Category: Letters of Healing

Why I Quit the Clique and Cliche of Twenty One Pilots

So it’s 2026, and if you’re online, there is a good chance you have seen the 2026 to 2016 posts. The nostalgia for 2016 is real, even making me look at one of the most volatile years of my life through rose-colored glasses. But even though the 2010s were full of change for me, beginning with my junior year of high school, and ending with 2019, globally leading us into the pandemic. How weird is that? I got my license, my high school diploma, traveled to Europe, graduated from college, got married, moved out, had my first job (more like jobs), tried to have a career, reunited with my dad, met my siblings, moved out of state, wrote a novel, and lost several loved ones in 2016. My family fractured – it was so much personal change! But even so, I miss the optimism of the hipster era. I miss the simplicity of the pre-AI era and the pre-social media domination of our world. We were less logged in, less screen addicted. I’ve been drawn to watching Portlandia again, yearning for a coffee shop to spend the day in while listening to indie music, a simpler time. This week, I’ve found myself walking down memory lane in the form of 2010’s alternative music. Bands I haven’t thought of for a decade – The Joy Formidable, Phantogram, Joywave, Bear Hands, Sir Sly, etc. But one band, I determined in this holiday, into nostalgia I will not listen to again, even though they were a band I loved in the 2010s – Twenty One Pilots.

This is a bit of an oddball post. I haven’t listened to Twenty One Pilots since 2018, but for a three-year stretch, they were my favorite band. I collected merch, CDs, and ate up the lore. The para-social relationship was built on mental health struggles, faith, and being “quirky” felt comfortable. I mean, this was the mid-2010s and the height of the “not like other girls” trope. I relished in the alternative feel of their music, what I now understand to be noise music, and the darkness I felt in my own life craved the outlet to plug into. Josh understood my shyness, and Tyler understood the anxiety and depression I was feeling at the time. It felt safe because they were “Christians” and their music had “biblical references,” but they were also questioning everything and challenging the void. I didn’t see at the time how much un-aliving yourself idealization there was in the nihilistic moments of their music. The more I listened to their music, the more depressed I felt, and that is where I began to wake out of the dream I was walking in. I haven’t seen them or their music the same way since.

I think right now, with all the ways Christianity is being watered down, misused for political manipulation, and trampled upon by religious fundamentalists, I don’t want to listen to a band that is “somewhat Christian” again. That is not an estimation of their music either; that is what I found when I looked at the TOP subreddit today. That sentiment reminded me of what turned me off the most from their music, Tyler’s waffling. Or should I say deconstructing? That was another discussion I found on the subreddit. Now it is only fair to discuss this, with my own struggles out in the open. There were some things that came to light in recent months about someone I know, who is a pastor, which contradict the Bible, and it made me furious. Combine that with the DHS sharing misquoted scripture to claim their racism and violence as a “holy” thing turned me into this character.

What has my spiritual life been like in 2025 and now in 2026? Clinging to who I know God is in the midst of all these evil, power-hungry syncophants. Have I been reading my Bible daily? No, I have been a slacker. Have I been praying consistently? Yes, more than I have been reading my Bible. Have I been avoiding Christian culture? Yes. Where have I found myself gravitating towards? People who are acting out their faith and non-believers acting in ways that mirror what the Bible calls us to do. Never in this muck and mire have I wanted to imagine a world without God. If anything, it has made me crave God’s presence in this world with more frequency. It has to be a real connection. Faith is not a feeling, and it is not something you choose one day and rip apart the next. It calls for trust and for submission to align every part of your life under what you believe in. Faith is telos. Faith does not exist in a vacuum, nor do our relationships. Some days, having faith in good triumphing over evil feels like an extremely radical thing. There is no space for indecision.

Now, Tyler is allowed to feel and think what he wants, as long as he is not hurting anyone. I don’t care. But do I think he is a good example? No. There is an immaturity to his faith. A fence sitting that is only hurting him. As Earl Smooter says in Sweet Home Alabama, “You can’t ride two horses with one ass, sugarbean.” My need for conciseness and clarity is, for sure, part of my neurodivergence. I like it when people communicate directly. Honestly. I prefer the path laid out by another favorite artist.

