Tag: mental health

Reflections From the Garden: Focusing on My Mental Health

I’ve written a few times about how peaceful gardening and being in the garden can be. Escaping from technology, surrounding yourself with nature, and being fully present with your plants has nothing but a positive effect on your life. But that doesn’t mean it is a perfect prescription for everything in life, and this summer, I found myself battling mental health problems that the garden alone couldn’t solve.

This post will be a bit different from what I typically write here, but I think it’s important to share. As a guy, there’s often a stigma surrounding mental health and attempting to get help (or at least that’s the case in the United States). This is a little bit about recognizing that I needed help and how it’s going so far.

Owning a House & Having a Garden Were What I Always Wanted

Buying our own house and having a yard big enough for a large in-ground garden were two goals I’ve had for a few years. When we were in the house we previously rented, I always said that it was going to be the last place we rented. I knew that only so much of that was in our control, but I was hopeful. The opportunity presented itself after three years, which was earlier than we would have liked, but with much prayer, help, and perseverance, we stuck with it. After signing all the paperwork and moving in, there was great excitement, but I still didn’t feel as happy as I probably should have. When last winter arrived, I was very happy and excited to be planning our first garden. I was also happy early in spring to be digging new garden beds, which I wrote about in great depth. But something still wasn’t right.

Feeling Off

Even in the midst of all the excitement that comes with gardening, I found myself being frustrated, irritable, and angry at the drop of a hat. Even in situations where I should have been happy, such as planting seeds, I was getting overly upset at little things. For example, if I put too many seeds in one area, I would beat myself up. That alone isn’t the worst thing; however, it affected my mood and how I interacted with those around me, including Magz. I would be short in how I communicated with her and have an edge to my voice.

I also began putting unnecessary pressure on things. I constantly focused on what was going wrong with the garden or what work needed to be done next instead of enjoying our successes or taking breaks. Weeds needed to be pulled and fertilizer needed to be added regardless of the temperature or UV index. This led to me being outside in the afternoon on hot, sunny days when the temperature was above 90 degrees. That work didn’t need to be done at that exact moment, but I felt like it had to. Worse yet, was that I passively applied that same standard to Magz. She asked me if I needed help or would be disappointed if she didn’t help (even though I know that she doesn’t do as well as I do in hot weather). I would tell her no, but when I came back inside, I would either act like I just did the hardest work anyone has ever done or would hold a grudge over it.

The last things I noticed were regularly being tired even after getting a good night’s sleep, no longer being interested in hobbies or activities I like, being moody, struggling to make decisions, and feeling as though I couldn’t hold conversations. In general, I felt depressed and down. Magz regularly asked me what was wrong, but I couldn’t pinpoint anything and just said that I felt off. Eventually, this led to us fighting pretty regularly and me not feeling confident in my ability to get out of the fight. I just felt paralyzed in my own mind and body. Finally, in July, I realized that I needed help. Mentally, I was at rock bottom, but I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t interested in doing in-person therapy because I struggle to open up to people in person right away. Through our insurance, I found numerous services that provide virtual therapy, and the best part was that I could apply filters to find someone I was comfortable with.

Finding a Therapist, First Sessions & Progress

I wanted a therapist who is a Christian and a man. I didn’t feel comfortable talking to a woman in that situation, and I wanted a Christian counselor because I felt that it would be important to have a similar faith background. Within an hour, I found someone I was interested in, scheduled an appointment, and filled out the initial consultation. In a week or so, I had my first session, which was quite awkward.

Prior to this, I had never sought help from a therapist, although I should have. My parents’ divorce, multiple traumatic incidents, and some general emotional events that I never dealt with were all examples of times that I should have spoken to someone. Because of that, I had no idea of what to expect. I originally thought that I’d be “healed” in five or so sessions and didn’t want to drag this thing out. Boy, was I wrong. The first session was a basic “get to know” Kyle meeting where we went over my expectations and goals, and I began to tell him about my background and why I was there. Besides the goals and expectations, that’s actually how my first few sessions went, and I’ve only recently started to move beyond the intake portion of therapy, but I’m seeing real progress.

