If you can’t tell by anywhere else on this website, I’m SO into a boss bitch and story of a come up. My brother, Sullivan, and I recently sat down to watch “Knock Down the House” on Netflix. You need to watch this documentary.
It’s the story of four women and their fight for seats in Congress. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez who ran for New York’s 14th Congressional District which includes Queens and the Bronx – areas full of working class voters and minorities. Amy Vilela who ran for Nevada’s 4th Congressional District on a campaign that targeted the lack of affordable health care for workers in her community. Cori Bush, a candidate from Missouri’s 1st District, took on Lacy Cook a powerful Democratic incumbent. Last, but certainly not least, the documentary covers the race of Paula Jean Swearengin for a United States Senate seat representing West Virginia.
I’ve been on Twitter for about a decade. I read a lot of political articles and listen to all of the podcasts. I would love to say that I’m not biased, but I do seek out information and media outlets that report on those that I favor in primary, Congressional, and Presidential election. With a Bachelor’s in Political Science, I definitely walk around thinking that I know more than the average American. However, “Knock Down the House” made me reconsider everything I knew about politics.
We’re so used to political campaigns being these huge movements that we see on TV. We’re used to donations of millions of dollars being the foundation to getting anything we want. Usually, those that have that kind of money are corporations or lobbyists that don’t have the collective good in mind. Rather, it’s oil companies shelling out big bucks for votes in favor of fracking or against climate change.
About these political powerhouses
Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is known for getting criticism from coming from a life of serving and bartending to politics. However, the documentary shows just how much work goes into a grassroots campaign. While she’s not a millionaire and can’t quit her job, she must work even harder than others around the clock on campaign work.
Amy Vilela, a strong woman running in Nevada, does so to honor her daughter. Because the family lacked adequate health insurance, her daughter wasn’t able to get a necessary test that could have saved her life. Throughout the documentary, Amy runs on the stance that Americans should not have to misunderstand insurance, go in debt to afford insurance, or worry about the death of a family member so that someone in Corporate America can get rich.
Cori Bush takes on incumbent, Lacy Cook, whose family has served Missouri’s first district for many years. Though Cook is also a Democrat, Cori Bush hopes to amplify the voices of those who have gone unheard. Missouri’s 1st District is where Michael Brown, an 18-year old black citizen, was shot by a police officer. Political unrest after the shooting was watched by the entire world from its epicenter in Fergusson, MO. Cori Bush wants people to realize that being a Democrat doesn’t always mean that they’re fighting for the community. She wants to see serious change.
Lastly, Paula Jean Swearengin runs against a longstanding incumbent for one of West Virginia’s Senate seats. West Virginia continues to be torn apart by the government for coal and other natural resources. “If another country was doing this, we’d go to war,” she says about the destruction of mountains that are releasing toxins into the air and water. West Virginia has a high rate of cancers due to the exposure to these elements which are making the citizens die young. As someone who watched her father die too young of cancer, Paula Jean Swearengin uses passion and anger to try and change the tides.
My reaction
I was excited to watch “Knock Down the House” in general. Like I said, I love a strong woman and the story of an underdog. However, I was surprised by how moved I was at the conclusion of the film. I spent all of my higher education studying policies and campaigns that are shown in this documentary. These women break the barriers for what is expected in politics. Like most other parts of life, money speaks when it comes to voting and campaigning. These women aren’t worried about money, fame, or later reelection. They’re worried about the people within their communities.
I took this at a political rally when I was feeling a fire about politics. Look out, guys, it’s back.
This documentary reminded me what I believed politics to be before I studied a bunch of textbooks. It reminded me that people who want who see injustice and want to do good are always out there. Hope now surges through my muscles in a system I had given up on. It made me proud that behind every ambition to change the world is thousands of hours of work, people who support, and vote. Watching this documentary made me feel like I mattered in the world of politics.
If you haven’t watched this documentary yet, watch it. If you don’t have a Netflix account, get one just to watch this. It will change how you view the world of politics. “Knock Down the House” will be the light at the end of your political tunnel.