I give life to my words
(Yeah, I’m doing what I say)
I reach heights from the dirt
(Yeah, I’m doing what I say)
You know I bite the way I bark
(Yeah, I’m doing what I say)
(Doing what I say, doing what I say)

Creed by Stray Kids

Decision matters. Being aligned with what you believe in, in every aspect of your life, which takes being truly honest with yourself, will bring mental peace. Mental peace was something I never personally felt from their music. I could feel the overthinking, tearing at the seams, the complete drifting in the current. It could be dressed up with lore or cringing lyrics, but the identity was never solid. Taking time away from their music gave me such relief. Ironically, my time of being part of the Clique was followed by a period of listening to mostly worship music for a few years before landing in K-pop. I think I personally matured out of the place where the Clique remains, waiting for identity. Where their leader remains. I think it is easier to not confront ourselves than it is, to have these times of personal crossexamination. But I think it’s a poor witness for your faith to never pick a side. How can something so integral to your life, your worldview, be left with unresolved doubt? What a loose end.

Deconstruct with integrity. Affirm your faith with integrity. I’m all in favor of confronting the church for its cowardice over injustice in America. Jesus showed us how. So did his servant Paul. But to leave it as a vague, Blurryface, is immature thinking. Through my research for this post, my searches for a clear answer about Tyler’s faith left me with more questions. Like a politician, it is vague and hard to define. Answers offered were that he can’t put it into words, he is wrestling, still defining, or can’t put it into words. What? More digging led to answers outlining TOP’s music as his way of communicating his search for understanding. To explore doubt by supposing a world without God – well, that’s why I found their music so dark! I am actively shaking my head. Again, there needs to be more maturity in songwriting, creative writing, philosophy – something to explore these themes with more nuance. I am just not impressed. Especially when you contrast Tyler’s exposition of his faith and the world we are living in, to the faith journeys of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. In summation, I find the faith and doubt of TOP to be cliché and played out. Go deeper. Tell us what you believe in, like fans have requested, concerning the genocide in Gaza.

Now, TOP fans, this is my opinion, and everyone is entitled to their own opinion. None of this was written as an attack on you or your favorite group, just my honest reflection on a time of my life where Twenty One Pilots spoke to me. I’d say really the only part of this “lore” I’ve listened to is these four albums – Twenty One Pilots (2009), Vessel (2013), which was my favorite, Blurryface (2015 the album I started with, and Trench (2018), which I disliked so much I sold my concert tickets and donated my merch. You, Clique, have popularity on your side. I know I am in the minority, but I’m also in the minority of thinking Taylor Swift is a terrible songwriter, and that hasn’t stopped me.

What kind of music did you enjoy in the 2010s? Has your music taste changed? Thanks for spending time with me today, dear reader. Until next time ❤

Emotional Endurance, No Cap

What do you do when you need a break, but you can’t? I’ve been wrestling with this for months. It’s been a tricky thing to discuss on here, and without feeling ready to write without revealing too much, I have been spinning on it, to quote NMIXX.

Any time I feel overwhelmed, I take that space. But what if you can’t? Like what if the thing that is weighing on you is as interwoven in your life as a single thread in the warp and weft of your jeans? It’s a tricky one that I don’t think anyone has taught me; it’s just kinda hanging there. We struggle alone, because we are human.

Relationship University

I’ve been thinking alone, pondering my frustrations, my overwhelm, my weariness for a break because I am a neurodivergent, deep-feeling, overthinker. It does not come easy to me to pause, to force my mind to stop and breathe. It’s something I wish we had learned in school. Any of the schooling – elementary, high school, or college? How wonderful would it be to learn about emotional intelligence and algebra? Traumatic stress coping mechanisms and world history? What about grammar and proper communication tools to de-escalate a tense argument? Literally would be life-changing. Meditation with a side of physical education? We mostly played soccer(football) because it was cheap, and it was monotonous. Both Kyle and I would feel less we are drowning in the complications of personal struggles if we had an education in relationships.

We did the brief marriage counseling, sure, which I guess prepares you for marriage? I think getting through the first year is truly what teaches you the most. (We are a few months away from celebrating ten, so we do have some experience.) We also had the years of friendship experiences, some previous dating experiences, and the lifelong knowledge of being part of families – but they don’t prepare you for the stress that comes with multiple, personal struggles that you and your spouse sometimes have to tackle all at the same time, meanwhile life keeps moving forward, and you feel like a hamster in a wheel.

Burnt Out, Like Toast In Obsidian Crumbs

What I felt the most since these stressful situations began to weigh on Kyle and me was the desire to hit pause and process what I was feeling while the world held still. You know? Just a moment, where you could feel without the expectation to be who you are and do the things others depend on you for. Even the little things, you depend on yourself to do. Of course, that feeling grows to a desire to stop the world for days, and escape to a zone where the stressful things can’t bother you. A yearning for the before and a hunger for the after, this is all resolved and back to normal. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the big emotions of personal things that you forget to have fun together. You forget to just be yourself. It’s a bizarre version of your life that doesn’t feel familiar, and I think after months of feeling like this, 2025 ended with me feeling chewed up and angry.