My therapist has given me the tools needed to process and react to situations and events that trigger me. I didn’t know it, but my ability to handle triggering situations in a healthy manner was basically stripped down to zero. I would overreact to everything and be unaware of how my body and mind were reacting to situations in the moment. Not recognizing this, I would respond to lies that I was telling myself, and situations would blow up. These new tools helped me slow everything down, recognize the emotions and bodily reactions I was experiencing in a given moment, and process them so that I could have a healthy reaction that was rooted in reality instead of falsehood.

What I’ve Learned

I’ve learned so many things from therapy. One is that it’s okay to admit that you need help. That’s a cliché, but it’s true. Not being okay is okay, but you don’t want to stay there. The second thing is that it’s really easy to fall into bad patterns of mental health. I never intended to develop poor reactions to events. It was a slow process that happened over time. The third thing is that developing healthy patterns takes a lot of work. You have to rewire how your mind responds to situations. You’ll have setbacks, which can be disheartening, but it’s important to stick with it. And the last thing is that it’s all worth it. It’s a time and financial commitment, and it’s also going to hurt if you allow yourself to be transparent with your therapist, but being healthy again is completely worth it.

And one more thing. Let’s call it an honorable mention. And this is for my fellow Christians who are having mental health struggles: Don’t let anyone tell you that your struggles are the result of not praying enough or that you don’t have enough faith. God is able to do anything and can solve a person’s struggles without any effort from us. But sometimes, it’s important that we put in the work, meet with a professional, and be able to process what’s causing our struggles.

Don’t Be Afraid to Get Help & Learning to Love Life Again

I started this post by talking about the stigma surrounding men and their mental health. Society is a much safer space for guys to have serious conversations about their mental health, but the sigma is still present. There are plenty of men (and women) who think guys are weak for seeking help with their mental health. If you’re struggling with mental health and would like to speak to someone but are concerned about how someone would view you, you owe it to yourself to get yourself help. Oftentimes, people aren’t as abrasive as we think they’ll be. But if you have a friend who would make fun of you or speak negatively of you wanting to get yourself help, you deserve better friends.

Now, let’s get this back to the garden. I struggled to find joy in the garden in spring and early summer. That began to change after talking to my therapist. It wasn’t instantaneous, but in August, I began to feel like myself again. I began to let the little things that went wrong in the garden go. We could only do so much to prevent the deer and other critters from getting into the garden, and it was wonderful to walk the garden and see the progress of our pumpkins. I also began to find joy in my favorite hobbies. I started the coffee table project and finished it in a (personal) record amount of time. Things are really beginning to look up, and I feel optimistic for the first time in a long time. I hope that if you are struggling with your mental health that you find someone you feel safe with and help yourself. You owe it to yourself. Your life is invaluable, and you deserve to live it to its fullest.

0

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.

I Found A Local Yarn Store!

sheep in a field

If you have been following my blog this year, you will know that I was feeling a bit frustrated, that I didn’t have a local yarn store to turn to after Joann closed – but that’s no longer the case! I found a local shop thanks to the Yarn Discovery Tour of North Eastern Ohio. How wonderful is that!

As a Western Pennsylvania resident, it was a little bit of a drive, but not too far to visit the lovely Three Sheep Gallery and Workshop of Boardman, Ohio. This yarn shop had so much for me and my mom to check out – spinning wheels, weaving looms, yarn brands galore, project kits, needles, hooks, etc. I picked up a sock kit with a superwash merino and nylon blend fingering weight yarn that is self-striping. I was excited to try this sock kit because it came with a free pattern from Urth Yarns. This sock pattern has been full of surprises, some good and some challenging. It is a toe-up sock pattern, based on traditional Turkish sock design.

