Cerebral Miscommunications

         My body is a bad communicator. My brain never communicates in advance to let me know when it's planning to break down. My body also likes to fuse issues. An example my brain will decide it's time for my back to spasm, which on its own is annoying, as it makes turning and bending hurt, but on its own can be ridden out. Yet when my brain combines back spasms and joint pain, we get a system overload. It might seem that system overload is an exaggeration, but it isn't.
           My brain is always processing and working with many different realities and thoughts. I have channels that focus on school, work, my eating disorder when I can control it, takes only one channel. Of course, I have my body channel. My CP channel. My CP channel is in charge of the uncontrollable shakes, random aches, and pains, loss of sensation and just an overall uncontrollable control over my body.  I control my CP channel some of the time, I can type, write, walk, grasp objects, some of the time. Sometimes my CP channel splits it lets me type, yet sends my legs into the uncontrollable shakes while giving me back spasms. I think the CP channel uses a randomizer to decide what it feels like shaking up. (Yes I went there with the dad joke),
      In conclusion, when you see me making funny faces, or move in weird motions when we talk or when we interact, it just means my Cerebral Palsy has taken over the reins, and I'm just along for the ride. My shakes aren't contagious and I prefer you don't ask me to stop them, I might be able to sometimes, but understand it's most of the time just cerebral miscommunications. 

Depressions Playground

The great depressive slug. This is how society likes to portray depression. As if it's a slow constant moving slug of sadness, that slides over you and holds court. The reality is little slugs full of potent depressive poison that get rained down upon your path of life and when you get caught by one you freeze up in anxiety while burning up in despair leaving you frozen in ashes.

The storm always seems like it came out of nowhere but storms always brew when the sun is out. The slugs come out when the weather changes when the winds of change and uncertainty blow through the desert of stability. The mirage of stability parches your soul; leaving dreams to die scorched by illusions of freedom.

Snakes of dreams slither through the sand of expectations, rearranging their ideas into plans of independent creation. The lack of ability to look up to the storm clouds creates flash flooding funerals of aspirations. Slugs claim martyrdom to justify their cause, fueled by ashes of despair mixed with the poison of depression.

Depression is the entire desert filled with different options to embody depending on the person, place, and time.

Mind Mines

Careful where you step when visiting my mind. There are no signs and when you step on a mine, my mind flies back to a cell block you never knew existed. The cell barely fits your chained heart and brain, let alone space to be. The cell walls are perfect for thoughts to bounce off the walls, and right when you think they have disappeared; they regain their chokehold. The thoughts don't march in looking for a place to be, they buddy up with good memories, ideas, and feelings. After they arrive they band together and kill off their competition. There is no need for them to multiply as bad feelings work better with space, they create a dance. The dance is choreographed by self-hate the unofficial leader of the crew, due to his veteran time spent in my mind. The music buries my cries for help escaping the maze of my mind, yet the thoughts deafen my ears to hear any response. The maze of mind my mind with no entrance or exit to be seen.

Finding a New Fitness Journey

I didn't realize that for a while now I have been shooting myself in the foot with my fitness journey. People ask me what I'm up to sport wise and I have always answered that I'm getting back to it. I realized my mental block was not the fitness aspect rather the fact that I kept telling myself I was going to get back to a previous physical state. My mind and physical reality then made me give up before I even started as I felt getting back to competitive rowing was an impossible dream for a variety of factors.
I need to create a new path with new goals and different aspirations, finding a healthy balance between body image, health, fitness, sport, and all around balance in my life with work and college. Super simple right, I wish. Finding new goals and breaking them down into step by step actions to reach a new healthy place in my body is what I'm starting with first. While this is far from the end and where I want to be physically, working on mentally saying where am I heading on this new fitness journey rather than trying to get back to a vision of grandeur that I remember myself being, walk a new path and create an actual healthy future without it being tied into the Paralympics.
Goals and competitiveness don't have to equal Paralympics there are many opportunities in between that I can find and create. The most important goal I have right now is to get into a healthy state of being both my body and mind and from there I'll see.