So why do we pretend like this is a normal state of being a responsible adult? Like if I hadn’t decided to stop drinking alcohol in 2021, this season would have been months of riding out a buzz, ignoring my problems, and choosing unhealthy coping mechanisms. Subbing in a source of temporary joy, depending on a thing or a feeling to get you through, is avoiding the inevitable mess that upset you in the first place. But I think this is the box we put ourselves in as adults, to stop from appearing weak or vulnerable. Substitute a drink for a shopping haul, sports betting, s*x, doom scrolling – what I’m talking about is far more common than we admit. So why do I feel so alone in this feeling?

It is still my present burden to bear, Kyle’s present burden to bear. Contrary to the calendar, your problems on Dec 31 are still there when you wake up on Jan 1. Doesn’t that suck? I felt myself wishing more than ever at the end of 2025 that the “fresh start” effect was real. Because life requires emotional endurance with no cap. That is quite difficult for us humans to do. It requires patience, hope, faith, self-control, gentleness, and love. We grow weary, we hide our struggles like they are something to be ashamed of, instead of a common part of life. We are odd creatures. That’s why I decided to share this, because I don’t think we discuss this enough, and I plan to talk about it more.

Marriage is hard, in more ways than I could even comprehend, but that doesn’t mean it is impossible. As we are both kids of divorce, we stubbornly refuse to address the stress that is negatively affecting our relationship because to do so feels like we are already failing, but that’s not true. So I’m writing this for you, the one who feels the weight of their parents’ divorce on all of their relationships, like a curse you are inevitably going to repeat. It’s not true. Keep going and stop bracing for the bottom to drop out, like I waste time waiting for. We are survivors, and we are going to make it through the mess.

More Reflections, A Year With a Bunny Part Two

One year ago, we adopted Mia from a local rabbit rescue. We knew life would change, but we didn’t consider how much we would change and grow from this experience. These are my reflections on how our little house bunny, Mia, has shaped us in our first year together.

Awareness

Today, I accidentally scared Mia. I came downstairs from working out, with music playing on my phone, distracted and not considering the little bunny, snoozing in a deep sleep. As soon as I looked up from my phone, I was highly aware of what my blissful ignorance hath wrought: ears standing tall, eyes wide, and body tense, ready to run at the slightest hint of danger. Before Mia, I was aware of what startled me, but with Mia and her own sensitive ears, it has challenged me to approach life with an even gentler touch. Today was a day I forgot, but with each passing month, these moments of unawareness are decreasing. Getting used to how aware Mia is of her surroundings was intimidating at first. I remember feeling on edge those first weeks, feeling like I was unable to relax – scared to scare Mia – a bit impossible of a standard!

I’ve learned to be quiet, internally and externally. The desire for quiet, for the little prey animal in our midst, has become a craving for quiet coming from a place inside me. What felt like a burden at first has become a blessing, because the awareness of the sound level, the peaceful environment I wish to create for Mia, has become a goal I desire for my own needs. The awareness of the quiet and the peace is something that I need, that Kyle needs. It’s healthier for us, but in this distracted and noise-polluted world, I don’t know if my awareness was going to attune to this again without Mia.

Structure

Mia has a schedule, possibly wearing a little watch somewhere under all that fur. She hops to her dinner spot around 5 pm, and waits for her breakfast starting at 8 am. She knows what time we should go to bed, with a precision I wish I could stick to. I’m not blessed with a sense of schedule. I tend to drift off course, but Mia is teaching me structure, and her needs are reminding me how comforting a schedule can be. Taking care of her is teaching me more about what I actually need to take care of myself in a healthier way. How is this little bunny so wise, so intuitive? The promise to care for her, every day, is a responsibility that I thought would feel heavy and burdensome, but instead, it is a way I have rediscovered purposeful living. I am grateful.

Letting Go

Detachment from physical things is the hardest lesson I’ve had to learn from living with Mia. Mia loves to chew my stuff. She has chewed holes in sentimental blankets, she has forever changed favorite pieces of furniture, and she will take a chunk out of newly made pieces fresh from my workroom. She doesn’t discriminate from store-bought items either – brand new overalls, my phone case, my Nalgene bottle. This has stressed me out. Mia has chewed the couch, a brand new coffee table hand-built by Kyle, the freshly painted baseboards, slippers, and I’m sure there will be more. I’ve gone through the stages of grief. I’ve had moments of intense frustration and questioning it all. But when I committed to adopting Mia, I told myself that I would remember that people are more important than things, and in this case, people and little furry members of the family.