Have you watched this documentary? What did you think? Connect with me through any of the social media links below – let’s talk about it!
I told myself that I wasn’t going to write a blog about accepting internet hate until I had a full-on, blatant troll. I get a lot of passive comments from people who don’t really understand the complexities of mental health. My political posts are subject to debates at times. For the most part, though, people have been super supportive of me and my journey to blog for a living.
Recently, an internet troll got upset when I used #thickwhitegirl on one of my body positivity posts. Of all things that I could do to upset someone online, it was a hashtag. Who knew?
At first, I was a little taken aback by the comments. What does a comment like “girl, you ain’t thick,” mean? Anyone with working eyeballs can see that the post was not made to accentuate a tiny waist or thin legs. It was about accepting compliments because you always deserve them. You shouldn’t set standards of perfection for yourself before you allow yourself to feel a little hype.
I warned the user that my page is one exclusively for love. While it’s not part of my protocol to censor what others say, they were walking a thin line between speaking their mind and triggering those that support me. So many people came to comment lovely messages about my beauty, confidence, and content. There were people that I knew and those that I did not. Followers that I had previously interacted with and ones that I gained from the experience.
Body shaming isn’t fucking cool no matter who you are, what you look like, or what you think your credentials are. I’ve been down the whole fatphobic hater train before. In my experience, it’s usually something along the lines of how I’m glorifying obesity or unhealthy lifestyles. Let me make one thing abundantly clear here: being overweight isn’t healthy. When I post my pictures, I hope that what you take from it is body positivity, confidence, and a sense of acceptance. However, my health is something that I speak to my doctor about, rather than the trolls online. I’m not glorifying unhealthy lifestyles or obesity by saying that it is okay to find beauty in figures other than hourglass. Rather, I’m saying that if you want to get healthy, give a shit about your organs, or find motivation to work out, the first step is loving the skin you are currently in.
I’ve gotten in my fair share of Facebook fights circa 2013. A healthier mindset (and maybe a few therapy sessions) will teach you that the best way to respond to hate online is just to ignore it. It’s so hard. However, bullies thrive on the reactions of their victims. If there’s no reaction, they usually end up feeling stupid. You can also channel the queen of all queens, Michelle Obama.
“When they go low, we go high”
– Michelle Obama,
It’s easy to start spitting fire back. You have every ability in the world to choose confrontation in these moments. The people that we look up to, though, are the ones that can kill them with kindness even when they’re being ruthless.
Haters are always a triggering experience. They say stuff that we say in our heads when we’re having a bad day. They say it online for everyone to see. This user told me to lose 200 pounds. One, doing that would bring my weight to about that of a second grader… Two, those words aren’t just bullets shot at me. They shower down on anyone that comes across that post. That’s why I have such a problem here.
Anyone that came across the comments of that post ran the risk of being extremely anxious about their body image. It doesn’t take a diagnosed illness to see someone spewing hatred and reflect it into our own lives. However, those who struggle with body dysmorphia or eating disorders were especially at risk.
Internet trolls and real-life haters have a way of projecting their own insecurities onto others. In this case, that user probably saw that I had confidence in the photo and lacked their own. People place their discomfort in themselves through anger, sadness, aggression, and hatred. While social media is a beautiful thing because it allows people like me to spread messages like this, the other side of the coin is that it can offer anonymity to people who would never say these hurtful things to your face.
At the end of the day, I’ve been called much worse than fat, disgusting, or unhealthy. It’s not my business how those who don’t support me or my blog feel about me. None of us should take the precious time out of our days to worry about what internet trolls have to say about our bodies. Truthfully, it’s none of our business. The only business that is ours and that we have to attend to is our supporters. Those relationships are ones of value. They will continue to help us grow and thrive. Where is a hater getting you? After the whole ordeal, my friend, Max, reminded me that, “if you have haters you must be doing something right.”
