came with my transferring. Get my full time back. Go to where I work with the same people every day that I love and that love me. But I can't get myself to do it. I'm too proud. I know I'm too proud. Because when I interviewed for this position and got it, I got nothing but praise, nothing but well wishes, nothing but people saying "you earned this" or "make us proud". And if I went back, I'd be coming back with my head hanging down low. I'd be coming back with my tail between my legs. This girl is coming back, and she's walking real slow. Just like when I went to Indy from Mansion, I could not give up my pride to go back to the place I had made my place with leaving. And now I can't go from my new role back to Indy.<br />
<br />
People may not judge me, but I would judge myself. And that could be a worse fate.<br />
<br />
As if work and money and family issues weren't enough, I'm also feeling more alone than ever.<br />
<br />
Do you ever feel like everyone in your life has someone except for you? Even if they don't actually have someone, they have the potential to have someone. I feel as if I have no potential. After my clean break (mutual for many reasons) break-up a few months ago, I was content being by myself. I had finally had someone who had treated me well and made me feel special. And when that was over, I knew that I deserved to be treated that way and I wasn't going to settle for anything less.<br />
<br />
But time has passed, and I see everyone in my life either dating people, getting married, having babies, or at the very least talking to people that they are interested in and probably are interested in them as well (this feels like high school), even my widowed mother has started dating again, and I'm here feeling like I'm nothing. I wake up alone, go to work, and come home with no one to share my experiences with. No one to go see a movie with. No one to hug when I'm feeling upset with life.<br />
<br />
And the sad thing is, is that I don't even know what I want. Part of me wants to go back to the past, try and make it work with guys that it hasn't worked out with for various reasons in the past. And then I realize that things that are in the past are in the past for a reason. They're dead and gone, and like zombies, it's never a good idea to bring them back from where they come from. But there's always that voice in my head that says "But we never had a chance... Maybe if we had the right timing things could work out..."<br />
<br />
And I can't get that to shut up.<br />
<br />
I just want some proof that I'm not going to be alone forever. I'm almost 23, and most people at my age aren't thinking about forever. But I grew up in a town where all my friends are now married or have babies or both. That's the norm there, and I can't turn off that part of my brain even though I moved 500 miles away and haven't lived in that Podunk town in 5 years. Not to mention all my friends out here are generally older than I am, and are indeed thinking about these types of things.<br />
<br />
I just want something real. And I don't want to force it happen. But nothing else seems to be working.<br />
<br />
This is always something that's on my mind, but with everything in my life going on, it just seems to be getting louder and louder and for some reason I can't get it to quiet down.<br />
<br />
Don't judge me.<br />
<br />
I just don't know what's wrong with me.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-41923502434613942232015-09-21T21:29:00.001-07:002015-09-21T21:29:13.779-07:00Once, AlwaysCan I tell you guys a story?<br />
<br />
4 years ago, in August of 2011, I moved myself 400 miles away from home to attend college in Southern California at Chapman University.<br />
<br />
Two weeks prior to moving, my father passed away.<br />
<br />
In that short span of time, I not only lost him, but moved far away from my remaining family. I was completely and utterly alone. Not to mention, I had transferred, therefore I did not have a solid group of acquaintances like anyone who came in with Freshmen Orientation had the benefit of having.<br />
<br />
To say that my first semester at Chapman was miserable would be an understatement.<br />
<br />
I had 2 friends, and after only a couple of months of school, I wasn't even friends with one of them. I drove myself home as often as I could, at least once a month if I could manage. But it became hard because I was also struggling to support myself. I had no job, no money, no family nearby, and what family I did have was struggling to pay off my father's medical bills and grappling with his lost income.<br />
<br />
By the end of my first semester, I was looking for school's to transfer to the following year. Again.<br />
<br />
I went home for Christmas and was able to spend 5 weeks there, constantly dreading having to move back to school and what would await me there.<br />
<br />
In late January of 2012, I moved myself back to SoCal, hoping that somehow this would be different. As soon as I arrived back, my roommate and only friend greeted me, and told me she wanted to go through recruitment to join a sorority. And my heart immediately fell because I knew what would happen. She would join a sorority and become so involved with her sisters that I would once again be left all alone. And so I decided to take a big step and go through recruitment with her.<br />
<br />
In the beginning, I was thinking of joining the same sorority that she wanted, Alpha Gamma Delta. The first few days of February, we went to Open House, where we had the chance to meet girls from the 3 sororities doing Spring recruitment. I trudged myself around to all the different tables, and gave each of them the chance. And then I walked up to the last table belonging to Phi Sigma Sigma.<br />
<br />
The girls at this table immediately greeted me with immense kindness. One of them made a comment about my Harry Potter shirt I was wearing and it was instantaneous love. We discussed Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Disneyland, and studying abroad, all things that I considered to be a major part of my existence. This girl worked at Disney. This one studied at University of Glasgow. That one wrote Harry Potter fan fiction on the same website I had when we were 12 years old. I spent over an hour talking to these girls and they practically had to pry me away from the table at the end of the event.<br />
<br />
After 6 months at Chapman, I finally felt like I knew where I had to be.<br />
<br />
And so I went through Recruitment, which involved going to several events over the next few weeks. Each time I got an invitation to all 3 houses, and each time I would go for just a few minutes to the other 2, only to come running back to Phi Sig with open arms. I love the girls there and they loved me.<br />
<br />
It was no surprise when I got my bid to join them. And I cried with happiness for a moment and then excitedly signed my bid and ran off to celebrate with them.<br />
<br />
Just a few days later, a group of us went to Disneyland together, and I felt so connected to these girls so soon. We ran around the theme parks, talking about our past and our future, likes and dislikes, and why we were happy to be where we were.<br />
<br />
Of course I got the negative comments. The idea that I paid for my friends, only to try and defend myself and tell the haters that joining this sisterhood only gave me the opportunity to meet 100 wonderful women that I otherwise probably have never crossed paths with. No one understood why little nerdy, quiet Chelsea would join this group of girls who was seen as only something that wore matching shirts and sang songs.<br />
<br />
But there's just so much more to it.<br />
<br />
While in your new member phase, they pair you with another girl that is like your Big Sister or Mother. Bigs and Littles. My big and I were an amazing match, and she brought me to her Big and Grandbig (therefore my Grandbig and Greatgrandbig)'s apartment. We all sat together doing homework and watching How I Met Your Mother and Doctor Who together. Other girls would come over and we would do the same thing. We would go to Disney together, hang out at school, go to the beach, all kinds of things. We were honestly a family.<br />
<br />
At the end of that semester I wound up moving into that apartment with my Grandbig and GreatGrandBig and it was the best living situation I could have ever imagined. We all went to school together and would sit together on the carpet of our apartment for hours on end talking to one another.<br />
<br />
At the beginning of the next semester, one year after I had moved out to Southern California, we did Fall Recruitment, where we had a new group of young girls join our sisterhood. They were a small class, but I guarantee you to this day I could still tell you all their names and my first impression of them all. Amongst them was my future Little (who then became my best friend and then my roommate). She and I were an amazing pair, and she felt the same way that I did about Phi Sig.<br />
<br />
It was like a family. For the people who really didn't feel like they belonged anywhere on campus.<br />
<br />
It was home.<br />
<br />