The Floor is Great

I love sitting on the floor. I have always loved sitting on the floor; it grounds my mind – no pun intended. But dating and spending time at future in-law houses and not wanting to be weird, renting with worn wood floors, and moving into adulthood with busy schedules, changed my life from a cozy floor sitter to work chairs and collapsing into couches at the end of the day. Or sitting at my sewing table in a chair with bad posture. I stopped sitting on the floor. But with a rabbit, they like and need you to be on their level. I believe it is essential for bonding with your rabbit. At the beginning, it was hard. It felt unnatural after a decade of not being on the floor. The floor felt hard, unwelcoming. Even with carpet. But after a few months, I felt comfortable. My hips and back hurt less when I spend time on the floor. A year later, I am back to being a floor dweller. Without Mia, would I have ever gone back? I don’t know, but wow, my body feels more comfortable, younger even.

Slow Down, Be Present

The final thing that my rabbit soulmate has taught me this year is to be present and slow down. Mia is already four; she has an estimated lifespan of 12 years, which is not a lot of time when you really care about someone. I don’t want to miss any more moments with her. Kyle and I celebrated 9 years of marriage this year, 11 years together. Time feels like it is flying, and I want to be more present in my relationship with him. My mom and my stepdad are also getting older, and I want to be more present. Mia is teaching me that. Where I can, when I can make the choice to pause what I am doing to spend time with her, and I challenge myself to do so. That has been a challenge. I tend to hyperfixate on projects, which burn me out, but a difficult bad habit to break.

This year, I have created less, but I am feeling the balance being restored to my life. Without Mia hopping over to spend time with me, who knows if I would be shifting my perspective to a healthier state of mind? I can feel my mind and body feeling less stressed. Mia naps a lot, and that is another piece of the slowing-down puzzle that I am learning to accept without guilt. Rest is important. Rest is necessary. Slowing down is good for us. But we resist, because it’s tough to go against the grain. Rest is seen as lazy, even though our bodies and minds get burnt out. Living with Mia is helping me reset those misconceptions and take better care of myself.

Final Thoughts

I would 100% recommend adopting a rabbit if you have been thinking about it. Adopt any pet, actually, or volunteer at a local animal shelter. Do your research and get involved; it will change your life for the better. Animals are so calming. Mia has helped me open up again, in ways I thought I was closed off for good. It’s helped me understand my neurodivergence, my sensitivity, my trauma. She just gets me. She listens, she is there. She has become a best friend, and don’t we all need more of that in our lives? And what about Mia? Well, I’m honored that we got to provide her with her furever home. She has a big space to zoomie around, endless hay, and pets. She gets to watch TV, explore the couch, and have all her toys and treats to herself. She is the center of attention and trusts us. It’s amazing to know a prey animal trusts you. It challenges you to be the best person you can be.

Forest Creature Hat

Have you ever wanted to look like you emerged from a cozy video game? Maybe you’d like to wear a hat that reminds you of spooky season? Behold my new crochet adventure, not my first hat, but the second stitched together for this autumnal season.

This hat is inspired by the pointed witch hats, either sewn or made from yarn, that make an appearance in October, either in patterns that I see advertised or inspiration sources online. I didn’t want to make anything too witchy. I am not aiming to be a witch; I am looking for something fantastical. My hat is more of an allusion to the pointed, wide-brimmed headwear, while also aiming to be something a bit historical, rural, maybe hobbity in form.

The inspiration image I used for this project is a hat from Animal Crossing: New Horizons – the frugal hat. It is a subtle nod to a scarecrow, while it could belong in the wizarding world. I chose to crochet this project for the ability to sculpt the hat in a way that is freeform. I love how crochet lets you create without managing all the stitches on a needle; instead, I was able to switch from the hat portion to the bill with ease. I crocheted onto the side of the hat and used varying stitches of single crochet, double crochet, and granny stitch to add the frilly volume to the bottom.

Another reason I chose to crochet, over knitting this hat, was to provide the hat with more structure than knit stitches. Crochet stitches have more body to them. This was a scrap project, using leftover yarn from my first sweater dress, now a cardigan, made in 2023. Which was also scrap yarn, from a previous scrap yarn project – my cat ear beanie from 2024. As time passes, and I make more things, I love seeing how projects are connected through materials over time, because scrap yarn is kind of magical. It’s always worth it, in my opinion, to hold on to the extras for these random projects that call for just a little bit of yarn.