If you’ve exhausted all options, my sweet, don’t be afraid to hit that block button just like I did! You don’t need that negativity in your life. Haters gonna hate, but that doesn’t mean we have to see it.
Are youdealing with online hate? Have you in the past? Let’s talk about it! Slide into the DMs on any of my social media profiles below – I’d love to hear your story!
I have mentioned being very blessed in the family department. We talk very openly and candidly in our home about things that not all families do. It’s made me confident in what I say, who I am, and how I act. I can also acknowledge that this is not the case for everyone. A father figure consistently in one’s life is not something that all kids have. Having a dad that is at all your swim meets, musicals, and ceremonies isn’t something that even those who have those father figures can say. I’m so lucky to have my dad.
He’s one of the biggest blessings I have. Every person that has the honor of meeting him is forever changed by his kind heart, funny personality, and overwhelming need to help others. So, this blog goes out to my dad & all the dads – the unbiological, unconventional, adoptive, random, perfect, not-so-perfect father figures in our lives. Today, if you don’t have anyone who goes by “Father” to celebrate with, I hope you hug your partner, brother, mom, or nonbinary pal a little tighter because here’s how you know you’ve got yourself a good human in your life.
You can call them with all the dumb stuff.
You’re not fully vetted in Wisconsin winters until your car has been plowed in. I’m not talking like kick-it-out-of-the-way-with-your-Ugg-boots snow, but a rock-hard ice and snow mixture that leaves your car in place for days. This winter I found myself in exactly that situation running extremely late for work at like 6 in the morning. On the verge of panic, I called my dad. Keep in mind, my dad is forty minutes away, cannot see my car, and will not be able to aid in getting me to work faster.
You learn fairly early when raising an anxious daughter not to say, “Calm down.” Rather, you have to speak calmly and offer me solutions. About 10 minutes in, I’m crying (duh), but my little Honda creaks over the ice and gets on the road to work. In all reality, I should have called one of my strong friends to push, but I called my dad. Because I know that no matter how dumb the question, how stupid of a situation it is, or how much of a pickle I’ve gotten myself into, he’ll be there to take the call.
He’s hard on you when you need it.
My brother and I are best buds, but it hasn’t always been that way. We have a five year age gap and both craved the spotlight growing up. If you couple that with the fact that we both have some serious anxiety issues, it’s pretty clear that my parents have had to navigate some pretty rough waters once or twice. As I went to college, though, I was full-on mean to Sullivan. I didn’t know how to place my emotions in any other behavior but crying or screaming, so I did at the people that loved me the most.
My dad’s the hardest on me when I desperately need the wake up call. Siblings fight and terrorize each other. That’s natural. There’s a point in growing up, though, when your sibling is over the bullshit. They remember you as just being mean and making fun of them for wanting to spend time with you. If I didn’t figure it out (or get called out by my dad), I don’t know if I’d be able to say I’m close with my brother now. I’ll forever remember my dad saying “Words are like bullets. Saying them is like shooting a gun. You can never take it back. People might heal from the hurt that your words caused them, but they’ll always have the scars.” That seems too big to fit on a fortune cookie, so if Steve Saliby trademarked that absolute wisdom bomb we’ll take the proceeds. BUT, for real, think about it. Good dads are hard on us when we need them to be because they love us, they know what we’re capable of, and they want what’s best for us.
He’s unbelievably proud of you.
Here’s me finally graduating college after 4.5 years of not knowing what in the world I was doing! I can’t tell who’s more excited!
Dads are weird. Sometimes they plaster your face all over their social media with captions like “That’s MY kid!!!” and other times they’ll say it where kind of have to decode it. I’m not sure if it’s because emotional men have always been a no-no in male norms or because it’s just hard for humans to say their proud of other humans. It’s interesting to look for those “I’m proud of you,” moments from dad though.