And our family has expanded. From the line above me to my little to my grandlittles, we are always a close knit bunch.<br />
<br />
It has been just about 4 years since I met Phi Sigma Sigma, and in that time, I have not only made some of my best friends for life, but have graduated with so much love and support, and have now been to 2 weddings for my sisters and I intend on attending many more.<br />
<br />
I graduated in 2014. But the sisterhood has never left.<br />
<br />
Amongst my group of friends in my small sisterhood, I have girl's that I know will be in my life forever. In fact, if I were to get married, almost every single one of my bridesmaids would be from my sorority. Frequently I still get together with these girls I spent so many sleepless nights with doing homework and singing and anything else you can think of. We have group text messages. We get together for Wine Nights. We go see movies together. Go on adventures to the fair or to the city.<br />
<br />
Currently I live with my little, who is still an active member of this sisterhood.<br />
<br />
And this is where the struggle comes.<br />
<br />
Because yesterday they made the announcement that they would be closing the doors to our chapter, and having them step peacefully off campus, never to accept a girl who feels like she doesn't belong on campus again. And it breaks my heart because I have a whole family who feels the same way about joining Phi Sig as I did. We poured our hearts souls into something that we cherished, welcoming girls who really didn't feel like they had ever belonged, and showed them that they had a home.<br />
<br />
I have a sisterhood of at least 300 girls that I have met through being a part of this sorority. And in the blink of an eye, they will be gone. And there's nothing that I can do about it. And that makes me so angry and frustrated.<br />
<br />
We have a saying in Phi Sig that goes something like this.<br />
<br />
"Once a Phi Sigma Sigma, always a Phi Sigma Sigma."<br />
<br />
It is a part of our creed, and we constantly say it to one another, whether graduated, disaffiliated, or just going through a rough patch. It means that no matter what, our sisterhood will always be together, and we will always stand up for one another.<br />
<br />
And now it just makes it even harder to say. Because yes, we will always have each other.<br />
<br />
But what about the girls that will never have us? Even if we were never the biggest chapter on campus, we always were a family, and there were always girls who grew into wonderful, successful, beautiful women because of this sisterhood. And now some of those girls will never know what it's like to have such an amazing support team. Those girls will never know what it's like to belong. To have a family made of those who are not just blood.<br />
<br />
They will never know what it's like to be a Phi Sigma Sigma.<br />
<br />
Not just once, but always.<br />
<br />
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<br />Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-12037608410184014272015-07-13T21:04:00.000-07:002015-07-13T21:04:08.210-07:00Givin' up on LoveI'm going to be completely upfront and honest with you all right now.<br />
<br />
My heart hurts. My heart hurts like it did when I was 15 years old and pining after a boy who was in love with my best friend.<br />
<br />
Except this time there is no boy.<br />
<br />
And I'm beginning to realize that maybe there never was.<br />
<br />
The past few years have been a weird revelation for me when it comes to love. At any given time, there has always been someone that I have been pining after. And, right now, with my last attempt at making something happen, I've pretty much just given up. I'm so incredibly tired of meeting someone, becoming connected to them in the closest way possible, and then having them cut me out of their life as if nothing mattered.<br />
<br />
I'm over it.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of being hurt by guys who coerce me to talk to them, to tell them everything, who tell me everything, hang out with them, talk to them constantly for days on end, having them tell me that they have feelings for me like they haven't had in a long time...only to have them stop talking to be without a reason why.<br />
<br />
It sucks.<br />
<br />
And I've said it several times before, and have always given in, but I'm going to say it again: I'm giving up on finding love.<br />
<br />
Now this isn't because I'm "heartbroken and don't think there's anyone worthy in this world" or anything like that.<br />
<br />
No. Rather this is more of a "I need to spend time focusing on other things--being in a relationship should no longer be my priority in life".<br />
<br />
I've had so many amazing opportunities recently. From working LA's Anime Expo, to finding a true passion for what I want to do as a job. There's a chance that I might achieve that goal soon, with just a little work. I'm simply trying to focus on making myself happier for me. Because I'm miserable at my job right now, and I need to get out. New job would so definitely help with that. There's a step.<br />
<br />
I'm also in the process of training Thor to be a full fledged service animal. My anxiety has gotten unbearable when I'm not around him, to the point where it's hard for me to go to the store without him. Having something like this would be helpful. Another step to personal happiness.<br />
<br />
The hardest part about "giving up on love" is the fact that I can't help but feel like I'm missing out on something right now. Most of my close friends are in healthy relationships, thriving, planning marriages, having babies. And I'm sitting here, struggling to meet someone who wants to talk to me for more than a couple weeks. However, I know it's the right thing to do. The last time I had a romantic confrontation with someone, it ended with me just not feeling anything at all.<br />
<br />
I'd rather hold out for someone that makes me feel everything, that I make feel everything, than someone who's as platonic as it gets.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-88095438336842570882015-06-19T21:37:00.001-07:002015-06-19T21:37:06.133-07:00Angry CalmI'm pissed.<br />
<br />
For so long I've been so good at controlling myself and my temper. Been so good at controlling my emotions.<br />
<br />
This time last year I was irrational, crazy for a love that didn't last and so utterly lost within my own personal black hole.<br />
<br />
There were times where I didn't think I was going to make it through the night. I thought that I would fall asleep and never wake up. And often times, I didn't sleep at all, laying in bed awake all night, mind racing and heart pounding.<br />
<br />
And slowly, but surely, I got it under control.<br />
<br />
Yes, medication helped. A lot. Also helped was my drive to change my mindset. I wanted to become a more positive person. Someone who had something to live for. Someone who put herself out there. Someone who wasn't terrified of life itself.<br />
<br />
And it happened. I became happier. When problems arose, instead of wondering what was so terribly wrong with me and why was the world against me, I became calm. I became better at understanding that sometimes life just happens, and there's nothing I can do to control it. And when my friends were in crisis, I became the calm voice to talk them through the situation. I cared for myself, and I cared for everyone.<br />
<br />
And I was calm.<br />
<br />
And I was happy.<br />
<br />
And I began to branch out from my shy personality. Began to talk to more people. Began to be somewhat spontaneous. Began to be nicer to everyone I encountered.<br />
<br />
And I can see how much my life has changed.<br />
<br />
I know that there are some things in life that just happen, and it doesn't make them right, but I completely understand that there is absolutely nothing I can do to control them.<br />
<br />
And that's all right.<br />
<br />
And I was calm.<br />
<br />
But then today I snapped.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of having people screw me over and taking the high road.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of people lying to me and I forgive them in my mind.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of people calling me shitty things and trying to do the right thing, only to get brought down again and maintaining a positive attitude.<br />
<br />
And more than anything I'm tired of people forcing themselves to be a wonderful, detrimental part of your life, pretending as if they care about you, and then disappearing off of the face of the earth without a word. And I'm tired of sighing heavily and moving on.<br />
<br />
For the first time in quite some time I am pissed.<br />
<br />
I can't handle it anymore. I can't handle people either lying to me or pretending that they care about me, doing it to get something from me or to get close to me, and then up and deciding that they don't want to be a part of my life anymore, knowing I'm attached. It keeps happening to me, and it makes me want to regress, makes me want to blame myself, makes me want to close up my heart again, and makes me want to undo all of my hard work over this past work.<br />
<br />