Makeup, An Inner Power Behind the Brush

Self-care and self-love sometimes intertwine, they create this addicting high when you look into the mirror and like the reflection looking back at you. The shattering of that mirror leaves you bleeding dry of self.
I used to think that putting on makeup was people telling something to the world. Only recently did I realize, while sitting in front of a mirror, for a makeup lesson, that the makeup that I thought was a mask hiding the person from the world, was a shield preparing us for battle with ourselves and the world.
It wasn't about hiding the imperfections (although it was nice to make it look like I had slept in the past two weeks), rather it was exploring enhancing another aspect of my body. Somehow, while I was figuring out how to put makeup on my eyes without being able to keep one eye open and one eye closed. I learned to laugh at my ambidextrous hands and the ability to put makeup on both eyes with both hands. I learned to trust my hands and sense of touch to create follow the map I've created in my mind.
The more I learned, the more I felt a sense of belonging emerge. Both in the adult woman's world and in myself. Some may claim that I don't need makeup, that my face is pretty without it, thanks I'm not putting on makeup because I think I'm ugly. I'm choosing to put makeup on as it makes me smile at myself in the mirror even when my body is in agonizing pain. The more I learned the more I felt I could counter Eddy's constant harmful remarks. I don't know how helpful makeup will be every time Eddy comments on trying to get me to stop eating or binge, but I do know that I have gained another tool in my toolbox.

The Pressure of Imagined Perfection

I started a new job. That's a story in itself, but for another time. This is a great job, as while its up my ally it's also super challenging in a great way using mostly unused skills I have.  While teaching me many more skills in different areas of my life. I also have just amazing bosses and love the staff I work with. But I've noticed as well as my bosses that sometimes when I get flustered during a certain part of the job, I can sometimes spiral way further than the small issue that actually went wrong, the innate pressure for perfection. The pressure that leads me to blank out from the pressure that the next words I say must be the perfect ones. Once I realized the pressure that leads to blank minds, I was able to say to myself, before I started the next conversation to relax and leave it as a conversation.
    My sick voice seems to love perfection more than anything, even me. My sick voice paints a picture of perfection, trying to convince me its not a mirage. The pressure levels up with each action I feel I am not doing right, whether that's eating breakfast before 9 or working with no questions. This pressure of perfection is paralyzing,I haven't figured out how to not freeze all the time,but the first step I've found is saying and labeling another aspect of my sick voice. The more you label and remove from the shadows removes the sick voice from having this fog over your entire life,so I'm going to keep clearing up more fog and labeling,till next time.

Fast Falling Lows

The lows. As much as you know they are coming as you enjoy the high, they somehow still manage to hit me like a ton of bricks. The lows manage to cut off my anchors to basic joy and make everything feel bleak again. It doesn't matter that I knew at some point they were going to shut down my party of happiness and inner calm, what surprised me was where they came from. The lows hide in the family, but more so for me, they hide in people doing things, basic things like going out to meet up and planning a quick getaway with friends. Even though I had a productive week, and have a somewhat busy week ahead the monster claiming you aren't doing enough, and your not worthy of friends comes raging back to the surface. The lows know how to tell you all the things that make doing anything in life seem not worth it, even sleeping. Low creates this zone in between zombie and alive, its when you can binge watch lots of television but not remember a single thing you've seen. It will make sleep seem like the worst thing in the world as why would you want a tomorrow?? The lows are writing this themselves, you'd think they'd want better representation but they seem to enjoy the sorrows.