Finally, this hat project was inspired by one other seasonal topic, the state of my country. It just never stops right now….ahhhh!!!

Am I living in the 1950s? No, but dang was this what McCarthyism was like? I’m sick of the FBI telling Black Americans not to mourn Assata Shakur. Charlie Kirk is being touted as a martyr by MAGA and the primarily white church, tainting the message of the gospel with that Nationalist sham of a funeral, complete with Hitler-esque photos by the orange man. It’s getting ICY in a lot of places nationwide. So, I made a witch hat, because the Salem Witch Trials of 1692 and 1693 were not about witchcraft.

Instead, they were about religious extremism, sumptuary laws, xenophobia, and social tension. It was profitable to report your neighbor as a witch. You could gain financial and political power by reporting people who did nothing wrong. So I made a witch hat, because I am done with the injustices being played off as not that serious, and I am tired of our own political witch hunts. I feel helpless and angry all the time because of the Idiocracy. So I made a hat to try to do something creative with my feelings.

This forest creature hat, named by my sibling, was designed by me and created using worsted-weight acrylic yarn with a 5.5 mm crochet hook.

I Am My Own Crafting Worst Enemy

This is an unplanned part three of my “Drafting Shortalls From Scratch” because I did not succeed in making my overalls for winter. Although I have made shortalls twice this summer, a few silly, but very human mistakes, led to the project going awry. This is what I think went wrong:

  • Flew too close to the sun when tailoring
  • Planning < No Plan
  • Lack of Focus
  • Measure Once, Cuss Twice
  • I kinda hate sewing when it feels this hard
  • Putting too much pressure on myself
  • Not Buying Enough Fabric
  • Not Mocking Up
  • Not using my Patterns when I’m stuck
  • Research the Basics

It’s so easy to think we’ve got this and be too confident when going into a project. With knitting, this approach of fearlessness had led to some great projects, but with sewing, this artistic type of approach crashes and burns. Sewing is fabrication, as weird as that sounds. I think I was prepared to sew such complex tailoring projects, such as my shortalls, this summer, because I spent the spring building a screened-in porch with Kyle. Woodworking is very similar to sewing, I learned! It is about measuring, planning, creating things in a specific order, and constructing something that is built to last. When we started working on the porch, I never imagined how much it would teach me about garment construction. But it gave me a template to focus on. Who knew that woodworking would be such an inspirational experience for me?

So why am I sharing this? I am really struggling to accept that sewing is not coming easily to me; no matter how much I practice, it continues to challenge me. I’d like to invite you to join me in not giving up on those things in our lives that are hard.

Apathy and Fear – The Worst Cocktail

It drifts in, like a high pressure system. Clouds stratify, and all seems well. We don’t know that the pallid tone maybe the one that may drain the life from us, until we are as pale as a corpse.

Apathy. The silent assassin that numbs the senses to right and wrong. A comfortable sweater of indifference to our worries, we check out. But it doesn’t just numb us to what hurts us, it numbs us to all things, even joy. Disassociating will not make what is weighing on you better. Choosing to be a part of the background, to escape the foreground and its perils, is not going to rescue your mind from the monsters waging war. Because that is what apathy does, it makes you forget that you are making a choice not to care, and makes you feel like the world is victimizing you, when instead, this path you chose, yourself.

Fear. It’s powerful. It motivates us like nothing else, because no matter what is going right in our life, the looming fear of our mortality and of the inescapable henchman named pain will get us in the end. There is nothing that can change that. It eats at us, not knowing when the bad will come. Fear isolates. Fear keeps us closed off in suburbs. Fear drives a big SUV, that is 6 feet off the ground, in a tank that blocks from view the child you are about to run over. Fear, closes off communities from connection, to protect us from the unknown devil living next door. Paranoia holds us at arms length. The faces we see everyday, can’t be trusted. Fear will keep us safe. Fear is gerrymandering a map to neutralize the unknown, to grasp at the concept of control, before the phantom slips through our fingers. Fear censors history, because it is too weak to look at the failings of our ancestors.

I’ve seen fear and apathy take good people and turn them into feckless sycophants to the current guard. I’ve seen money and security divide us, when connection would save us. And now, I’ve witnessed first hand how easy people are swayed, and it sickens me, even a trusted friend can fall to its charisma. I’ve now seen first hand, the cleverness of fear and apathy to destroy compassion, moral truth, and justice for the chance to be saved. For the sake of the job. Comfort, instead of doing what is right. I always wondered why people in the past let dictators and evil groups turn their necks to ignore genocide and racism, but heck, even those you think are good, will trade it all for a coin. We are fallen, flawed humans, with a penchant for destruction, war, and hate. I don’t want to see another good one fall prey to the evil of the shadows, because they are in pain.