Like I said before, we are an open and honest household. We use words like “validate” a lot. So, my dad will spend an afternoon making the perfect cover photo for his Facebook that has each and every one of my brother’s Senior photos. He wants the world to know how cool we are (not that I blame him.) Good father figures want you to know that you’re doing a good job. There’s no “right” way to do that, of course. They just make sure that you feel like your work isn’t going unnoticed, you are being heard, and you are loved for exactly who you are – even if it’s acts of kindness, gifts, or words that display that pride in you!
He lets you live through his failures.
I think that it’s part of the qualifications of becoming a father that you go through some weird shit to be able to tell your kids about. Fatherhood means you’re morally obligated to share your failures with your kids, especially when they tend to beat themselves up a lot. My dad’s really good at letting us make our mistakes, learn our lesson, but also loving us through it.
A while back I was really struggling for money. Rather than asking for help, I stressed myself to the absolute max, a form of punishment for letting my checking account get that low. I was scared to tell my dad because I didn’t want him to be worried or disappointed. At the end of the day, I want him to feel like he raised someone who’s responsible all the way around. When I finally broke down and told him I was needing help, he simply laughed at how worried I was about telling him. He comforted me with some stories from his spontaneous early twenties and how he learned the hard way to have a better relationship with money. He made me feel like these mistakes were just part of life, even if they feel like a ton of bricks in the moment.
Great father figures aren’t scared to humanize themselves for the good of the people they love. They understand that you make mistakes because they have too! Sometimes, their stories can shield us from the pain of disappointment. But when it doesn’t, they can offer their stories as a form of comfort to let us know that we’re not alone.
My dad helping me LAUNCH A PODCAST!
They’ve always got a plan…
..Even if it isn’t THE plan. Have you ever noticed that dads are weirdly good at things that make no sense? My father can hit a tennis ball with the craziest accuracy and speed – where do you learn that?! I’m not sure that it would serve him in something like the zombie apocalypse, but the notion still stands. They’re ready to beat your ass at kickball, build a deck, or literally anything else that comes up because they have a plan.
You know you’ve got a good one if he’s always got a plan. It might not be the plan you go with and there might be some big holes, but dammit there’s a plan. People who are weirdly prepared in all occasions (or can fake it till they make it) are the ones we gotta hang on to. Father figures are clinically proven to offer random advice or thoughts about how to proceed – the perfect remedy to feeling anxious, lost, or nervous. Regardless of their ability to survive on a desert island, the pure confidence exuding out of them is something we all could use a little bit more of in our lives.
He loves you for just being you.
As I said before, I know I’m blessed in the family department. I know that most people cannot say they have the relationship with their father that I do. I’m also aware that a lot of people have had to hold back parts of themselves to make the fathers in their life happy. On this Father’s Day, I want to say that you’re perfect just the way that you are. Sometimes it’s really hard to unlearn the traditional ways we grew up seeing, hearing, and learning. But, you have the ability to change the cycle now! Our generation has the ability to be the parents that love their kids for whatever they look like, whoever they love, and whatever they pray to. We have the option of being with partners who value love and compassion over outdated “morals.” We have the opportunity to be the parents that some of our peers never had. We have the ability to be (and love) REALLY great fathers mentioned throughout this blog.
I also want to say that even if you don’t have a father that you can be 100% yourself around, those of us who do, would love to share. There’s things in my life that are not picture-perfect. There’s parts of my psyche that make me stronger, but that I wish I could better understand for my family. My dad has always loved me – through the most difficult moments to the ones where I was grabbing two degrees – he had my back. When I was confused as to where my path was or where the world was calling me, he let me talk his ear off. He loves me at my worst, which makes loving me at my best so much more fulfilling. Those men, guardians, or unconventional father figures that make us feel okay for just being us are who we need to aspire to be. Loving for the sake of loving is the sign of a really good person.
He reminds you that life is meant to beenjoyed.
My dad is the funniest person I know. As I type this, I’m rolling my eyes, because I know he just wants to hear that on loop all day. The amount of times that I’ve cried laughing in his presence is unheard of. “It’s all in the timing,” he says. There’s always moments of tension or high-emotion that he can break with a well-timed joke.