Listening to the Voices

Not all voices are bad, some are like street signs in life, evaluate and continue on. Not all voices in your head are bad. Sometimes the voice that tells you "it's too much, your overwhelmed" is a helpful voice. Finding the voice, and distinguishing it from the sick voice can be hard. Sometimes the thought can be processed on your own and sometimes bouncing it off a friend helps clarify the voice. The first urge is to get rid of the uncomfortable voice, as it makes you feel like your drowning in quicksand. Once you allow yourself to be swallowed in deep enough in the sticky brown sand; then you start the process and actually work through the uncomfortable feeling. Rather than running away, the panic sent by the sick voice actually starts to subside. Then the voice takes you on a journey you don't think you can survive; the lack of air in the tunnel of quicksand starts a spiral of panic. A voice shouts survival dreams reverberating through the darkness, Bouncing off the glacial tears freezing on my face. The dreams look like fireflies of fairy lights creating a map out to the mountain range of dreams. The voices are options to reroute and find your way back to your trail of truth in life.

Finishing A Safe Space

Rehab, when you start, doesn't feel like a safe place. The hospital feels foreign and the schedule forced. Lots of faces, names, and rules. I felt bad feeling out of place, and for having a hard time as I voluntarily put myself there. I'm also just notoriously bad at first impressions and connecting with people. The first night didn't really bother me, but while I felt comfortable in my room on my own, sitting in the shared spaces with lots of other adults freaked me out. The dining room was the worst, it was absolutely the antithesis of a safe space. We sat around different groups of tables, eating mostly similar food for 40 minutes at every meal.  One of the biggest issues of an eating disorder is eating with others, as its usually you don't eat alone or you eat way too much. The tension in the dining room is constant, each person has their own demons they're fighting, depending on peoples personalities and where they are on their journey they try to help others. Over two months, the dining room didn't become my favorite spot, and not a constant safe space, but more times than not, most of the time I spent in the dining room, I felt I was in a safe space. An internal safe space doesn't mean emotions don't exist, it means you recognize the emotions and have enough space to let them be or choose to process them. A safe space doesn't have to be forever, contrary to how we are raised and the thoughts we are led to believe that safety is forever. It takes growing up and living in safe places and moments, to learn from them when they are there but to not freak out when they disappear rather use the energy you gained in the safe space to create and find the next safe space.

The Uncontrollable Shakes

The shakes, some people might associate them with drug withdrawal, for me its a side effect of my disability. The side might be a good term for it although it alternates, the shakes are very indecisive. They come and go as they please; they mostly just alternate jumping from leg to the other leg. They have convinced my sick voice that it's healthy, and a good way to get through eating regular meals. I have come to love and loathe the shakes, they have gotten me out of really boring college classes, but have also made me leave training early; making me feel like I failed or rather my body failed me.
Now some might think that uncontrollable shakes leading to body failure is extreme, I mean my heart and lungs work perfectly fine. What people seem to forget is that brains are a major organ, and yes I'm not having seizures or in a coma, there is a rather large and life bothering issue.
One of the biggest issue with the shakes is that they are mostly invisible in the beginning, so when I wake up and put my feet on the ground,y'know whatcha do in the morning, my breath catches as my feet hit the ground and I start to try and stand up, the uncertainty, or if my body will stay upright or, if I'm just going to collapse on the floor. Yes, I'm sure I'm far from the only person who deals with uncertainty, but how much does the average person deal with before they have brushed their teeth?? It is a huge part of the hardship of accepting your own body when you're not sure when you can trust it. It's not as if I wake up to memos from my body letting me know which parts are going to work when. (By the way, if there are any scientists coming up with something like this, I volunteer as tribute.) Till then I'll just have to shake with the shakes and ride the earthquakes of my body.