I'm pissed.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-87828733516367001442015-04-14T20:46:00.000-07:002015-04-14T20:46:09.872-07:00EnoughI've always said that all I ever wanted was to be good enough for someone.<br />
<br />
Every single man I have ever had a romantic relationship has always left me for something better.<br />
<br />
The first boy I ever went on a date with told me he liked my best friend.<br />
<br />
The first boy I ever dated left me a week in for another girl.<br />
<br />
The next one said he didn't want to wait, and got engaged to the next girl he met.<br />
<br />
After that, I said I had strong feelings and 2 weeks later he was in a relationship with someone else.<br />
<br />
Next came the relationship where I thought everything would change. He cheated on me once, tried several more times. Once a cheater, always a cheater so I have learned.<br />
<br />
After that it was fun, but he stopped so that he could be with another girl who's came up at an opportune moment.<br />
<br />
And finally, things were going really good. But apparently I wasn't enough to keep around with the stress of life.<br />
<br />
My whole life, I've never felt like I've been good enough for anyone. For my friends, for my family, and for the men I've been with. And I've tried so hard. People think that my rough exterior, RBF, and salty humor means that I'm an angry and mean soul. But in all honesty, I'm trying to keep myself from getting hurt, again.<br />
<br />
Because inevitably as soon as I start opening myself up to someone, show them who I am, give them a glimpse into my heart, they're gone by the time the sun comes up.<br />
<br />
I know I've mentioned this a million times on here...but what's wrong with me?<br />
<br />
What is it about me that makes me so hard to want to love?<br />
<br />
All I want in this world is to love. I'm looking for that missing piece to that puzzle. And, as a good friend put it, "I'm so desperate to love that I try to make everything fit into that piece, no matter it's size."<br />
<br />
What's so wrong with that?<br />
<br />
What's wrong with me?<br />
<br />
I'm not looking for much. Someone to laugh with me.<br />
<br />
Someone to hold me when all I need is human touch.<br />
<br />
Someone who will drink whisky and watch crappy movies with me.<br />
<br />
Someone who will sit and actually listen to me when I talk.<br />
<br />
Someone who wants me and only me with every fiber of their being.<br />
<br />
Someone who understands that I might be difficult at times, but I will do everything in my soul to make up for that.<br />
<br />
What's so wrong with that?<br />
<br />
When will I be good enough for someone? More than that, when will I just be ENOUGH for someone, and don't leave them wanting more?Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-6507013512599157022015-04-09T16:41:00.000-07:002015-04-09T16:41:21.690-07:00Have the Courage to Be KindThe last few weeks have been...tough...to say the very least.<br />
<br />
And I really don't know why.<br />
<br />
But everything just seems...different.<br />
<br />
I've been having a hard time when it comes to friends in my life, as you all very well know. I try to keep people on my good side, and keep myself on the good side of people, and when things go awry, I either am left confused as to what has happened...or I became angry enough to actually never want them in my life.<br />
<br />
It takes a lot for me to get to that point.<br />
<br />
So eager am I for friends and support and to not make enemies, that I constantly let people be rude and abuse me and call me terrible things, but still have them on my Facebook friends list. I will still talk to people who couldn't give two shits about me when it cones down to it. What's worse is I consider myself to be friends with people, who constantly surround themselves with people to talk poorly about me, and then said friend will protect them over me.<br />
<br />
And I wish I could say that all of these incidents are about one person.<br />
<br />
I wish I could, but this has been the story of all my friendships over my lifetime.<br />
<br />
And this just endlessly frustrates me and lately, I'm not taking it anymore.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of bullshit. I'm tired of people telling me that they're my friends, and then treating me like a piece of shit, calling me terrible things when I'm not around. I'm tired of people saying that I've been a crappy friend, when all I have tried to do is be kind and honest to them, in order to later spare them. I'm tired of having men say that they want me and need me, only to have them stop talking to me the moment something better comes along. I'm tired people lying to my face. I'm tired of having friends' friends call me names and terrible things, and my friends won't believe me when I try to tell them.<br />
<br />
More than anything I'm tired of feeling like I'm not worth anyone's time. Tired of me believing that when people call me a piece of shit, that I start actually feeling like it.<br />
<br />
And I'm tired of feeling desperate for being like this.<br />
<br />
A few days ago, I went to dinner with someone I've been friends with since we pretty much both started at Disney 3 years ago. The two of us used to be really close, but this was the first time in over a year, almost two, that we actually hung out outside of work. And during this dinner, I realized that I haven't necessarily been the best of friends ever either.<br />
<br />
I've hurt people.<br />
<br />
I've screwed good people over for personal gain.<br />
<br />
I've left people in terrible situations and have never looked back.<br />
<br />
I've chosen relationships, or even simple hook ups, over my own friends.<br />
<br />
I've bailed on plans by lying and saying that I was busy, but really didn't feel like seeing them.<br />
<br />
And I regret every single one of those things that I have done. But it's part of human nature to do some of these things.<br />
<br />
But never have I ever in my entire life pretended to be someone's friend when I honestly wasn't. I have never lied to someone's face when they confront me with an issue. I have never tried to turn friends against one another. And I have never shit talked another person that my friend is close to, and if one of my friends ever does, I call them out on it immediately. I never tell my friends that they are liars, and I do my best to tell them the honest truth, even if it hurts.<br />
<br />
And I don't understand why that's such a hard concept to understand.<br />
<br />
They say your twenties are when you really begin to see who your real friends are. But more than that, I think that your 20's are where you are supposed to learn how to be a real friend through the example of those around you.<br />
<br />
When I was younger, I may have done all those bad things to friends, but now that I am older, I could never dream of hurting another human being in the most innocent way possible. I will never take anyone's friendship for granted. I understand that you might not be everyone's best friend, but that doesn't have to mean that you're everyone else's enemy.<br />
<br />
Be kind to one another.<br />
<br />
And trust people when you know that they care for you. And care for people when you know that they trust you.<br />
<br />
And maybe this crappy world will be a little nicer.<br />
<br />Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-23522829084625164042015-03-14T22:45:00.000-07:002015-03-14T22:45:19.454-07:00[Blank]<br />
I'm really tired of being seen as a negative person. I think it might be an issue of having perpetual RBF (or as I call it, Resting Asian Face, RAF), but everyone seems to think that I'm negative, or scary, and doesn't want to talk to me.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm used to this. It's been a part of me my whole life, and probably the biggest reason I have problems making friends and influencing people. Now, completely honestly, it's mostly my shy personality. As a young child, I didn't socialize much. I think I had a total of 4 friends from Kindergarten till 8th grade, and never that many at the same time. It was hard for me. I spent all that time at recess reading books and writing Harry Potter fan fiction. And then when I went home, I would be alone, both of my parents working the overnight shift, and I would fend for myself with the internet or the endless VHS's and DVD's at my disposal.<br />
<br />
In high school, this changed a little bit thanks to being really active in theatre. People mistook my big personality whilst acting for me, and were more open to approaching me. They didn't understand that the real Chelsea was quite shy and internal. And once I quit theatre, I've had this constant problem.<br />
<br />
I'm stuck in my own head.<br />
<br />
And it takes me a long time to get to know people well enough for me to open up to them and to trust them enough to show my larger personality, my happier side. The side that I am down to the core.<br />
<br />
Because of my RAF, no one thinks I'm happy and nice. I get mistaken for rude or harsh all the time. And my sarcastic nature doesn't help this.<br />
<br />
