Last Ten Days of My Twenteens

29 has been a strange age but good age. I made a promise to myself that I was going to take control of my life and self and own it however which way would come. And, for the most part, I did. I did more this age for myself than I think I have in a long time. At least consistently and not just in chunks. Not since 23, when I took a year to learn what being self-sufficient meant. I failed myself after that and then spent a few years struggling with who I was and what I was even doing. I abandoned myself as others abandoned me and was really fucked up for those few years. I became independent but still with unresolved issues and attachment problems.

I spent my 20’s with so much inconsistency. With my looks, my weight, and who I was. That’s what they’re for, right? I didn’t see that at the time. That I wasn’t making mistakes, I was just experiencing life itself even though it was through a sometimes painful route. But when you think you are a mistake and dumb, you don’t feel the worth of thriving. So you’re just confused. I never fully felt like a real person because I thought I wasn’t important enough compared to everyone else. I felt like a kid on a soap box every time I wanted to have a voice. I took whatever I could in terms of a connection because I just wanted to be valued, yet it was something I was scared of because I failed at giving to myself. I felt like a potato/turd who just really, really, reaaaaally wanted to be cool.

I’ve always been judgmental but never quite leaned into it. I didn’t use it for better judgment for myself. I didn’t think I could own my shit if I got called out. I’m learning this isn’t true. Embracing my judgmental nature has helped in a sense that I waste less time. I don’t politely tolerate things I know I shouldn’t. I’m less giving to people who aren’t worth it and have more to give to those who are. I have less trouble expressing thoughts and stand by them knowing they are valid. I can deal better with conflict without worrying about being abandoned for it. I judge from my head and less from a defensive position, if that makes sense. As I own my self-care and feel boss from it, I stand where I do and stay there. I like who I’m beginning to build myself to be because it’s the me that I’d like to be and I’m allowed to have a choice in who sits with me or not. It’s only going to get honed and better. I know this. I’ve got an attitude that I’ve wasted trying to bury its worth. Now is the time to let it out.

I felt sad that I couldn’t hold down a proper relationship and felt like who I was wasn’t girlfriend material for what was needed for a working relationship. I have a couple of friends whose significant other just adore them and I still wonder how I get that to happen for me. My inadequacy with dating and being so available to guys who could barely make an effort for me made up most of my 20s while I was navigating alone. Sure, I had boyfriends but nothing was lasting like I once was capable of. I went from only understanding long term relationships to wondering if it was even a possibility anymore. Even now, I can’t imagine being in a relationship lasting at least a year. I gave my heart away recklessly, that’s for sure, and cried a bunch of unnecessary tears for the guys I cried over. I now roll my eyes about when I recall them.

I learned to be less apologetic for my dealing with guys because I stopped making reasons and excuses for the behaviour and efforts I’ve encountered. It’s something I no longer take responsibility for. I don’t have to colour up a romance that is simply not there even if my yearning heart wanted it. I’m allowed to respond instead of just react. I’m allowed to be grossed out or not interested. I have watched grown men cry not because they had feelings, but because they were getting their shit called out and emotional from it. It was always for themselves and never for me but I’d try to cooperate thinking it was. I emotionally babysat their feelings for them while they held no accountability for their bullshit. I didn’t think of myself enough in these situation. I was too busy proving myself over so little that it didn’t occur to me to assess them for myself. Not until it was too late and I was looking back on reflecting and mending rather than from a position of choice.

I’m getting better at engaging with people, as a whole, not in fragments. Almost all of my 20s were just pieces of me left with people because I never knew how to engage fully. I’m still not sure how to get explain this aspect. I felt like I couldn’t be accepted entirely so I’d show what could be accepted, by bits. I lived like an omission rather than a lie. Though it’s definitely a work in progress, I’m trying to navigate how to share my stories with people worth telling them to rather than as a way to try and connect. I’d like it to be a conversation rather than confessions. I used to be bad at participating in conversation unless someone engaged me because I didn’t really know how to connect with people. I didn’t know how to ask questions or what really to say. It’s honestly fucking weird when I think how I lived this way for so long now that I can properly do it. It’s crazy even.

More and more, I look in the mirror and see someone who takes care of herself but she’s no longer trying to chase an ideal. For like, four years now, I’ve been chasing this ideal weight and I got to it. I haven’t maintained it. I’m on average about two pounds over but I’m okay with that. I’m not disappointed because where I am right now, I like. I know it can be better but I don’t shit on myself for not making it better. I like how I put myself together. I don’t see someone who protects herself through binge eating or does it as a punishment for her emotions anymore. I don’t intentionally set out to stay comfortably but miserably chubby anymore. I don’t want to anymore and am confident about my self-control about it. Don’t get me wrong, I still indulge but I don’t feel the shame or guilt about it I once did and certainly not to the extent I felt it. I don’t hate myself when I’m not “on track”. I’m accepting of my body more without adding “even though”. I dress with a bit more self-steeze and honestly, its pretty fucking dope. I can finally feel it, ya know?