I’ve never made a toe-up sock before, I’m excited to learn new techniques, but here is where I am struggling. I bought double-pointed needles, on recommendation for sock knitting, and they are wonderful needles, but dang, the combo of a new sock technique and new tools has been frustrating. I’m getting laddering on the sock every time I start over, and I feel a bit on the edge of tears because these needles were expensive – 21 USD! On top of the sock kit for 29 USD for 100 grams of yarn and a PDF pattern. I feel a lot of pressure, from my own mind, because I was not paying attention to the price and feel like I made a mistake, but I need to remember that new skills take time. With patience and practice, the skill will come in time.

The second project I purchased was a scarf kit with two yarn hanks of worsted weight wool and a pattern from Urth Yarns, that my mom also purchased so we will have matching scarves! I’m so excited. The biggest blessing of this day was the opportunity to share what I love with my mom, my Scott, and my Kyle. I am truly grateful for all that these guys did to make this a great day of bonding for my mom and I, and for the four of us. It’s been a heavy few weeks after losing our beloved Sully, and getting a day to explore a new yarn store, learn about weaving, and getting to meet the lovely owner of Three Sheep was a bright spot after days of gray.

3

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?

#76 – Boredom in 2025

The biggest trend I think I’ve seen this year is the sentiment that everything feels boring right now. Whether it is fashion, film, or books, the art of storytelling is supposedly dead. This phenomenon has even crept into my unpredictable and exciting world of K-pop, and up until yesterday, I’d say I agreed. But as I sit here, I would like to put forth a different thesis.

Escapism from the Super Massive Blackhole

What if everything feels boring because you are running on empty? This year was the first time since discovering K-pop in 2022 that I felt bored and indifferent to my favorite bands. Some of this was due to outside forces beyond my control, like controversies, military service, and straight-up evil in the case of Taeil. Yet, some of this boredom, I believe, was caused by how much I was leaning on these safe spaces to find joy when nothing felt joyful or safe. There has been a constant pulse of uncertainty, like tectonic tremors, making us all question the point of it all. There is such a dreary air. A hopelessness, especially in people my age and younger, who are not able to reach milestones due to broken systems. Since I discovered the band Stray Kids, I run to their music for a safe place. But in 2025, I had stretches of time where even SKZ had no appeal. I had listened to every release over and over again until even their most addictive tracks had no appeal. I couldn’t believe how much I was craving a new album until a week before Karma released. As the week progressed, I could feel a hunger for a happy distraction. This year has been the first time my usual pick-me-ups have felt numb, and I wonder if one prong of this boredom we seem to be feeling isn’t coming from this exact situation.

To be honest, I think this could be why K-pop Demon Hunters exploded in popularity; it was new and fun when things seemed darker than ever. Same thing with Twice and their Lollapalooza performance, it was a night where everything felt normal for a second.

Have I Entertained You?

This attention economy is reminding me of that iconic line from Gladiator, and I don’t like what it is doing to art, music, storytelling, fashion, all of it. There is no room to reflect and craft something beautiful. We are pushing things too fast. I’ve been reflecting on this for a while. I see commentary on trends, relating to fashion, which usually goes something like – there is nothing new, everything and nothing is trending, yada, yada, yada. Sprinkle in a bit about clothing quality from the past, and the brain rot of the algorithm, which is killing creativity and subcultures because of a curated vitality. Like it’s a beast unleashed upon modernity, instead of stopping to think critically about it.

It’s obvious after some consideration that making things for vitality is not the same as making something to stand the test of time. Modern romance novels are being created for TikTok vitality first, and quickly, to keep up with the lazy decision of publishing houses to invest in AI over true writers. We blame the current author pool for a lack of creativity instead of holding publishing houses accountable for ruining their reputation through unethical practices. Because, truly, as an author, why would you feel inspired to create a story like Jane Austen when this is the current state of publishing? You could make a true work of art, and be rejected because they would rather steal work to create the same story through AI, or the publisher doesn’t want to take a chance on a good story when the algorithm is fickle and shallow.