And that's just been the way it was my whole life. And I've learned to accept that about myself.<br />
<br />
Until this past week.<br />
<br />
While training for my new position at work, I really couldn't have been training with someone more different than me. My training partner is one of the most open and nice and friendly people in the world. She's literally the face of Disney, always smiling, always talking to everyone and anyone, and absolutely everyone knows her and loves her. She's awesome.<br />
<br />
But it was hard, having worked with some of these people before myself. They would run up to her, smiling and hugging and happy, and look at me confused as to who I was...despite the fact that we had talked and worked several shifts together over the past couple of months. We got quite opposite reactions, and, for some reason, it was really hard to handle.<br />
<br />
It's not that I was jealous of her or anything, she's super friendly and deserves all of the attention. But, fuck man, it sure would be nice for people to recognize me, to look past my blank exterior and realize who I am.<br />
<br />
I've been in my old department for 3 years, and in that time have made so many amazing friends. So many, that I never really had a problem making new friends because I was already in the great mindset. People got past my RAF, and got to know the real Chelsea.<br />
<br />
And I guess the biggest reason why I'm struggling with this change is that I've haven't had to worry about having or making friends in 3 years. Since I started to get know people at work, I was set. It was so easy. And now, I know so few people. And I'm afraid of making friends with them. And I'm afraid that the friends I already had are going to forget about me too.<br />
<br />
And then what will I do?<br />
<br />
Am I meant to be all alone again?<br />
<br />
And how do I change my exterior so that people are more willing to approach me? How do I get people to see the nice person I already am? It just doesn't make sense to me.<br />
<br />
I'm told that I have a beautiful smile. And I always say that my smile has to be earned.<br />
<br />
But is my smile beautiful because I don't use it all the time so it's rarity makes it that much better? Or do people just genuinely enjoy my smile?<br />
<br />
I just don't understand and I wish that I did.<br />
<br />
It's frustrating and I'm tired of this following me around my whole life. I've never had good luck with friends, and worse luck with men, and everyone tells me I look sour. But I enjoy my life so much, and I'm really quite a happy and nice person. But everyone assumes or jokes that I'm just a bitch.<br />
<br />
And after a while, I begin to believe them.<br />
<br />
Maybe I am a sour bitch. Maybe I'm just mean and not funny or anything. Maybe this is why nobody likes me, and why it takes me such a long time and tremendous effort to make friends.<br />
<br />
Maybe I'm just not who I thought I was all these years.<br />
<br />
How do I change?<br />
<br />
How do I become the person who I believe myself to be? How do I show that to the world?<br />
<br />
How do I find the confidence to know I will never be alone the rest of my life because someone will always be there with me because they know and love who I am?<br />
<br />
How do I portray myself in a way that people will never forget who I am so easily?<br />
<br />
I want that.<br />
<br />
I need that.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-13618137114938180012015-03-10T21:28:00.000-07:002015-03-10T21:28:13.252-07:00An Open Letter For YouDear You,<br />
<br />
Here are some things that I want you to know about me.<br />
<br />
My name is Chelsea. I am recently 22 years old. Over my lifetime, I have fallen for you a total of seven times.<br />
<br />
The first time was in elementary school, and you were the boy who accidentally dyed his hair pink. Every girl had a crush on you.<br />
<br />
The next time was at my new junior high. Again, every girl had a crush on you, and I, an obese 12 year old with no sense of style, tried everything to get you to notice me.<br />
<br />
A few years later, after having lost 60 pounds and gained a sense of confidence, I fell for you again. We were great friends, and I thought it was going well, until the day you said you wanted to ask my best friend to formal. I was crushed.<br />
<br />
It was years before I fell for you again, this time in high school through a computer screen as we were separated by many miles. After having been so hurt in the past, I was desperate for attention. Desperate enough that I let you treat me like shit time and time again, and, worse than that, let you steal my heart for years.<br />
<br />
I was a junior in college the next time I fell for you. And yet again, I let my eager heart run away from my senses. I let you steal so much of me, and then you left me like it meant nothing, and like I was nothing. I hardened my heart, making it harder and harder to let people in.<br />
<br />
Then you came around again, and for once, it seemed like everything was wonderful. My heart felt light, and you promised to undo all the damage that had been caused in the past. And for the longest time, I believed you, believing that after all this struggle, all this hardship, I had finally met my golden light at the end of the tunnel. But things turned sour, as they always do, and it wasn't long before you were gone, ripping out my heart and turning that space into a black hole.<br />
<br />
I vowed never to fall for you again.<br />
<br />
I don't remember most of the time between our 6th and 7th encounter. It was a dark time, and most of it had been covered by shadows and demons. It took quite some time, but eventually, somehow, I emerged from the other side, with some duct tape covering the hole.<br />
<br />
And then you number seven came along, and it all started so easily. I didn't even have to try with you, you were kind and nice, and I even admitted that I hadn't felt so good in such a long time. I was careful with you this time, trying to not get too attached, trying to seem flippant, wanting to make you be the one to come to me. But somehow that managed to get the better of me. I fell for you, hard, and as soon as I admitted that to myself, you disappeared, despite all we had shared.<br />
<br />
I guess that's what I deserve for falling for you again.<br />
<br />
See, the thing is, I don't fall very often, but when I do, I fall hard. It's an endless hole, and I'm free falling, holding your hand, until--<br />
<br />
BOOM<br />
<br />
--I crash at the bottom, broken and useless, and you're up at the top of the hole, looking down, and then walking away.<br />
<br />
I wish there was a way to control it. It's not like I like falling with all that I have. The simple fact is that I tend to be an all or nothing person.<br />
<br />
Either I eat all the food I can, or I won't eat for days.<br />
<br />
Either I sleep 2 hours, or I sleep 15 hours.<br />
<br />
Either I don't watch any of a show, or I binge watch 10 seasons all at once.<br />
<br />
Either I'm super excited and pumped, or I'm feeling down.<br />
<br />
Either I'm really outgoing and am out every day, or I spend a week binge watching Netflix alone.<br />
<br />
Either I fall for no one, or I fall for you with all that I am.<br />
<br />
There's no other way to describe it. When I am dating someone, I can't be casual about it. Either we're not anything, or we're everything. When I fall for you, I can't do it halfway, I can't do it slowly.<br />
<br />
The thing is, I know exactly who I am, and I know exactly what I want.<br />
<br />
And for some reason, I want you.<br />
<br />
And I know that I don't need you. I'm an adult and have survived on my own for years on end, and am more than capable of taking care of myself. But, by god, if I don't WANT you. More than anything.<br />
<br />
I know that I want it all. I know that I want to feel loved, want to feel protected, want to feel needed, want to feel included, want to feel special. And more than anything, I want to feel like you feel the way about me as I do about you.<br />
<br />
I wish there was a better way to say it.<br />
<br />
I want you to want me.<br />
<br />
I wish I didn't have to keep repeating myself.<br />
<br />
I fell for you. And I fell for you hard.<br />
<br />
And someday, I hope you fall for me too.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-7462416238538819342015-02-20T21:35:00.000-08:002015-02-20T21:35:42.188-08:00500 Miles Next DoorHow do I start this off after almost two months without any communication?<br />
<br />
First of all, Happy 2015. Beautiful. There, off to a great start.<br />
<br />
In the past two months, life has kind of exploded.<br />
<br />
Starting off the new year, brought me into having my wisdom teeth removed. So a week off of work for that. Then exactly one week later, I flew off for a week in Walt Disney World.<br />
<br />
That trip was amazing. I honestly had the time of my life with my friends as we explored the other coast. It was my first adult trip and I'm glad to say, other than some mild frustrations, it went swimmingly. I almost did the inevitable and asked Disneyland to transfer me over to Disney World. And maybe I still will in the future. Who knows?!<br />
<br />