That’s the biggest thing I’ve shed in my remaining 20s. My self-loathing and this feeling like I’m living falsely as a person. I’m not trying to love myself anymore. I do. I’ve allowed myself to look after me and protect the inner child I neglected for so long. I no longer feel shame that I’m not a perfect person and not friendly all the time. I don’t apologize for it profusely as I once have. I can wake up the next morning with carb face from eating and drinking too much and not feel genuinely disgusted with myself as a human being. I don’t think I’m completely dumb and useless on a super earnest level anymore. That thought no longer feels like a truth about myself I have to hide. I know now it’s not true and I am okay with telling myself that as often as need be until I really understand it because there are days I still don’t.

I don’t feel insecure anymore. At least not with the same sense of tragedy and doubts. There were moments where I wanted to own the confidence but felt like I should be insecure instead and that doesn’t even make sense. I wait less on the approval of others because I prefer my own of myself. I don’t dim myself down to cater to other’s insecurities as much. I can do this without questioning if I’m arrogant or not because I don’t need to move aside where I’m not overstepping or crowding, ya know? Don’t call me over if you’re just going to ask me to step aside.

I’m living a life that is my own and in my control. In comparison, it’s alright but for me, it’s becoming pretty chill. Sometimes I feel incredibly lonely with how I live it but it doesn’t feel so isolating anymore. I know I have people in my life, it just takes adjusting to not feeling like I can only fill that spot romantically. I no longer fantasize as an escape or a longing, I now dream with ambition and think of how I can get there even though I’m still in learning. I still hope for a love where I’m represented as a partner and it’s expressed and not something that’s questioned or passive. I’m not desperate to try and find it with every person that flirts with me anymore though. I present myself as a person better because I can feel like I am one now. I haven’t quite grasp how to smile and wink at the world because I’m a flirt but I’ll figure it out.

All the things I struggle with, I no longer feel hopeless about. Being unattached gets me into trouble with myself when I drink too much because I haven’t learned to properly navigate that shit. I’m accepting my level of capabilities and challenging my feelings of uselessness. I know where I stand without assuming the lower end of life. I know how stubborn I am and how hard I can work. I’m not smart or intelligent but I can be clever. I have valid things to say. I’m allowed to be funny or think I am. I’m allowed to just try and go after my visions and my goals and whatever else I want to strive for. I can be unapologetic for standing my ground against people who are trying to undermine me or belittle me. I don’t have to be polite about it. It doesn’t make me difficult to stand up for myself.

I’m reflecting on all this stuff in the last days of being 29. My 30s will be something I hoped for in my 20s and if I do it right, each decade after will be better. It will be great not because I say so, it’ll be because I’ll be living in the best way I can, in whatever direction it goes. I will be authentic about my life and hope it’ll attract the same. I still feel silly embracing this mindset but I also feel more joy for it. Like, it’s not quite there yet but I’m at each step of getting there. I get to practice saying no to the wrong people and yes to the right ones and opportunities. I get to see what’s fitting for and with me and have that instead of struggling mismatch. I get to do so much more for myself now that I’ve shed a lot of the darkness I carried with me for most of my life. I’ll be standing as a happier 30 yro rather than a tragic 20.

Short of possibly failing my driving test tomorrow and crying myself to sleep about it…. I’m ready for the next decade and chill about the remainder of my 20s.

Potato Mentality

It’s one that I’ve had for a long time. Where you feel like you’re just this spud that’s there, you lounge, you’re not doing much, you’re just…. potato’ing. You’re pretty much useless.

The mentality showed in my efforts in life, in how I dressed, in how I behaved. At least that’s what I thought. I am a potato.

When you see yourself as a potato though, when you do try, it will look weird. Ever tried to style up a potato? I just saw a potato in cooler clothes. Trying to be assertive as a potato? Imagine a potato talking to you. Trying to flirt? It won’t work because this guy would be flirting with a potato and that’s a bit fucking weird. Trying to be cool? I’d see a potato with sunglasses on. Still weird.

Deep down, there was a part of me that had this weird glitch in me that made think I had a personality of a potato and cool people would see through that. Even though, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve been called a lot of things but rarely boring. Still, I thought I was a potato. Maybe I’m not boring but I’m useless and mostly lazy type of thing.

It’s a tragic mentality, isn’t it? Tell me about it.

It’s been harder to accept the potato mentality when I’m taking on responsibility and though It’s a new learning curve, I’m trying. I’ve become more accepting of my curves as a woman and I can’t say I’m a potato if this is my truth. I start to see a person, myself, as I dress more with confidence and less of a potato just in clothing. I don’t feel quite as anxious talking to people as myself so I see less of a potato with stick arms articulating a conversation. When boys flirt and I have the choice to either wink back or if they’re gross, shut it down, I see more of a person than a potato.

