Good hair day. #topknot #braid #blonde #hair #hairstyle
Good hair day. #topknot #braid #blonde #hair #hairstyle
8/20 Harry and the mic stand. 😭
Aries: so upset they punched the wall and broke it
Taurus: eating ice-cream and remembering the good old times
Gemini: doesn’t care
Cancer: blaming themselves
Leo: on twitter expressing their dissapointment
Virgo: having a mental breakdown in the middle of a supermarket
Libra: screaming at…
Get ready for some self indulgent whining!
My job is broken down into two organizations. The first is a fashion label, where I am surrounded by beauty and creativity; the second is a non-profit, where I am reminded that beauty and creativity are a product of my environment, an ideal I struggle for and that’s really quite laughable when you really think about it.
As a white, university-educated woman in Canada, there are endless advantages I have no right to, other than the fact I was born into them. Luck is all that separates me from the people our non-profit helps in regions like Cameroon and South Sudan.
But depression doesn’t care and I still feel like a victim. And that just makes it worse. I am not the most clever or the life of the party. I often doubt anyone is listening and that makes me say stupid shit I immediately regret. I feel like a background character in my own story and the fact it upsets me reminds me I don’t deserve to be the lead. I am mean and abrasive and full of opinions about music and art and literature and every one of them makes me feel like an asshole.
I have suffered injustice and abuse, but don’t think I’ve earned my sadness or the desire for it to be over. I pursue creativity and beauty because they make me feel split seconds of happiness. I may be the background of the world or maybe I am the audience. Who would there be to listen if I wasn’t sitting in front of the stage?
fuck the holidays
It’s only fitting that my mum would be hospitalized today. Exactly a year ago, she hugged me after I crossed the stage and received my university degree. She cried. I’ve cried a lot since then.
I had been given my depression diagnosis three months prior and I had started to feel normal again. I was happy that day. My partner took the morning off work and my family had flown in to see me grab hold of the too-expensive piece of paper currently gathering dust on my bookshelf.
I wasn’t going to go to graduation, but the ceremony was quick and almost touching. It was for them, my mum, dad and brother, that I did it. They had supported me for four and half years, and I don’t just mean financially. University was hard. The year after was harder.
I’ve spent six of the last 12 months unemployed and coming to terms with my mediocrity. As shallow and vain and painfully millennial as my aspirations of notoriety were, I had been told from a young age that I would do things, go places. And for a while I did. I peaked at 20. Then the uncertainty came, the self doubt, the diagnosis.
In the year since I graduated, I have been fired twice - the first on Christmas Eve last year was no unexpected, but devastating in its delivery. The second was a welcome release. I had endured months of harassment from my superior; I came to believe her when she said I wasn’t smart. I have had more debts than assets, and I’ve been hungry with no food in the house and a negative amount in my bank account. I’ve lost what I was passionate about, I have lost the creativity that fuelled me and the ambition that went along with it.
I don’t know if I am stronger for having struggled. I really fucking hope so. My new job has been wonderful. I don’t know if I am happy.
As for my mother, she was treated and released tonight. Her blood pressure shot through the roof and she collapsed at my brother’s house. She has an appointment with a specialist next week.
I hope the painful memories only flex their power over you a little of the time/ we held on to hope of better days coming/ and when we did we were right
“Comedy is acting out optimism.”
- Robin Williams (July 21, 1951 - August 11, 2014)
RIP Robin Williams, thanks for the laughs and comfort when I really needed it. Your amazing legacy in film and comedy will live on forever as long as people can laugh. My heart, thoughts and prayers go out to the Williams family and anyone else who needs a little support.
Robin Williams was a great actor, to be sure. And I’m sure he, as a person, would prefer to be remembered as someone who made people laugh. Genuinely laugh to tears and choke on popcorn. He was a wonderful artist and the top of his craft.
And he killed himself.That pisses me off.
Not because he did it. Not because Williams had “no reason” to be sad, which is something that popped up in my feed. People have a right to be sad. But depression is not just sadness. It is a creeping nagging asshole that lives with you and doesn’t pay rent and I’m pissed off because it had no right to take Robin WIlliams.
Depression has taken too much of my time and energy and happiness and strength. And it just took a childhood hero.
Saying that Mr. Williams “lost his battle with depression” is an insult not only to the comedian but to all of us who live with this disease.
I hope he’s happy. I hope he’s at peace. And I hope people are pissed off.
On Monday, George R.R. Martin, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, and director Alex Graves all weighed in on Sunday night’s Game Of Thrones, in which fan-favorite character Jaime Lannister raped his sister Cersei. The story element, which doesn’t appear in the books the show is based on, took fans by surprise,
This should not be okaaaaaaay
And sometimes when you’re on, you’re really fucking on and your friends they sing along and they love you. But the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap. But you’ll fight and you’ll make it through, you’ll fake it if you have to and you’ll show up for work with a smile. You’ll be better, you’ll be smarter, and more grown up and a better daughter
or son and a real good friend.