I came back and it was back to business. And by that I mean, back to every day normal work day in and day out. My roommates went back to school, and I found myself a hermit again, sitting in my room all day watching Netflix.<br />
<br />
And then changes started happening all at once. After a series of truly crappy days at work, I started looking at other jobs, and even looked into moving back to Arizona. I applied for Full Time, not expecting to get it. And then I found it...<br />
<br />
I have always said that the one class that I wanted to take in college while getting my Creative Writing degree was a class about writing for young adults. As most of you who've known me for quite some time have known, I love writing for anyone between the ages of 10-20. Those are my favorite books to read and consequently to write. But instead I was forced to read works by Tolstoy and Kafka and the other "greats" in the writing world. Important, yes, but not my cup of tea. So anyway, on a whim, I decided to look into the Master's Program at the school I wanted to study abroad at in Glasgow. I scrolled and found nothing until, ding, there it was: A Masters in Children's Literature and Literacy. With that degree, I could teach Creative Writing students exactly what I had wanted to learn all those years.<br />
<br />
Be the change you wish to see in the world.<br />
<br />
Ever since I found that page I have been dreaming of going to do that program. I am now in the works to get my passport so that I can start applying.<br />
<br />
And then the big thing happened. I got offered Full Time at Disney. And that makes me absolutely...confused. If I took the Full Time, I would be sacrificing a lot: My friends, my Mansion, my trainer status, and even the possibility of me becoming a lead. If I didn't take it, probably wouldn't be able to afford to stay in California. I took a leap and accepted the spot, but now I'm terribly terribly heartbroken to be saying goodbye to all that I love and the place that has literally become my home over the past three years.<br />
<br />
That's the thing that I don't think most people realize about me. Everyone keeps saying I made the right choice, I'm doing the right thing, I'll still be able to talk to my friends, and now I get benefits and it's great. But here's the thing: Everyone who has said this, doesn't know what it's like to be without a true home.<br />
<br />
It's been almost 4 years since I moved to California, leaving my family 500 miles away. In that 4 years, I've had a hard time connecting to anything. I moved into the dorms, had a shitty roommate who made me hate college, then switched dorms with a great roommate, but now the two of us never talk anymore. I then moved into an apartment with people I didn't know and for the first time, I felt like I belonged. It was a happy house, for some time. But when it came time to move out, all of our plans to stay together changed. And then, for the following year, I bounced around from apartment to apartment, never truly feeling at home at any of them. It's weird to walk into a place where your name is on the lease and feel like you're an invader in someone else's home. And then came this place, and while I've lived here longer than any other place, it still doesn't feel like home to me. It's too big, too empty, as I'm pretty much the only person home. I have little social life because parking is a nightmare so no one wants to come over and I'm afraid to leave because I might have to sleep in my car at CVS if there's no parking. It's hard, and I'm looking to fix it soon. Maybe another temporary tattoo of a fix though.<br />
<br />
So within those years, I started working at Disney, and started meeting some of my best friends in the entire world. I've had so many wonderful experiences in my time there, and have knocked out the entirety of my Disney bucket list. It's all from the area that I work in, where I have met all of my best friends, and the people that mean the most to me in the world. Yes, there is drama. Yes, there is heartache. But there's something so nice about going in to work and seeing all of your friends, who are essentially your only family. I spend holidays with them, work overnights with them, go to parties with them, and get through the hard times with them. And I wouldn't change a moment about it.<br />
<br />
And now that I'm moving to a different area that's right next door to my old one for Full Time, and I know I will still see them all, I can't help but feeling like I'm moving 500 miles away from my family all over again.<br />
<br />
So yes, I know I made the best decision for myself and my financial future...but I'm going to miss my family so much that I wonder if it's even worth it.<br />
<br />
Growing up is hard.<br />
<br />
I think everyone understands that struggle. I think everyone knows what it feels like to be alone at some point in their life. In that, I know that I am not alone.<br />
<br />
But I still can't help but feeling lonely at times.<br />
<br />
It's weird, but it feels like I'm home sick. Not the actual home sick where I miss my mom and friends in Arizona, although that is true, but I don't cry wanting to go back. I'm the kind of home sick where I miss the feeling of being wanted.<br />
<br />
It's strange. I thought that this feeling would leave with the holidays, but it has lingered on. I want someone in this world to want me, and want to spend every moment of every day with me. And yes, that is impractical, but I still yearn for that feeling of coming home to someone and feeling at home in their arms.<br />
<br />
I want a real family. I want a real life. Right now I feel like I am perpetually stuck in the life of a college kid, going to parties, getting drunk, struggling for rent, not looking for love...<br />
<br />
But in complete honesty, I feel so alone. People are going to berate me, saying that I don't need someone to make me happy, that I can live my own life without a man, blah blah blah.<br />
<br />
Yes, I know I am very capable of that. I've been doing it for years and years. I've been taking care of myself since I was 10. I got my first job at 16. Graduated high school with honors at 17. Went to college 500 miles away at just barely 18. I've been paying my own rent since I was 18 as well, my own phone bill since 17. I graduated college 2 months into being 21, and have a full time job starting on my 22nd birthday. I am a strong, independent woman and I know exactly what I am capable of.<br />
<br />
But I also know what makes me happy. I know that it isn't HAVING someone that makes me happy, it's making someone happy who makes me happy that makes me happiest. I say it all the time to people, but with me, you have to earn my smile. Yes, I smile a lot when I can, but to get a true and genuine Chelsea smile, one where I can feel my heart squeeze and know that yours is doing the same thing too, that takes real work.<br />
<br />
I want a home.<br />
<br />
I want a family.<br />
<br />
I want someone who wants me.I want to be enough for someone. I want someone who thanks the heavens every day that we are in each other's lives. I want someone who won't let me walk away. I want someone who won't walk away. I want someone who won't eventually get bored of me and leave me hanging. I want someone who wants someone like me. And I want someone who wants me to the do the same for them. I wish I had the power to make someone stay, to make someone realize that I am so worth the struggle it might be to be with me and takes it by the horns,<br />
<br />
Because honestly, I've never felt like I was enough for anyone, not my friends, not my family, not anyone I've ever dated. Never. In my whole life. I've felt nothing more than worthless.<br />
<br />
I want someone who can change that.<br />
<br />
And there's nothing wrong with that.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-44239547740058374882014-12-22T16:49:00.000-08:002014-12-22T16:49:20.877-08:00Kindred SpiritIt's been quite some time since we've spoken, hasn't it?<br />
<br />
Almost three months.<br />
<br />
When I last left you, my life was falling apart, everything going wrong. I can't honestly say that things themselves haven't been any different, however, I personally have been doing significantly better.<br />
<br />
First things first, I got myself help. I'd been seeing a psychologist for a few months, and nothing seemed to be working so I quit the medication. But after spending a sleepless night wishing my demise, I decided things needed to change. I went onto a new medicine. The change was almost instantaneous.<br />
<br />
The hard times still came, but I was able to smile and move past them, rather than having them ruin my day or life.<br />
<br />
I still got beat down, but I simply looked life straight in the eye and kept marching forward.<br />
<br />
This has been the past three months.<br />
<br />
Me, smiling, happy, trying to survive.<br />
<br />
Living. For the first time in my life, I feel like I've actually been living the past few months.<br />
<br />
I hung out with friends. Went out to parties. Made spontaneous decisions. Enjoyed all that I had and didn't have in life.<br />
<br />