Oceans of Routine

Routine, the monotony of it. The repetitiveness of the oar dipping in the water. The bounce of the ball, the screech of rubber tires. The shake of my legs, some people think its annoying, I used to as well; now its what calms me down in most situations. Routine outside helps keep me afloat in the whirlpool that is my mind. Routine is my anchor in chaos.
When the waters agitate and the chains get ripped from the core, leaving me floating and thrashing towards the surface of the unknown; I don't know how to reroute and follow my dreams to another path. My dreams lose hold of their core, leading to distorted visions of the future. It is not always a huge internal storm that knots the chains in unbreakable bonds of confusion it can be one small thought that wiggles through the boards of certainty stirring up sleeping monsters.
The question is if you can find new chains to bond with the old and find a new galaxy to dream your way through the ocean of uncertainty.

Giving up on Yourself

It's an interesting idea; giving up on yourself. Everyone usually assumes that means you want to kill yourself, to me it can mean that but for me, it is more so punishing my entire body for actions of parts of my body. When I refuse to eat or binge from physical pain, I'm not removing the physical pain just making my mind travel, to where it's out of control in a place I feel more comfortable with. Most of the time the constant physical pain leads to the simple yet harmful place of giving up on moving my body. The dream of wanting to compete and push myself and my body to the absolute limit; dismantles itself daily the more times I wake up in constant pain that no one and no tests can explain why.
It's hard to dream when slowly every single rope connected to an anchor of my dreams that keep me flying in the right direction gets sautered; leaving nothing but shreds in its wake. The ocean stirs into whirlpools, sending any ideas spraying in the wind leaving you drowning in the eye of silence.

The Cycle of Acceptance

 While feelings come and go, I thought that once I had "accepted" myself, my disability (the only things I thought I had left to accept) I would be done needing to accept things in life and I could go on conquering the world. Turns out life does NOT work that way. Acceptance and change are like magnets that have the same charge, the closer you try to push them together the farther apart they reach. This phenomenon leads to feeling like you never move on in life as you hit upon the same issues. 

You have hit the same feelings in a different setting, like hitting the same point on a spiral just one level up, with new tools and self-understanding can lead you to create a new level of acceptance. That's not a simple action to take, and it will feel like you are getting nowhere, but you have to be willing to be in that uncomfortable state of taking the ground out from underneath yourself in order to dig deeper and build new or better foundations on which to continue your life. Digging up old skeletons on unbalanced feet is never easy but, with the new tools you have acquired in between the previous dealing with the issues gives you a better chance at creating longer lasting foundations this time around.

30 things I learned in my first 30 days in rehab

1. The walls that surround your castle of a soul; fall down fast, but even faster with the right psychologist.
2. Naming voices in your head is healthy, and while it strengthens them momentarily it gives you the start of tearing them down.
3. Being around lots of people doesn't invalidate your feelings of being alone, and sometimes even helps rid the feeling.
4. Relationships with food, yourself, and others get more complicated before it gets easier.
5. The fear of bordream really comes from the fear of being alone with yourself and your boxes in the attic of your mind.
6. Group therapy isn't as scary as it seems and while judging is normal;you can also feel validated and less alone.
7. Mandated eating with people is terrifiying;but everyone has personal issues and sitting around the same table makes it easier rather than harder.
8. The wall of "not caring&feeling" leads to so much more pain;just feel in each moment.
9. Just because you thought you got over hating yourself and disability doesn't invalidate the feelings from returning.
10. Slowing down and actually chewing food;to alieviate feelings of hunger is incredibly hard for me.
11. I have more OCD tendincies then I'd like to admit;and Ed enhances them with my eating habits.
12. I feel worse around fat people as I feel like I fit in,which then leads me to remove myself from interactions with them.
13. Ed controls a lot of my all or nothing personality part of me. 
14. I use sleep as an escape tool rather then sitting and proccessing my feelings.
15. Sport is a double edged sword for me and I have not yet learned to enjoy the training without feeling like I have to restrict to look better and be stronger.
16. The more you open up and process;leaves you with more space to do other things.
17. Reading is hard when it can't quiet your mind.
18. Music is salve for my soul; and when I forget that, I pay.
19. You are allowed to love and feel the loss from things that you used to have.
20. The waves of feelings come and go;embrace the highs and lows,but don't try to ride the dead wave.
21. Normal and crazy are defined by you,when you define yourself as crazy it enhances the panic.
22. The clearer your sense of self the less you need to be alone to feel like yourself.
23. Not everyones journey intersects and it doesn't invalidate any of the journeys.
24. Just because a tool has worked in the past does not mean it has to work now.
25. Feel phsyical pain;even if you can't understand why and how to fix it;its less angering.
26. You are enough every single minute of every single day.
27. Mess ups are part of the process;embrace them and learn,and grow from them.
28. Regulation takes a while for your body;numbers are not everything.
29. There are more fears in your mind then at the meeting.
30. On your own time;change will come don't rush it,but don't be afraid to try.