You’ll be awake and you’ll be alert, you’ll be positive though it hurts and you’ll laugh and embrace all your friends.
You’ll be a real good listener.
You’ll be honest, you’ll be brave.
You’ll be handsome, you’ll be beautiful.
You’ll be happy.
Oh that’s some good harmony.
It starts when you’re 14 and get your first job in a restaurant. Your boss becomes a second father. Sometimes you cut school to go work, not because you need the money, you do, but it also makes you happy when regulars smile and hug you and tell you how special you are, and there’s no way that’s how old you are. You’re so mature. You’re going to go places.
You work at the restaurant until you leave for university four provinces away. But the next summer you come back and are serving coffee again because you have somewhere to belong to and everyone knows your name.
When you leave again, you find somewhere else to be a part of–the student newspaper. You find the friends you wish you had years ago. You work for free and then they pay you and then the give you a title. And business cards. You’re twenty years old and you have a thousand business cards to do with as you please.
You intern and they must like you, too, because they give you some money you weren’t expecting when it’s September and you go back to school.
You work at the newspaper and take classes and fall in love for the first time. Your grades are good. You have never been so happy.
The newspaper contract end and you work retail and get another job in a restaurant, but the owner asks you if you sleep around and so you quit something for the first time in your life. You have one year left and live off student loans and whatever your parents can spare.
They help a lot, your parents. More than they should. More than you deserve. Because what do you deserve? You start to realize that maybe the world owes you nothing and you just need to work harder.
You graduate with good grades and it takes you two months to find a job at a startup that you don’t really care about run by a boy two years younger than you. You put your head down and do your work but it’s not enough. You get fired on Christmas Eve, in the middle of family dinner. You leave the house and go for a walk in the snow and everyone is mad because they have to wait to open their presents.
You leverage every connection you have, which isn’t many to start with. Every Friday you don’t get a job offer or an interview for the next week is a shadow over the next two days. Monday is your favourite day because it could happen.
And then it doesn’t.
You go on interview after interview after interview after interview after interview and start to wonder what you’re doing wrong. Because you have to be doing something wrong. It’s your fault.
What are you doing wrong?
You start a garden on your balcony and baking bread and knitting and never want to leave the apartment. All you ever talk about is being unemployed in Vancouver and how it’s the same everywhere right now, but your rent is higher. You wonder how people can stand to be around you, so you don’t.
You remember how you wanted to be out of debt by your birthday and that’s in three days and you have a hundred dollars to your name. And you are drained. Financially, mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. And it gets harder and harder to keep trying, to wait for that opportunity. But what else can you do? You keep trying.
I offer myself to the will of the universe and in service of those around me.
I was reading the Torah portion this week and it was of course the same Torah portion that occurs each year at this time and I’ve read it I don’t know how many times but I never ask myself the question. It’s the part where Jacob wrestles with an angel, and as he wrestles with the angel when the dawn is about to break he says, “I won’t let you go until you bless…until you bless me.” And the angel says to him, “No longer will your name be Jacob but from now your name will be Israel because you have fought with human beings and with angels and survived.” Now I’ve read that story a lot of times but only this week did it occur to me that he doesn’t bless him!
He doesn’t say, “May you have children, may you have wealth, may you be healthy, may you be happy,” and yet Jacob lets him go! So I knew as is inevitably the case for a good question there must be some answer that speaks to us, to our hearts, to our souls, that means something, why does Jacob let the angel go?
And I realized that for Jacob there must have been a blessing in that, and there was and there is for us. What the angel gave Jacob was the blessing of self-transformation. You don’t have to be Jacob anymore. You’ve struggled. And now you can change.
It doesn’t mean that bits of Jacob won’t cling to you, they will throughout your life, but they are now subsumed into something greater…and he gave him, in fact, the most important blessing–the blessing from which all other blessings flow–which is he gave him the blessing of transforming his soul into something better, something more beautiful, something closer to God, something closer to what he was meant to be…
I just finished Emma Forrest’s Your Voice in My head and I cannot recommend it enough to anyone dealing with mental illness. Everyone should read it, really. I have never found a writer who so perfectly captures the absurdity of mania and depression. Her humor is perfect. She finds a way to describe the static sling of mental illness, how it seeps into the core of who you are, without being trite or melodramatic – no small feat for someone trying to write about depression, let me tell you.
Towards the end of the book, Forrest uses a Jane Eyre allusion that I have fallen in love with: “I have lived in the house. I have lived in the attic.” Any first year English student should be able to tell you what that means, but I can’t get over the sound of it. Now where should I get it tattooed?