Things have been tough, but I've been making a conscious effort to make the best out of everything that happened to me. I no longer see life as a personal attack, but rather a series of events that helps us determine who we are and who we will be.<br />
<br />
Chelsea is back. Better than ever. Moving on. Surviving.<br />
<br />
Work has been especially rough, and I foresee a lot of changes in the near future for me, hopefully all for the better. The holidays are especially tough for me, especially because Disney requires me to work through them all.<br />
<br />
Not that going home would be much better.<br />
<br />
As most of you know, my dad passed away in 2011. Ever since then, holidays haven't been the same in my family. That first Thanksgiving was painful, and I couldn't wait to get back to California after the four day weekend. Christmas was even more painful, a pitiful celebration that essentially ended with my entire family crying, hardly any gifts exchanged.<br />
<br />
I started working at Disney just a few months after that, a sort of relief because I dreaded future summers and holidays with my family.<br />
<br />
My first Christmas without my family was painful. I spent the day alone at home, until my shift started late at night. Both of my roommates at the time were out of town with their families for the holidays, so it was just me in that small, cold apartment. I went to Denny's with a friend for Christmas dinner, because they, too, had no family nearby.<br />
<br />
Last year, it seemed like the holidays were going to be wonderful. I had been adopted into the family of my significant other at the time and they brought me into their home, let me celebrate Thanksgiving with them, and let me decorate the Christmas tree with them.<br />
<br />
But, honestly, something was off. I was happy because I love Christmas, but there was a hole in my heart that I couldn't place. A feeling of not belonging, feeling like an intruder in someone else's happy life. I didn't know it at the time, but around that time last year is when I found myself slipping back into depression. At the end of the day on Christmas, my adopted family of the time looked at me and said "Aren't you happy? Isn't Christmas wonderful?" And I could only muster up a smile because somewhere 400 miles away, my mother was celebrating by herself, no doubt thinking about our broken family like I was.<br />
<br />
The holiday season this year snuck up on me. Christmas is this Thursday, something so remarkably incredible to me, because it seems like October was an hour ago, August was this morning, and June was yesterday. I went "home" to celebrate the holidays with my mom a week ago, kind of. A weekend where I saw her for a total of 10 hours on the last day I was there. It kind of felt like going down a line kissing babies. So mechanical, where I spent my time wishing I was anywhere else.<br />
<br />
And then I came home and I was alone. Very alone.<br />
<br />
I haven't seen any of my roommates in more than a few weeks, and it seems like I pay a quarter of the rent for an entire house. I spend the majority of my days at work, trying to get as many 12 hour shifts as I possibly can. Then I go home, walk my dog, fall asleep, and do it all over the next day.<br />
<br />
Too busy for friends. And my friends are too busy for me.<br />
<br />
The question I keep getting is what I want for Christmas. And each time, I answer the same thing: Nothing. And people tell me that that isn't an acceptable answer, so I give some other pithy suggestion. But the truth is, I really don't want anything. At least, nothing that can be provided as a gift.<br />
<br />
What do I want for Christmas?<br />
<br />
A lot of things.<br />
<br />
Peace of mind that I won't be drowning in debt forever.<br />
<br />
To be able to remember what exactly my family did together on our last Christmas as a whole, before Stage IV cancer tore us apart.<br />
<br />
To have a well behaved dog.<br />
<br />
To have someone I can always go to about my problems and won't turn their back on me, talk about me, or say they're too busy.<br />
<br />
Someone that makes me feel like I'll never be lonely again.<br />
<br />
Now don't get me wrong, I have a lot of wonderful friends that I would kill for and I'm sure they would do the same for me. I know that I am loved unconditionally by many of my friends, and I never have to worry about them leaving me in the dust. But there's a different kind of love that I've been searching for my entire life.<br />
<br />
A kindred spirit. Someone who is always there for me. Someone who I can say a word to, and will drop anything to come be with me. Someone to stay up late watching crappy movies on Netflix with. Someone who just gets me, and would kill for me. Someone who would do anything in their power to keep me in their lives.<br />
<br />
I want to never be alone on Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day, or my birthday ever again.<br />
<br />
I want someone excited to see me, and who wants to hear about my boring day.<br />
<br />
Someone who can hold me on my bad days. Someone who will get in the car and drive with me, when all I feel like doing is running away from life. And eventually we will turn back and go home because that feeling will pass, and we'll both feel more alive than we ever have been.<br />
<br />
I want a kindred spirit. Not a soul mate. Not a lover. Not a boyfriend. Not an anything.<br />
<br />
Just someone for me.<br />
<br />
That's what I want this Christmas.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-45536909465604337152014-09-30T00:57:00.004-07:002014-09-30T00:57:38.710-07:00SterlingHis name was Sterling.<br />
<br />
He was a chubby face little baby.<br />
<br />
He was sweet and kind. He smiled at everyone who he met, and look down abashed at the pretty ladies.<br />
<br />
He loved the color red, and loved his red blanket with a Mickey Mouse pattern more than life itself. He brought it with him everywhere.<br />
<br />
He was happy and he was so full of life.<br />
<br />
Sterling grew up and remained kind.<br />
<br />
He played well with the other children on the school yard. He demanded chivalry and always included the girls in on the fun. He was also brave and would climb to the top of the monkey bars quicker than any of his friends.<br />
<br />
His favorite movie was Star Wars (Episode VI).<br />
<br />
He loved reading books, adored Harry Potter.<br />
<br />
He dreamed of daring sword fights, casting spells, fighting the bad guys, and always coming out on top because of the goodness in his heart. He could do anything he set his heart to.<br />
<br />
Sterling loved the color red and he grew up known as the Little Red Boy (despite having light brown hair).<br />
<br />
His eyes shown with the vigor of life and attracted others to surround him. He never feared anything in life, not the time he went skydiving, nor the time he fell and broke his foot in three places and had to have surgery to repair it.<br />
<br />
Sterling fell in love for the first time at the age of 16, to a girl a little younger than him at his school. He dreamed about her night and day, but never once did he tell her how he felt. He was heartbroken by the time he turned 17 as the girl fell in love with an 18 year old.<br />
<br />
Sterling excelled at school, and graduated in the top 20 of his class. He wore honors cords as he walked across the stage at his high school graduation and shook hands with his principal. His parent's eyes gleamed with pride. He had been accepted to a prestigious university on a tremendous scholarship.<br />
<br />
Sterling was tall and strong, but his heart was kind and soft. When he moved away for school, he called his mom and dad every day, telling them how much he missed them, tears in his voice.<br />
<br />
But his vigor followed him, and soon he excelled at his university. His thirst for life made him irresistible to those around him.<br />
<br />
Sterling fell in love again at the age of 20, to a girl he had met in his British Literature class (he had hoped they would read Harry Potter and was upset to have to read Sir Gawain and the Green Knight). He fell in love with this girl and she was so full of life after meeting him that she fell in love with him.<br />
<br />
Sterling grew up, and graduated well in his class. His internship that he went to daily, dutifully, and unpaid for 2 years had turned into a career. He took every opportunity given to him, and found himself successful at every turn. Even when Sterling wasn't successful, he considered himself to be just from the experience.<br />
<br />
When Sterling was 24 he married the girl he fell in love with in his British Literature class (she had gone on to pursue Shakespearean studies). By age 27, he was a father, and he was widely considered the best father for miles around.<br />
<br />
His parents beamed on proudly watching their Little Red Boy holding his own little boy in a red blanket with Mickey Mouse on it. They could not have been happier for this blessing that had come into their lives 27 years earlier.<br />
<br />
Today should have been his birth day.<br />
<br />
Today should have been the day that he was born, and enabled him to live this full life for the next 27 years.<br />
<br />