Chew,Chew Swallow

Who knew that chew chew swallow would be so complicated?? Who know that Eddy controlled that as well. The never ending vacum that Eddy created skips over the chewing proccess.Leaves you feeling like you havent eaten anything convincing your mind and body that you need more food. I didn't know how hard it was to slow down until I tried; and realized it was Eddy not wanting me to sit and chew. He just wants me to inhale;to constantly feel empty so he can keep running the show his way. I haven't figured out what show Eddy is trying to run, I mean I know its the classic binge,don't eat,shame,repeat cycle; but where does Eddy start and finish his work? And how many minions does he have working for him? Eddy has many shapes and colors;most of which I havent figured out yet. Well for now I guess I'll just keep trying to practice chewing and slowing down while I do so.

Socks,Shoes & Me

Shoes, I didn't understand how complicated of a relationship I had with them, and how much they mean to me. Acknowledging feelings is a process I have been working on with my psychologist in rehab, and one of the first "stones" in front of the path to my palace of a brain is shoes and what they mean to me. Shoes were something that from a very young age I was never able to wear the same style as my peers. I always have worn braces on my feet which led me to wear clunky shoes that never felt feminine or actually looked good. I always felt that my legs were just robotic additions and weren't part of me; rather they made me feel less like a person and a specifically a woman. My feet also sometimes are super uncomfortable in shoes when I have muscle spasms and swelling, so the relationship is complex. I do enjoy sneakers but when it comes from choice rather than necessity. I would love the option to wear strappy heels, sandals, and boots.
Socks,socks are my jam. I love ankle socks and I love wearing mismatched socks. It was one of the first steps I felt I took towards independence and showing my true colors back in the 7th grade. I love the randomness and the fun of choosing different socks every morning (not to mention the lack of having to pair socks which is something out of nightmares :) Socks also stick around without being too tight and let my feet have their weird twitches, without bothering me too much. I also love feeling the warmth of the ground specifically wooden planks. Its like hearing the world with my feet. Socks give me the chance to forget most of the things that make me hate my feet, for that I'm thankful. Well that's the weird relationship I have with shoes

Emotions in Rehab

Emotions are like the weather; and nature. They change at the brush of pain, the rise of a wave of depression. Plenty a time they combine into a tornado of confusion resulting in a choking reaction that you can't shake. Boxes are dug out of bunkers covered in poisonous snakes and scorpions. Shadows of demons that cant be shook whisper to each other, creating hollow shrieks of horror. Some boxes are worn through their contents showing through, others untouched a still perfection of dread frozen in time. Indents in the dusty floor show the history of martyrs trying to clean up what they believed could have been disinfected from the horrors of life. The problem with trying to clean up the attic is that you get stuck and get suffocated from the new boxes that constantly arrive without end, never mind the emotional weather sun, rain, or storm. Muffled sounds can be heard creating a symphony of history to bury any ideas of a future without them.