Boring People Are Bored

AI is doing exactly what I expected; lazy people are becoming lazier, except that it is currently being rewarded. We used to know how to entertain ourselves. We used to know how to create, enjoy, and take pleasure in things, but I think AI is a snare that is making people boring, and it doesn’t have to. AI is an easy way out of daily life. It can be a friend, a relationship you don’t have to nurture, but is hollow. It can create art, but you will have no artistic skill of your own as a result. It can write you a book, without telling a story. It can create a music video, like JUMP for Blackpink, without any effort from the actual talent, and create a nightmare image of Rose with Jungkook’s facial structure. Do you see the pattern? It’s like cheating your way through school; it produces nothing and wastes precious resources, like time, or in the case of AI, drinking water and electricity.

Cringe > Innovation

What I have seen as the most flagrant accusation of boredom has been the dissonance of innovation and cringe. Let’s take, for example, Ceremony. It’s a song that has no chorus until the end of the song. It’s layered, has high production value, and features something new for Stray Kids and boy band offerings. But what do I see online? It’s awful. Stray Kids are braggy and loud, no talent. K-pop is boring; everything sounds the same. Except, Stray Kids, it’s too experimental. No wait, it sounds like all their other songs, yawn….etc. How can we have the audacity to complain about being bored while we punish bands for taking risks? It’s not just Stray Kids, I have seen similar criticism being launched at Nmixx, NCT, Ateez, Twice, Aespa…the list goes on.

It’s no different when it comes to the world of fiber arts. People complain about how crochet and knitting are getting boring and want new things to make, because everyone is knitting the same things, yet don’t branch out from a few massive pattern makers, like Sari Noorland, Petite Knit, and Andrea Mowry, to name a few. There are so many smaller creators crafting joyful patterns that would disrupt the slump, but no one wants to stand out these days.

I think as this year enters its final act, we should decide what we value more: being entertained? Or being authentic? Do you want to truly discover something new? Do you want to dig deeper for something fresh? It requires us to act, to search, and to participate, because we are allowing ourselves to become boring people, and it is spreading across culture, where it will stay unless we choose to be interesting again. I get it. This year has been demoralizing, and it’s made me feel like giving up many times, but there is always a reason to keep going. What if your big idea is the thing that makes this dull and dreary world sparkle again? You could be the change we need, so stop scrolling and find something that ignites passion in your heart once again!

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.

Unmasking is Hard

The term “unmasking” was new to me when I first learned of my neurodivergence. I saw it on Pinterest and Instagram, displayed in captions and little relatable memes, but what did it mean?

I felt the full experience of what it means a few nights ago when I was invaded once again by rising anxiety, flooding through my mind, and this pressure, invisible yet firm, closing in on me. I knew deep down that I was close to having a meltdown, from environmental things that a neurotypical would brush off. I also knew that I couldn’t melt down; it wasn’t safe to be me. I couldn’t stim, that would be looked down upon with pity. I had to put on that mask, the normal-brained facade I’ve studied my whole life to become invisible and just blend into the sea of normies.

I feel this pressure to mask the most when I am interacting with my family. My mom and her side, for a brief time, my dad and his side. It’s a quagmire, being the offspring of two very domineering, neurotypical, narcissistic humans.

It’s a lot of work. Why am I sharing this? Because if you feel this way, you are not alone. I see you. I support you. I am rallying for you and I to make it through these moments holding space for us to be as we are, and to feel like we are enough. We don’t need to be fixed, we need to cope with this wild world that doesn’t understand us.

Like an ill-fitting garment, the clothes are the problem not your body. Your brain is not the problem, the world favors one way of doing things and that doesn’t make it right. Being louder doesn’t make your point more correct. There is nothing wrong with who you are and who you were created to be.

I hope wherever you are, this finds you well. That you are safe, loved, valued, and being kind to yourself. The world needs more kindness. Know that I love you and support you. Take the mask off, breathe, stim, and find peace.