However, today never came for Sterling.<br />
<br />
His parent's were young and unprepared. His mother was sick and went to the doctor, took home antibiotics, not knowing she had Sterling with her. It wasn't until it was too late that his mother realized that it was a bundle of nerves that she lost, nothing yet formed, not even enough to be confirmed.<br />
<br />
But a mother knows.<br />
<br />
On the day she lost Sterling, she cried, opened a calendar and marked down 9 months from that date, then took out her red blanket with the Mickey Mouse pattern, and laid down to rest.<br />
<br />
Sterling would never live to see the day that his son took his first breath.<br />
<br />
Sterling would never live to see the day where his own heart pumped for the first time, filling his body with undeniable life.<br />
<br />
Sterling would have been so full of life.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-35010035329130200332014-09-25T13:31:00.000-07:002014-09-25T13:38:45.948-07:00Back to the Streets Where We BelongI know what you're all thinking.<br />
<br />
Another sad post by Chelsea.<br />
<br />
Here we go again.<br />
<br />
But here's all that I have to say in a nutshell: I'm tired of being unhappy.<br />
<br />
Like, really, really, tired of being this way.<br />
<br />
And I've been getting a lot of shit for it lately too.<br />
<br />
Now I know what some of you are thinking: Why the hell would someone be giving you shit for having depression?<br />
<br />
You know, that's a great question.<br />
<br />
People tend to think that I have a lot more control over what I say, what I do, and how I feel than I actually do. That's the thing about depression, as well as most other diseases, is that the person that is afflicted has essentially no control over what happens to them. They're forced to live in this body that is killing them from the inside out.<br />
<br />
And frankly I'm tired of it.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of not wanting to kill myself but not wanting to be alive.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of being negative.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of feeling like the world is completely against me.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of wishing that people would stay or come back into my life.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of feeling that people are always leaving me.<br />
<br />
I miss the old me. The old, funny, happy, didn't matter what people did because it's not my problem anyway me.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking about it a lot lately. It seems that most of my unhappiness stems from the fact that I love people more than they will ever love me--always, as well as the fact that people are constantly leaving.<br />
<br />
The more I think about it, the more I guess I realize that there are people in this world who are meant to love more than those around them.<br />
<br />
I realize that there are people who when they say the words "I will always be here for you", that they actually mean it.<br />
<br />
And I happen to be one of those people.<br />
<br />
And part of me thinks that I should change. That I should close off my heart like I said I would a million times before. That I should stop growing connections to those around me.<br />
<br />
But then I realize that I can't. No matter what I say or do, I'm always going to be the one that loves more. I'm always going to be the one left behind when others leave me.<br />
<br />
So what I'm going to do is accept that. I'm going to accept that if I love someone, they will eventually leave me behind. That's the way that the world works. And I suppose I'm going to have to be okay with that. I will always love more and they will always leave me and that's just the way it is.<br />
<br />
And I need to accept that about myself and about the world around me.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to make a vow to be happier, in whatever way I can.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-50203022040400286232014-09-21T22:08:00.000-07:002014-09-21T22:24:44.314-07:00Witch, Witch, You're a BitchIt was the first day of junior high.<br />
<br />
She was dressed in her finest, wearing her only non-screen printed t-shirt and her best fitting pair of jeans. Her hair was in a high pony tail. She was conscious, but she was confident.<br />
<br />
It was the first day of junior high and up until that point she had gone to a private school. Up until that point, she had never had more than 14 other kids in her class. And now she had 7 classes of 30 students.<br />
<br />
It was the first day of junior high and she was nervous.<br />
<br />
It had started off wonderfully. First period math where she only had a little bit of trouble. Second period PE, where she felt glad the teachers hadn't made them change in front of everyone else (maybe she was actually more conscious then confident). Third period was Geography where the teacher was sweet. Fourth period was science where there were three other girls with her name in the class but she met a nice girl that she sat next to. Fifth period was theatre where the teacher was quirky. And sixth period was English where she felt the most confident.<br />
<br />
It was the second day of junior high and she was ready.<br />
<br />
But first period she forgot her ID and was forced to sit in on in-class detention.<br />
<br />
Second period they made everyone change out, and a girl twice her height called her a "fat ass" to four other girls at the end of the rows of lockers.<br />
<br />
She cried in the back of the classroom throughout most of third period because of what that girl had said.<br />
<br />
But her parents hadn't loaded money onto her lunch account, so she sat hungry through fourth period.<br />
<br />
In fifth period, she brightened up.<br />
<br />
But in sixth period, when she was able to answer every single question that the teacher asked, the girl who had called her a fat ass during gym cornered her outside the classroom. "You're a bitch," she said. And walked away.<br />
<br />
She had never heard anyone being called that word before. Sure, she had done her fair share of cussing in her day, from saying the word "crap" on the swing set of her private school, to calling a donkey an "ass". But she had never, ever thought that anyone said the word "bitch" to people.<br />
<br />
Was she a bitch?<br />
<br />
It was the first day of eighth grade. She had lost 40 pounds since that girl called her a fat ass in second period gym. She remembered her ID every single day. She had learned not to be so cocky in classes where she excelled. And she had learned to stick up for herself.<br />
<br />
She was called a bitch, though. Time after time after time.<br />
<br />
She was a bitch because she was smart.<br />
<br />
She was a bitch because she knew the answers.<br />
<br />
She was a bitch because she was nice and tried to help those in need.<br />
<br />
She was a bitch because she wouldn't take no for an answer.<br />
<br />
She was a bitch because she had gotten so used to being called a bitch, that she began to believe it herself.<br />
<br />
The word followed her around for years to come.<br />
<br />
As a high school senior, she was a bitch for telling her best friend's parents that their daughter wanted to kill herself. She just hadn't wanted to see her die, so instead she lost a friend because she had been such a bitch.<br />
<br />
As a college sophomore she was a bitch because two of her friends had broken up, and she only talked to him, mostly because the she-side of the relationship didn't want to discuss it. But she was a bitch for talking to the friend she had known less time, and so she lost the long-term friend. She eventually lost the other one as well.<br />
<br />
As a college junior, she was a bitch because she asked the boy she was seeing to be in a relationship, but apparently he wanted nothing to do with it. She was also a bitch for deciding to spend more time for herself to work a job she loved than mindless social interaction at school. And so she not only lost him, but lost a good deal of her friends as well.<br />
<br />
As a post-grad she was a bitch because she refused to be nice to people who had treated her so cruelly.<br />
<br />
She was the bitch in this case.<br />
<br />
She was always the bitch.<br />
<br />
And even though she had never wanted to do anything wrong, it seemed as if she were always the one paying the price. She was always the bitch, no matter how much she cared, she was always the bitch for caring too much or knowing too much.<br />
<br />
It was in this way that she lost so many of her friends.<br />
<br />
Ever since that second day of junior high, she had always envied those who had been able to make friends so easily. She would try and try and try, but it seemed as if no one wanted much to do with her. And even the friends that she did make wouldn't invite her out for any type of social interaction. The older she got, the more she saw her friends going on vacations together, going to Vegas together, going to the mall together, going to dinner together...always, ALWAYS without her.<br />
<br />