Monday Day #1 of ED Rehab

       Leaving the house was stressful; it didn't help that I could barely fall asleep before my anxiety woke me up again. I ran into my mother as I was leaving the house,I didn't understand all of my own reasons for not being able to tell her at that moment where I was going but, a big one ended up being the need for me to make this choice completely on my own. Even though ED spent the entire night and morning yelling at me that I am fine and don't need rehab. Another weird yet helpful for rehab quirk is that new beginnings and adventures excite me more than they terrify me in the beginning. So jumping out is not when I freak out, rather in freefall halfway down-but more on that another time.
      After arriving at the hospital and getting to the entrance to the Eating Disorder ward, that's when the first wave of panic hit, and the overwhelming desire to run washed over me. Deep breathing and staring way to hard at the non-descript hospital art helped me put on my "everything's fine" mask.
Panic doesn't set in when you open the door, as the adrenalin wave crashes over you with the new sights and smells. Then the non-stop meetings with every possible doctor, nurse, psychologist, and dietician keeps the wave going till you hit your bed at night.
    What did all these people ask?? Well, some profession-specific questions yet mostly it was what happened in your life to make you want to take this step and come here? Now two years ago I would have just blacked out and had nothing to answer but thanks to a special voice on the phone who taught me to tell my story so many times that it no longer hurt to say it. (Shoutout to Dougie) While I couldn't tell everything to everyone I was able to get out most of my history without cracking the fake facade.
      New room and roommate weren't the hard part of acclimating, rather meeting all the other wonderful strong people there was a lot. As someone with pretty bad social anxiety, sitting in a large dining room with lots of tables and people eating, and people watching you eat as well; that's what terrified me. Eating with people and people watching you; puts the demons in the spotlight and while they love center stage ,I am not good at being a wallflower.
Till next time Sam

Prelude to Day #1

Prelude to Day #1
Yea-I've got classical music on my mind.One of the best parts of my childhood so far. So what is it a prelude for? Well-Rehab. You might be confused as the first thought that probably comes to mind are alcohol and drugs. Well for me food is a twisted drug, which morphs into different problems at different points of time. In short, I have an eating disorder.  I know I'm obese and that's partly because I love food and flavors, but I have serious compulsions regarding eating; where, when, and how many voices do I have to fend off saying not to eat.
The problem is the voices that fight, oscillate between not letting me even drink water and triggering a blackout binge. The blackout binge is pretty much cookie monster running on a treadmill of flavors from salty, sweet, crunchy, sour; without much thought being allowed to stop the run. It's a weird type of mindless-mostly like my mind closes the curtains on my conscious stage and lets the cast of demons and angels play.
I realized a few months ago that I could no longer keep letting the voices run around unattended and needed to find better tools in which to train myself. I started the process by finding the main doctor for ED and met with him privately.Then under his guidance and discussions, we decided the best course of treatment was to start with some inpatient time. Now mind you I'm in the ward as I type this so the prelude is a little bit late but it took me a minute to be able to share.
I haven't told my parents in part as I feel responsible for helping keep the family equilibrium, and in some sense to hurt them for being part of the problem.I know no one can fix me that's on me but maybe by sharing with others they can get help and I can grow as well. So this is my letter to the world and my parents. Dreaming larger in smaller doses will hopefully get me far.
                                    Dreamer-from the ED ward at Tel Hashomer

1st Pat on My Back

I'm finally posting as a pat on my back tonight. After actually using the tools that I have chosen to help myself I see long-term changes that make me happy. Firstly, I think, I'm a week through prep exams for the psychometri.  Which means every day sitting for 4 hours doing practice exams then, the harder part of checking how well I did and what my score is. Breaking down into parts what I'm proud of myself for tonight.

1. I'm proud of training my mind to be able to focus just on the task at hand. Each individual problem on paper, and in life and not let myself get overwhelmed and frozen.

2, I'm proud of realizing my fear of failure and letting myself down. As well as the pressure that I put on myself to succeed to get into college. Then, removing that pressure (mostly), from checking the exams, and leaving numbers as numbers, not my entire future.

