Hey, world. I know there's a certain expectation of me as a female human being, a standard of conduct for the way I should act, like, not walking around punching people in the face for example, or you know, the way you're supposed to divert eye contact when someone catches you looking at the weird mole on their neck. That stuff, general politeness.
That stuff, I've got down. I swear.
It's the pretending that I care about literally anything else in the world other than getting back to the place IN the world where my head, heart, and body are in the same place and in harmony, that's getting old. Really.
Alright, so, what would that require you ask?
A plane ticket for one, and funds to provide a sustainable place to live and a strategy that would legally keep me able to live and work and travel and just BE with the person I love.
Don't get me wrong I'm working!- but it always seems like too little too late and altogether not enough effort for impact. And because of that sometimes I do what we in the mental health biz call... spiral.
But why can't you just meditate your way out of it?
First of all, NAMA-STFU. I meditate. It does help my mental state and focus levels quite a lot actually but typically, it only works after a tough yoga session for me. There's something about getting the anxiety out of my body first, that then gives me access to putting my mind at ease.
I've struggled with mental health since I was a teenager and at one point I was so depressed and numb I really didn't want to live anymore, truly. It seemed like each new day was met with another terrible thing, another struggle, and more heartbreak. I was tired and hurting and I just wanted some relief.
My parents were going through an awful divorce that tore my brother's and my hearts to shreds. I tried to keep everything together in any way my teenage brain could. I didn't smoke, didn't drink or party, never brought up wanting to go to college although I really wanted to study film.
I just stayed out of the way and left the house whenever I could- trying to find a place where I could exhale, and relax. Usually just shooting the shit with my friends. At least there I knew I could always make my friends laugh, which made me happy and gave me some mental and emotional escape until it was time to go back home.
I'll never forget one day when I was riding the bus, hood up over my head so no one could see the tear streaks on my cheeks, keeping to myself and blasting smashing pumpkins on my disc man in the very back row. My mom and I had had an awful knock down drag out fight that morning and all I wanted to do was disappear, not knowing how I was going to make it through the day of social interactions, gym class awkwardness, and MATH.
Also. Fuck math man.
A friend of mine noticed I was by myself. She came to the back of the bus, sat next to me and said "Dayle, what's wrong? You're not being funny today and we're bored!"
And that's when it started to become clear to me. The first of many reinforcements to the hypothesis that stated, "Dayle, people will only value you, if you're bringing something to the table that they want."
So I became the shoulder for both of my parent's to shit talk about the other on, the one woman Saturday Night Live show for my friends, and the worker who would show up with a 103 fever on her birthday because the boss felt like golfing (true story).
LOL pathetic right? It's interesting the way we subconsciously adapt.
The problem is that the skills I adopted as a means to survival left me with little to no room to take care of myself physically, mentally or emotionally. Sprinting at breakneck speeds pleasing everyone and anyone, putting out fires all over town while my house was burning to the ground. And soon, all I was left with was ash.
BOO HOO woe is Dayle, right? Wrong. The thing about fighting to survive a dysfunctional family, a less than forgiving mental health state, and just generally having a pretty tough go at it physically and financially in my early years is just that, I learned how to fight.
Let's put this in dog terms because everything is better in dog terms. The following is a quote from pets4homes.co.uk (wowwww with that domain thooo!)
Sometimes, being the runt of the litter comes accompanied by a rather frail disposition and potentially, a greater risk of health problems, but this is not always the case. The runt puppy usually grows up to be a very loving dog, which bonds strongly with its owners as it will have had that much more chance to benefit from one to one human care when it was very little. However, it would be a mistake to think that the runt will automatically be a quiet, shy submissive puppy- the runt has to struggle to survive, feed enough and get everything they need, which ultimately will produce a plucky, brave puppy who is no stranger to fighting to get their needs met!
So here we are, Plucky as fuck and nearing 30 revolutions around the sun before I finally got it through my skull that what I want, matters. The way I feel, is important. And the way my life needs to be structured in order to be happy, is valid!
So please excuse me the next time I turn down your party invite, or decline "investing" my time and or money in the thing you think I should. I swear it's not personal, and I'm not trying to be impolite, but I've got someplace I need to be.
And it's not here. <3
Don't want to take your own photos? Use ours! 100% royalty free and CC0 stock photos at ! A site I run with @teamhumble to get pictures out of the camera roll and onto the web 👍🏻