Hi, I’m Ariel. I’m an actual person and not just a potato. Though I still see one when I decide to have a lazy day but that’s my choice and that potato is pretty sweet in its setting.

 

Growing Up Emotionally Fast

I remember when I was young, I was never rebellious, just dumb. My friends did mature things that I was pretty naive to even though I was lowkey the equivalent of a horny teenage boy with no dick to stick in things. I learned about things through hours of sleepless nights on the internet. I didn’t learn much in real life.

While some of my friends were having sex at an early age, hanging out with older guys and smoking weed on the regular; I was just around. I didn’t get caught up in any of that. There were times I made embarrassingly terrible efforts to be sexy and failed miserably. Example: I wore a thong to class in ninth grade and almost gave myself a wedgie trying to show it off out of my jeans. Still, guys wouldn’t look at me. I was never the slutty one at parties. I only made out with everyone and then probably threw up somewhere later on in the night because I wasn’t very good at drinking either. I didn’t have sex until I was sixteen and I waited on purpose because that’s what teenage rom coms taught me was an appropriate age. I remember even calling a friend about it right after the guy left and being like yeaaaah, I did it. Because sex, amirite?

Fun fact: I had sex with the guy I lost my virginity like, eight or so years later. Nothing was like I remembered. It was pretty bad. I judged pretty hard. We never did it again. As a person, he was alright to me until he got weird/gross this year. I’ll respect on not getting into because he’s a newly father now………

I didn’t have a consistent adult figure to help me through life. Not even secondary like, a relative, teacher, mentor, etc etc. I had someone I viewed as an older sister when I was a kid but she passed away when I was thirteen. I lowkey had no one. It’s been weird trying to navigate life and raising myself mentally and emotionally. Especially since I’ve always been a bit of an idiot.

While I struggled with the confusions of growing up, I grew up emotionally faster than I was prepared for. I didn’t even know this was happening because I was just a kid. Reflecting as an adult, it explains why I was such an internalized mess for so long.

I have faint memories of being in a women’s shelter and the green pajamas with strawberry shortcake. This was one of my first real memories. I experienced death of others at a young age but dysfunctionally because most of the people I knew who died were young. It happened frequently enough while growing up that I had to accept it as something that was a part of life. I was too young to grasp the emotions of it properly. I took that into adolescence as well. I mean, I got sad but I never learned any grieving skills.

No one really took me seriously because of my parents and when I was young, I didn’t understand that either. I didn’t understand why the other kids in the Vietnamese community were so tight knit and I was such an outsider. I always felt like I never fit in. My dad used to try to beat the Vietnamese into me and my mum was the reason why we were so isolated so you can imagine how confusing that was for me. Nothing in my life made sense but because I was too young to understand, I didn’t really think much about it.

But I did know I felt bad things inside me that I couldn’t understand. I felt different but I didn’t know why. I had no one to talk to so I just kept it all inside. Getting yelled at or dismissed definitely helped with the internalizing. I wrote my thoughts out only to have my mum find them and when she could understand them, I’d get yelled at. Shame game was very real in how my life played out.

Though I didn’t understand, I had to cope. I had to cope with figuring out who I was while feeling like it was wrong to be me. I’d see happiness and connection around me but I couldn’t genuinely feel it myself. I was never jealous or bitter about it; there was just always this sad feeling that I couldn’t understand. I thought it was normal to feel the alienation, I think. At the time, I couldn’t tell what was from the trauma and what was part of growing up. They just seemed to blend together.

I didn’t tell many people about what was going on with me. I just acted like everything was okay. Partly to fit in, partly because I really, really wanted to be okay. I convinced myself enough that I was okay knowing I wasn’t. And just cool. I just wanted to be cool. Still waiting on that. But it gave me an understanding that I didn’t understand myself. I experienced things that people around me didn’t. I knew my upbringing wasn’t normal. Some people kind of knew but I spoke about it like a conversation not with any feelings. It was easier to pretend that I was normal too. I could always study how to be normal online while just pretending I was in my real life. I read obsessively about those who I looked up to and pretended this one message board was full of older siblings guiding me.

My lowkey coping and forced emotional growth kept me going through some of the darkest moments of my life. It caused an earnest in me that makes me more aware of the tough parts of life. I’m resilient for it but paired with my inability to think any better of myself, it caused for many, many messed up years. It kept my dumbass from feeling sheltered or entitled though because I didn’t ever feel important enough for that “privilege”. Because I never really acted out, I’d suffer quietly with occasional outbursts. I was innately attuned to my feelings but lacked the self-awareness to control them properly.