It’s ironic how we have been too arrogant in my culture to believe we could not fall as far as those of the past. We have progressed past those silly people of yore. Too long have ignored the power of an individualistic culture and problematic policies which seek to isolate, and haughtily believed would not get us one day.

Apathy and Fear. Don’t drink from their cup. We must cling to empathy, even on the days the weight of the world feels like it is going to break us in half. It wants to but it can’t because love conquers all things. Fear is a liar. It spends its time creating shadows that loom above, but will always disappear in the light. It’s not easy to care. But it is important that we stay the course in love, in empathy, and refuse let go of ethics. For without those, what do we have other than a mortal bag of bones and a never ending hamster wheel?

#74 – Ain’t That Just the Way

So this week started off amazing. My mom and I began finding a healthy way forward, for real this time. Nothing shoved under the rug to deal with later. No festering. No harsh talk, instead patience, love, realness. It was truly an answer to prayer that I learned, required me to put into action what I was feeling.

I journaled all my raw feelings, and sat with what these words on paper showed me – I wanted more. I wanted realness, and nothing less. We each reaches this point at the same time, and it got better. Over last week, it got much better. Kinder. I even spent time with her on Sunday.

Monday morning though, life decided things were too good. Our family dog, Sully, became extremely sick. He had been dealing with some health issues over the past year, but it fell apart over night. He died on Tuesday. I am heartbroken, but crying together with my mom instead of on own like we did for other big losses.

I think the most challenging part of losing a pet is that sense of home you associate with them. He was my safe place for 14 years, all of my adulthood so far, and his steady love will always be missed.

Have you lost a pet? What helped you heal? I’m going to try to get back on track with writing next week, but yeah, life just keeps getting weirder, everyday.

Letters Of Healing #2 – Letting It Out Is Important Too

I have a bad habit, I’ve acquired over the past few years: I bottle things up so people don’t leave me. Hi, I’m Magz and I have a problem. A two-prong issue, actually, I am not processing my feelings, and I am irrationally concerned about rejection. It’s not good. I was taught to believe by family and society that it was because of divorce, specifically placing the blame on my dad, and to be honest, I believed that for a long time. But that answer leaves all of us who have experienced that or who fear rejection in this weird pseudo-reality of things being out of our control, which doesn’t help. It turns the intensity up all while limiting personal growth. How can you move on if this is baked into your personality, right? I mean, everyone who knows your story will instantly know your flaws – your parent or parents “didn’t love you enough” to stick around. Yeah, this is a toxic bunch of nonsense.

So what has helped me get more clarity on this, honestly, is learning about what makes my mind tick and how I can work with myself to be healthier. For me specifically, learning about neurodivergence, and specifically the possibility of undiagnosed autism or adhd, has helped me understand that there might be more to my penchant for brutal honesty than just being an off-putting person or a bad person. It might be that my brain simply processes differently, yet because I want to fit in – masking, I fall into people-pleasing patterns to “fit in” with those around me. Similar to learning about high-masking autism in females, with adhd, there is a sensitivity to rejection and difficulty with emotional regulation that makes processing the rejection more difficult. I can see these in the ways I have interacted with people throughout my life, especially family members.

I get stuck in these camps of either feeling the need to be brutally honest, especially if I feel an emotional meltdown coming on from bottling everything up, or I clam up and shove it down, no matter how much it hurts to “please” the person. All this does is create a cycle of emotional repression, overwhelm, and meltdown behind the scenes. Loneliness, anger, bitterness, shame, fear of rejection, and pain. This is not what a healthy person looks like.

For too long, I’ve mistaken being “tough” with being healthy. It’s been the one-two punch of finding Elena Carroll’s reflective essays and watching Scrubs for these to start clicking in my brain. I find myself pinballing between being like Dr. Dorian, who lets people like Elliott walk all over him, and Dr. Cox, who shoves it all down and sinks into a pit of loneliness behind the shadows because dealing with my problems makes me feel uncomfortable.

My constant dysfunctional relationship, which gets more unhinged every year, my relationship with my mom is the place where I see all these problematic habits come to the surface. I will bottle something up for a decade, afraid of the confrontation, and then one day I will just explode about something else. To be fair, when I do blow up, it’s usually after my mom has contributed to my anger with a gem of guilt or a little nugget of criticism on some part of my personality. Like recently, I was told she was intentionally withholding her health updates after two concerning ER visits, because I am too “sensitive” to handle anything after I told her it has been scary thinking of being sick because I love her. Yep, I see where I have learned to shove everything down – you can’t be weak and express emotions, that’s for losers.