3, Not using my disability as an excuse to why I don't feel well on a variety of days. Leaving the reasons and just working with what I've got that day.

4. Being able to read an email from a family member which I love but usually feel super pressurized by. I realized and accepted that what was being said was from love and was able to respond without getting upset and worked up.

Now 4 hours after a tough exam, I actually feel calm. Even though my travel plans got complicated last moment, and I'm super tired, having a hard time sleeping. Just keep going, get help and find tools that work for you and keep going. Realize and take the time to pat yourself on the back. It makes the rest of your day better and builds up a healthy relationship with yourself.
Till next time
Sam

The Many Masks of Addictions

Addictions have many different masks and interchange frequently.  Sometimes so much so that you're not sure which mask on which demon your fighting to reign supreme over. When you eliminate a demon it never feels complete. For a while, you constantly feel on edge waiting for it to rear its ugly head. While time doesn't heal everything on its own, it can be helpful. The longer the demon is in a coma the less of a chance of it waking up. I have dealt and always will deal with many masks of addictions. Maybe writing them out will help me label their voices and learn to subdue them better. It is also very hard to talk about I've been trying to write this post for a while now but here it comes.

Addiction to pain- This has been my longest reigning addiction in my life, for so long it just seemed like the way life is and how it's handled. This mask has many different colors, shapes, and sizes.  Constantly differing to make you forget what your doing to your body is unloving and unhealthy. It doesn't always feel like an addiction. The label usually swims around without ever attaching itself to the mask. Yet the long-lasting talons it grips your mind with, and the promise of a calm red sea are constantly around.

A food/eating addiction- "The Art of the Binge" I'm pretty sure my mind could have written a series and I would have been a billionaire. The twists it contorts my mind into could earn it a gold medal. The thoughts have masks most of the time, sometimes they act like children and just yell "I want it all and want it all NOW". Most of the time different masks come and attack the core of the issues you're dealing with at that moment. Convincing yourself that what your doing is healthy for you. When its too impatient it erases all reason from your mind and keeps sending the response that you must eat it all now.

These are two of the biggest addictions that I have been dealing with for the majority of my lifetime. They come in waves usually not at the same time, the crest of one wave creates a suction for the next one to arise. Different surfboards work at different times. But sometimes you need a lifeguard to help get you back up, don't be afraid to accept the help to rise higher. There will be more details when I can let myself be open with myself and others, but for now, this is the first step.

Asking for help

Asking for help.

It feels like giving away a part of my independence. Reaching out, and handing my ability to get along in life on my own. Staking claims to my independence change as my disability evolves. But movement and mobility have always and will always be the cornerstone of my identity. For the longest time, I have felt, and most of the time still feel that I uproot myself entirely when I ask or accept help.

An important aspect of me accepting help comes from accepting my own limitations. Only once I have accepted my cage as a template for my life, can I create beauty within, and out. Comprehending, accepting and implementing the idea is a lot easier said than done. Roots grow in all shapes in any direction around the enclosure. All you need to do is take the chance and let the water reach the receptors.

Accepting help doesn't mean you cant grow on your own, rather accept showers of help when they come. Resulting in growing a reserve for when you have to mature independently. Taking doesn't have to mean that you have nothing to give rather if you take, then you can give more to others. While it feels like a one-way road; it's more like a highway. Removing the roadblocks then lead to more travel in both directions.

Blank Minds

Blank minds are never blank. It is what I tell myself when I don't want to evaluate what I'm blanking out.

It isn't very hard to find something else to occupy your mind. Random games on iPhones, reading books or scrolling through random feeds. You'd think books would do the trick. Yet they lead your mind down rabbit holes that empty out in the same cavern filled with crazy imagines. Imagines that you refuse to admit or entertain for fear that they become larger than life. Images and ideas blanked out for fear of achievement. Rather than entertaining dreams, wipe the chalkboard clean with rags of unfinished ideas.