Growing up emotionally was my unintentional survival mode. Now as an understanding adult, it takes away the intensity of the shame I felt and the defectiveness I thought I was. Being able to share everything I thought I had to hide has helped me accept who I am more as a person now that I have less that I’m supposed to hide behind. I get to connect and feel the emotions I once wondered about. Maybe not to the level that I imagined but you know, I appreciate what I can feel. It’s allowing me to know what my actual emotions are and how to control them because I’m shedding the misunderstood ones away. I can understand what are sincere ones.

At almost thirty, my emotions are beginning to grow properly. They’re growing with me and with an awareness. Talking about it brings out the uncool feeling out of me because that’s how I feel with vulnerable shit but we’ll shed that.

Stop Hammering In The Pieces

gray scale photo of jigsaw puzzle

Photo by Markus Spiske temporausch.com on Pexels.com

I love a good jigsaw puzzle. I’m always lowkey on the lookout for a good puzzle but it needs to be at least 2,000 pieces otherwise it’s not worth the effort. Puzzles are expensive these days though. This wasn’t the point of the post.

Life is like a puzzle though, non?

If you’re smart, you start with the border, then group that shit by sections and then start putting the pieces together. But every piece fits. They go somewhere. Your life is like a puzzle. Except you’re probably more disorganized. The edges don’t match but no one told you that so you are stressed the shit out finding pieces where the edges match. I hate those puzzles. Whenever I get a puzzle where the edges don’t match, I get really annoyed.

In order to finish the puzzle though, you have to work with the pieces you have. Eventually, you realize that the puzzle is a shit show and you’re not dumb. Then you chill out a bit more trying to put the pieces together. Occasionally you realize your box has some extra pieces that some jackass decided to throw in but you don’t realize it right away and you wonder why that piece doesn’t fit. WHY WON’T IT FIT? It might take you a while to realize it’s someone else’s missing piece but instead of it being like a soulmate vibe, it’s just the missing piece of someone’s soul who threw a piece of them away and didn’t bother to look for it. The piece could be a stranger or someone you’ll end up knowing and giving it back to, who knows?

Missing pieces might even be you. Maybe you exploded at your puzzle one day and in a fist of rage, a piece went flying out. Will you notice it? Maybe someone else did and brought it back to you. Maybe you’re oblivious to it. But perhaps maybe you will finish a section and notice the other pieces don’t fit so you go search for it. Maybe you thought this and did that only to come back to your puzzle and realize the piece was there all along and you either call yourself a fucking idiot, shrug or smack that palm on that forehead.

Whatever the fuck you do though, don’t hammer in a piece. Don’t force a piece that obviously doesn’t fit. Sometimes someone or something (let’s go into a bit of fantasy) will give you a piece of a puzzle and you’ll try to put it in your puzzle but it won’t fit. Sometimes you’ll realize it right away but sometimes it’ll take a while as you’re building your puzzle. If you don’t though, it’s going to stress you the fuck out and you don’t know why. Sometimes it’ll look like it fits somewhere but when you go to put it in, it doesn’t quite fit. If it drives you mental enough, you’ll start hammering it in. You’ll pound your fist at it making sure it fucking fits. If you never get to finish your puzzle, you’ll never come to see that it didn’t fit. If you’re lucky, you’ll finish your puzzle and realize that it doesn’t fit when you find your actual piece.

It’s even madder when you realize there are more puzzle pieces that you anticipated. You’ve been working on the puzzle so long that you forgot that you didn’t get the damn puzzle in a box. It came in a bag. Just some random bag or box that had no indication of how many numbers of pieces. Sometimes you get lucky and finish your puzzle. Sometimes it’s bittersweet because you finish your puzzle and it’s beautiful but there’s the end of your life. Sometimes you never finish it and when you die, you leave never seeing the end result and those pieces you left behind are either regret or sadness.

But don’t hammer in the fucking piece. Don’t force something that could damage your puzzle or make it fit where it doesn’t belong. Your puzzle is yours and just because someone gives you a piece of theirs doesn’t mean it’ll fit yours. Just like sometimes you’ll do the same to someone else. When some of us do that, we’ll stress out as to why this piece doesn’t fit without really wondering why. We can also stop trying to force that piece in for now and come back later and realize that it doesn’t fit. Or maybe if we don’t think, that’s when the hammering starts. If someone is awful, they’ll watch you hammer, yell and curse knowing full well it doesn’t fit but who are they to tell you that? They let you figure it out for yourself because they’re a twat.

Sometimes it just doesn’t fit because it just doesn’t fit. You can either try and find its rightful owner. Maybe once you’ve done enough to your own puzzle. Or you can leave it somewhere for someone else to pick up and find.

Sorry guys, I don’t know where I was going with this. I had puzzle on my mind, too much wine and I had to write something. I’m not sure how to end this or even continue it. There was a point where I was going to go where there was another puzzle but then it got too complicated.