So where does that leave me? Well, I can either choose Option #1 – be honest about my frustrations and stand up for myself, which comes with consequences, Option #2 – bottle it up and fake a smile, all while my shoulders knit themselves into a stress knot and my jaw clenches like a bear trap, Option #3 – I avoid the relationship for months at a time and pretend like nothing happened. Lately, I’ve been thinking, why can’t I just be honest as it comes, instead of bottling up to the point where I am furious? I don’t live there anymore, there are no consequences for being honest gently, and in the moment that I disagree? That would be healthier, and somehow, over all these years, I forgot how to do this. Because adulthood is lonely. Grief is lonely. Sometimes that fear of rejection and people pleasing is all that you crave just to keep a relationship with a loved one steady, because you miss how easy it was when you were a kid.

I think health, though, might be more important than the illusion of peace, because I have not been managing stress well over the last ten years. My mental health took a toll, and so did my physical health. I’ve stored so much stress in my body, pretending I was happy about things that hurt me because I didn’t want to hear how I was different, not enough like my mom’s family, or weak for being sensitive, or a bad person for getting angry sometimes. I’ve had the same knot at the base of my neck for 5 years, which is not healthy at all. So what am I doing with all these revelations about who I am and what is healthy and what is not? I am slowly shifting through it. I’m taking space and a break from some of my more trying family relationships to get this stress worked out of my body and find my calm again. My husband, friends, and my beloved bun deserve better than for me to let things out of my control take a toll on my mental and physical health. Especially when they are the ones who pick up the pieces when I fall apart.

How do you manage stress? Do you struggle with people pleasing or bottling up emotions? Have people ever told you to change who you are to fit their standards?

I’m Sick of the Doom Spiral

I’m not really sure how long this post is going to be, but I wanted to speak out into the void today because there is far too much darkness hanging around, and it’s honestly eating me up. I’m disappointed in my own feeling of doom, and feeling hopeless when what I am feeling afraid of is shadows on the wall. Like the Cave allegory of Plato. I think C.S. Lewis’ work The Screwtape Letters does a magnificent job of adding a new layer to the allegory of the Cave, in my opinion. (They are not directly connected by anything other than my own musings.)

In my opinion, we are living, staring at the shadows, chained by things of our own choosing. The main one I would say is social media, and the 24-hour news cycle, which in concert is keeping us chained in our own prisons, by keeping us distracted. We are stuck dwelling in the never-ending waterfall of problems, and we don’t stop to think or to choose a problem to tackle; instead, we are thrown over the waterfall, and our peace is dashed against the rocks every day. If we would pause and breathe. Stop and consider, you realize that you can either continue being overwhelmed by the world, or you can take the chains of social media off. This thing that so easily entangles us and shuts down the ever-wailing news and its dribble of despair, to seek ways to fill your cup. Therefore, you can approach the troubles of the world with renewed eyes that have hope because we have hope from within. Not the human spirit but the Holy Spirit. I think we forget that we can do that and still care about the problems in front of us. We are not apathetic but proactive. Seeking more than what seems possible from all these voices shouting hate, doom, and fear. Are things broken? Very much so. But when have they been perfect?

The world is doomed. It has been doomed since the fall of man. Even though Jesus overcame the world, there is still no guarantee of a charmed life for believers. This place of fallen things is temporary, for the world will pass away someday. It doesn’t mean it is happening now. We all went through a collective world trauma in 2020, which compounded the daily things that make the world unfair, and it also opened our eyes to injustice in our midst. Just because we are more aware of the bad doesn’t mean that we can’t fight to fix it. But I think we need to do that offline. It’s a distraction. And I think Screwtape and Wormwood have a very easy job as long as we stay divided, isolated, and helpless online. The algorithm forces us to consume things at its pace, but that pace is a complex math equation, not the inner workings of millions of human minds, each made uniquely, that process, cope, and solve at our own pace.

For my fellow Americans specifically, if the Big Beautiful Bill is going to destroy America, I think we are looking with tunnel vision because of our own privilege. How many of our marginalized neighbors have endured far worse over the history of America, and they still have hope and have fought for a better future? I’m not falling for this propaganda anymore, and I’m also not supporting the workforce blackout either. We need supply lines, and we need to provide for ourselves. Protest with wisdom, not with sabotage in mind, because not having goods trucked in is going to hurt those most vulnerable in society, not the Senate or the Executive branch.