Not only did she envy those who could make friends, real friends, so easily, but she also envied those who could keep those friends. In the span of 9 years between the first day of junior high and the last day of her senior year of college, she did not have any of the same friends for more than 3 of those years.<br />
<br />
It was because she was the bitch. She was always the bitch, no matter what she tried to do.<br />
<br />
I've never wanted anything more than to be somebody's friend, anybody's friend. But no matter what I do, those words from the second day of junior high seem to haunt me. Like from a song "witch, witch, you're a bitch".<br />
<br />
I feel as if I've gotten so accustomed to hearing those words told to me, that I've started to take on that type of personality. I've proclaimed to be proud of my bitchiness. I live for it. But in reality, that isn't who I actually am. And I hate having to pretend as if it were. In reality, all I want to do is love and care about the people around me. And yeah, maybe I'm a hardass and refuse to take no for an answer, refuse to let people who have hurt me back into my life, but how does that make me a bitch?<br />
<br />
Somehow, I've decided that I've heard it said so much, that I've decided to become it.<br />
<br />
I am a fat ass.<br />
<br />
And I am a bitch.<br />
<br />
And that's how everyone I know sees me. As this bitch of a thing that I know that I am not. And so everyone will whisper under their breath, no matter what it is I do, and say "Gosh, what a bitch." And that's what I am, because no one will see me as anything else. Not even my friends or the people who love me after some time. They all see me as the same thing in the end.<br />
<br />
And no matter how much weight I lose, no matter how nice I try to be, no matter how much a I care about people, and no matter how hard I try...that is what I will always be. And in the end, people will always leave me because I am the bitch that cared.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651707771844420770.post-12377394065936596662014-09-19T01:00:00.000-07:002014-09-19T01:00:47.872-07:00Fall in Love with the Colors of MeStick with me here.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing.<br />
<br />
Everyone keeps coming to me to provide love and support.<br />
<br />
To which I truly appreciate. Granted, however, I have not given in and I have not talked my issues out with anyone. Admittedly though, no one has forced me into a closed room and forced me to talk. Or let me cry to them. Or simply sit and watch a movie with me.<br />
<br />
There's been support. Ish.<br />
<br />
The big thing I keep hearing though is, "Chelsea, stick it out. I know it's hard. We all go through tough periods of our life. But soon you'll be back to your old self again."<br />
<br />
People seem to have this idea that this "recent" depression has made me forget who I am. Maybe even made me lose who I am.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing though: This is who I always have been. I have changed over the years, however, the true core of me has not. You all are just seeing the different colors shining through.<br />
<br />
But this color has always been here. This depression goes back 7 years, but before I never used to be so open about it. This idea of me wanting to kill myself is not new: I've probably only had about 100 or so days of the past 7 years (which is well over 2000 days, mind you) where I haven't had this thought cross my mind. Even at my happiest. And it's not like I actually want to kill myself. It's that I just don't want to be alive. To me, there is a difference.<br />
<br />
But what I'm trying to say is that I am who I always have been. Still to this day. I think the big problem is that most of you, now clouded by this new color of me, have forgotten who I am instead.<br />
<br />
So I'm going to do something kind of strange. I'm going to survey myself, and remind you all who I am behind this specific color. I'm still the Chelsea that you all fell in love with. And I still love me.<br />
<br />
<b>What is your name?</b><br />
Chelsea Cr--- (bleeped for personal security...this part of me hasn't changed)<br />
<br />
<b>What do you wish your name was? Why?</b><br />
Summer. This was supposed to be my name if you go back in the way way back machine, pre-me. However, my parents had second thoughts. But that didn't stop me from wishing it were my name. I used it as my stage name for 4 years of theatre when there were too many other Chelsea's in my class. And if I ever make it big as a writer and decide to use a penname, it's going to be Summer Earl (you heard it here first). I just think it's a pretty name and something that just...fits me in a way that Chelsea doesn't.<br />
<br />
<b>What's the most beautiful thing you've ever experienced?</b><br />
The sunset in Arizona. It's weird to explain, but it happens slow. Real slow. The sun starts going down to the horizon and the Western sky starts burning yellow. The whole sky turns this bright, bright yellow. And then it starts morphing, layers added on. Turning pink, then red, then purple. And finally the sky goes dark blue. It's a million different colors all at once and if you ever see it in it's true glory, you will probably shit your pants. The best part comes next though. When the sky goes dark, and if you're in the right place in the desert, you can look up and see all the stars. And you can literally get lost because it seems like a kaleidoscope in the sky.<br />
<br />
<b>When were you most at peace?</b><br />
There are two times that stick out in particular.<br />
The first was April of last year, and sneaking out to the beach in the middle of the night. It was freezing cold and I had sand up my ass, but literally just sitting in the pitch dark, listening to the waves crash upon the shore in the distance was the most peaceful moment I've ever had. I crave going back to that.<br />
The other is a generalized statement. It sounds cliche, but you know that place that's between awake and sleep? When you're fighting with all your might to stay awake, but it's dark and you're comfortable in bed and in love, and you lose that battle. That moment right before I lose is probably the most peaceful feeling I know.<br />
<br />
<b>What's your favorite color?</b><br />
Purple. But not the regular purple. It's a purple so dark and light at the same time that it's almost gray. Not lavender. Not fuschia. But purple-gray. It's a wonderful sight.<br />
<br />
<b>Favorite flower?</b><br />
I divide this into categories:<br />
Spring-Tulips<br />
Fall-Sunflowers<br />
Mmmmmm :)<br />
<br />
<b>Favorite song?</b><br />
Again, categories.<br />
Song from a musical: Breathe, In the Heights<br />
Song from a band: Blackbird, Beatles<br />
Song from a music score: Flying, James Newton<br />
<br />
<b>Favorite movie?</b><br />
Categories are<br />
Series (that isn't based on a book): Back to the Future<br />
Film within a series: Star Wars, Episode V<br />
Disney: Hercules<br />
Fairy tale base: Ever After<br />
Movie movie: Princess Bride<br />
<br />
<b>Favorite book?</b><br />
Series: Harry Potter<br />
Classic: Pride and Prejudice<br />
Modern: Before I Die<br />
<br />
<b>Favorite musical?</b><br />
Classic: My Fair Lady<br />
Modern: In the Heights<br />
<br />
<b>What would you name your kids?</b><br />
Boy: Sterling (I've always tried to name my book characters this, but it's never quite right)<br />
Girl: Gemma (Admittedly, only if she were born a ginger cuz how cute is that?)<br />
I'd have to give the name "Earl" to one of the boys as a middle name considering it's a family thing and I have to obey the law. But yeah, I really like Sterling and Gemma.<br />
<br />
<b>If you could relive any moment of your life, what would it be?</b><br />
I wish I could relive the day before my dad died. August 8, 2011. Give him a better hug, consult my feelings more. But mostly to have those extra few hours with him again. He was supposed to have so much more time.<br />
<br />
<b>If you could live in any other decade?</b><br />
Probably the 1980's for the pop culture, the 1940's for the clothing, and the 1890's for the society.<br />
<br />
<b>What's your biggest fear?</b><br />
Being alone.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>What's your greatest dream?</b><br />
To be happy, no matter what.<br />
<br />
<b>Favorite holiday?</b><br />
Christmas when it feels like Christmas. I haven't had a real Christmas in 4 years it seems.<br />
<br />
<b>Favorite smell?</b><br />
It's weird, but if you light a piece of paper on fire, let it burn, and then water it out. The smell that comes from that is one of the greatest things on earth. If I could bottle that, I would.<br />
<br />
All of these things, with the exception of some recent memories, have been who I am for the past who knows how many years of my life. I haven't forgotten who I am. I'm still me. I'm still Chelsea Marie. If it seems like you're the ones who've forgotten who I am, please reread this. Remind yourself that I'm still here.<br />
<br />
I might be crying out for help, but it's still the same old me.<br />
<br />
Don't lost me in the hue of this other color of me.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18177873122611542764noreply@blogger.com0