Until next time ❤

Phone Calls in the Smartphone Era

As a Zillennial, on the cusp of both Gen Z and Millennials, my generation(s) have been stereotyped by the older folks as being afraid of phone calls, preferring a text to a voice on the other end of the line. And for a while, I’d say, yeah, I fell into this place of preferring a text as a teenager or chatting online, in my moody, insecure teenagedom, but then the phone call became this novelty of a thing. Calling someone seemed so serious, I became apprehensive if my question or answer was “serious” enough to warrant a call.

I didn’t want to be a burden, which is such a strange upside-down world from childhood, when the phone was the only way to contact your friends. I remember in the days of late elementary school, email being another exciting tool to communicate, like letters, but now email has become an intrusive contact on my smartphone. And maybe, that’s because email felt like real mail, when you could only check it on your window of computer time on the shared family computer. There was a boundary between online and offline. My mind has been marinating on this since watching a Theresa Yea video called, Why the Internet Will Never Be Cool Again.

I’m currently stuck in an endless game of phone tag, which is quite common when I am talking regularly to one of my parents. With my dad, it was a long game of waiting for that perfect window of nothingness. His layover in a city he found boring, I’d keep him company as he complained about life. Entertaining him and supporting him in his time of boredom, because if he were home, he was on the go every single moment. If I needed him, he would usually call me back on a drive home with a small set window for his attention span or horrible service.

My mom, in a similar fashion, gets stuck in these loops going non-stop. Except she answers the phone in loud restaurants, in the car, or at events, just to tell me that she is not available. She will even talk to other people around her, making me wait, or will pass the phone to the people she is with, as if I want to say hi to them when I really just wanted to converse with her about something important.

There is nothing like being on the brink of a panic attack and having your mom pass you to an acquaintance to say hi instead of listening to your crisis. Especially when you called because you thought they were home and available, but really, your loved one is always on the go. Not emotionally available. I hate calling and being met with passive-aggressive pressure to stop talking and let her go, even though she chose to answer the phone and enter into conversation like she was available at first, only to break that illusion as soon as you answer “how you are doing”. Read the room, kid, but honestly, how can I? This is particularly confusing when my parents both let me know how they would prefer me to live closer so I would be more available, but would it matter?

The video call and the text have become two of the most intrusive manners of communication, because a text should be responded to promptly and a video call, in her mind is perfectly normal to answer in a public setting like a restaurant or car without letting me know before I speak, what I believe I am saying in private to a person who is available to talk, to be swiftly gotcha-ed by the fact that I am not alone, and my privacy is not respected. The video call is like a two-edged sword; it is nice to connect with friends and family over long distances, but it is also a tool that hinders connection. It drops in unannounced and forces conversations that should be private to be open to the room.

I crave the dedicated correspondence of my grandma’s era, when she moved to another town, which meant that calling her mom would be categorized as long distance, and so she and her mom wrote letters to each other every day. I haven’t had that kind of connection with my mom since she got remarried, and I miss that feeling of connection, of being heard. It’s something that carried through my Grandma and my Aunt Florence’s generation, my phone calls with them being so intentional and full of connection. It was a visit, a catch-up, and was treated with hard boundaries. The common thread here is the lack of a smartphone.

Phones were still seen as tools to converse, not mini-computers full of distractions. I find this intentionality coming back to conversations I have with my friends; there are boundaries and moments set aside to converse without distractions. We have planned phone calls or dedicated pauses to set aside other tasks to write longer messages, like letters, through messaging apps. It has improved our communication and respect for each other’s time, in a way that I wish I could have with my parents. I just want to connect and not be connected. I want to converse and not call. I want to correspond and not text.

It is all a pipe dream, because this is never going to happen, they are just too enamoured with technology and the endless possibilities of their boomer generation, and the financial leg up that their generation has to be on the go and do things nearly constantly. We live in two different worlds, and that makes me sad.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