Finally, there are so many resilient cultures around the world that we could look up to right now for a reality check. All the countries deemed “3rd World” or developing nations. They are exploited every day by 1st world nations, and have for centuries been held down for the profit of the few. Do those people give up even though this is their reality every day? No. Against every odd, they provide for their families without help. We have help, and we cry poor and ignore their struggles and worry about our first-world inconveniences. We do this to the most vulnerable in our own country, too. Look at what’s going on in our communities due to ICE, the housing crisis, the cultural genocide of Native peoples, and African peoples through the slave trade. We have always had evil running things; this is not new. If America is ruined by the BBB, our foundation was always sinking sand. So don’t give this junk another moment of worry and focus on the big picture – how can we be the light of the world and the salt of the earth? And every day, let’s focus on the solid foundation freely given to everyone through the sacrifice of God’s son.

Sorry that this is a bit of a rant, I just needed to push back against the heaviness I feel pushing down on this lovely July day. Happy Canada Day! And stay strong. ❤

Individuals Without Individuality

What does it mean to be an individual? Are you a person? A sum among parts? An island? A unique person, maybe? What does it mean to do things individually? What does individuality mean to an individual? I really wish this word, and its forms, weren’t so tricky to spell with my slightly dyslexic mind (not formally diagnosed, but it runs in the family). It’s a lot to digest, but this has probably been stewing in my mind for the past year, waiting for me to plate it up.

My culture is incredibly individualistic, and this is expressed in good ways and bad. One good way is that my country is a land of immigrants and indigenous people, meaning there are voices, ideas, and ways of doing things. But when there are people, there are forces of wanting to fit in, wanting to control and suppress, and prescribed ideas of the “best” way. I think this has been at the forefront of my mind because I see a vast amount of content being shared online saying originality is dead, or personal style has been killed by the algorithm. We are all core-ified or aesthetically boxed in, and social media has commodified subcultures. But it’s the internet, critiquing the internet, so we’re of course using broad, and extreme brushstrokes here.

Where my mind has drifted to is the sameness. I see people online discussing the boringness of everything from movies to the same cosmetic procedures, the bland landscape of interior design, and starter pack cliches for “types” of women. There is a sea of Petite Knit patterns, a galaxy of Marvel media that repeat the same formula, reboot television, and romantic tropes pushed by publishers and BookTok to make everything fit nicely in the digital marketing ecosystem. Then we fall into nostalgia, like recession pop, which I found myself listening to the other day, reminiscing about my first summer as a member of Geneva’s painting crew in 2010. Thinking about how different life was before I even had a Facebook.

What we talked about and the memories I made with the women and men of my team were tangible, not digital. We discovered what we liked based on environmental forces, like books assigned in school, books suggested by a friend, etc. Music was discovered and shared by radio play, recommendations from others, and shared playlists that your friend curated, not the music streaming platform or the algorithm. I thought a bit less about my appearance, I mean, in adolescence, you are quite aware, but not as much as the smartphone era has brought attention to the physical image of ourselves. I had fewer pictures, grainier pictures, but more memories. Strong memories are tied to tangible things, like songs, food, books, buildings, and movies. We were all very different from each other, yet we could find commonality, and this is where the gears in my mind started turning.

We were part of a group, but had individuality. Yet, nowadays I feel more like I’m in a void, of no commonality, except for how everyone is into the same things, and wears the same clothes, yet we are not connected, communicating, nor would I even consider that despite our shared things we are on a team or part of a community. It’s hollow.

I think we are missing the point of life. We are not working towards something together. We are not part of communities. We are part of aesthetics. We have become fans not of art or sport but of corporations like Target, Lululemon, Sephora, Stanley, and Tesla. Well, probably not Tesla anymore. Target is also being boycotted, so…anyways. Apple, Alo, Rhode, Kate Spade, Trader Joe’s, Labubu. That’s more 2025, phew. Why are we stanning companies? Why are we considering shopping for a hobby? This is not a way to connect; it is a way to consume and drown in stuff instead of substance. Our roots are becoming so shallow, and our debt is vast; we are plants choked out by the weeds of hyper-individualism. We have let originality become a thing achieved not by character formation and real-life community, but by the path of purchase. Purchases for ourselves. It snuck in so fast, I didn’t realize how the art of gift giving has become a self-care checklist. Yikes! It wasn’t until playing Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing: New Horizons that I was struck by how topsy-turvy my own culture has become. Our priorities are whack, and I believe it has made us lonely, shells, devoid of individual thought, buying our way to “happiness” because all we think about is our individual needs above all. We have forgotten that humans are fulfilled by the relationships and communities we are rooted in. It’s time to break the spell.

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