Not only that, but my dad has always been the “Do it now, because you might not be able to later,” type. When I wanted to launch a blog, podcast, and media company rather than going to law school, Steve was on board. He wanted me to be happy in my career. When I talk about a potential book, he tells me to stay in my childhood bed rent-free and start doing it!
Dads can be hard on you. They’re supposed to teach you all these lessons for the real world. Getting them through that big, thick skull of yours takes some tough love sometimes. You know you’ve got a good one, though, when they’re goal is to help you enjoy the life that you’ve made for yourself.
Happy Father’s Day to whoever qualifies as “Father” in your life. I hope that they’re teaching you lessons, making you feel loved, and setting you up to be the best version of yourself. I know that I’m unbelievably blessed to have a relationship with my dad. This one goes out to the really good people who are doing their absolute best at parenting. It goes out to the single moms who have had to step-up, the unconventional dads who might not look like society’s version of a father figure, and to the dads who never imagined having to be a dad. This one goes to nontraditional, adoptive, and biological alike. This one goes to my dad – a man who’s kind heart has taught me more in 23 years than most learn in a lifetime and has been a REALLY good dad.
How areyou celebrating Father’s Day?Do you have a father figure (or someone who’s stepped up in your life) that you want to brag about? Hit me up on any of the socials below! I want to hear your story!
For the most part, I’m okay. I haven’t always been able to say that. I mean, for most of my formative years I would grumble, “I’m fine.” Everyone around me knew that was a lie, but I thought I was pulling it off decently. It wasn’t until I found myself in writing that I felt comfortable sharing that maybe I wasn’t okay. At that time, I needed help and I needed it fast.
I wrote a blog at the beginning of Mental Health Awareness Month about the guilt associated with my happiness as a vocal advocate for the mental health community. In that blog, I talked about how I have mostly considered myself to be in the recovery part of my mental health journey. The bad days don’t come as often as they used to. When they do, I’m usually equipped to handle them in a healthy way.
You already KNOW that I’m all about habits and habit tracking. I make my bed everyday and try to keep my environment clean….unless I’m in a depressive episode.
That doesn’t, however, mean that I’m cured. I absolutely love to hear success stories of patients who struggle for a bit, go through some intense therapy, and move on with their life leaving depression in the past. I absolutely believe it’s possible. Everyone’s mental health looks so different. What might need temporary help for one person might require lifelong care for another.
Personally, I feel great. I feel healthier and happier than I ever have. The group of friends that I have are ones that I would call my “forever friends.” The things that I’m doing and planning right now are setting me up for my life, rather than just for next month or next year. I’m genuinely recovering. However, I still have my depression and I still take medication.
Like every human on the face of the Earth, I have bad days. Like every person who’s ever gone through a treatment or recovery, I have moments of weakness. You put being a human together with the natural rollercoaster that is “getting better” and VIOLA! You’ve got some perfect storms brewing!
My depressive episodes are nothing like what they were at 16. Even though I occasionally get sassy with my family (Sorry, guys), they’re mostly full of tears and isolation. Here’s an example: During a depressive episode, I won’t change my clothes for 3 days. I’ll sit and cry over seemingly small things, do everything in my power to stay in my bed, and lash out when someone tries to motivate me. Then, I’ll start feeling bad for not working out, showing up for the business, or blowing my friends off and I’ll cry some more. I eat as many carbs as I can find, which I subsequently will beat myself up for later. All of this is separated by about 4 two-hour naps throughout the day to aid my emotional exhaustion.
The aftermath of a few days of depressive episode. Honestly, this is pretty tame compared to other times. I removed the Taco Bell wrappers pre-photoshoot 😉
I don’t want you to pity me. I want you to look at this situation for what it is: reality. To be honest, my episodes are pretty mild compared to those who suffer from bipolar disorder or those who haven’t had any sort of mental health treatment. Episodes look different on everyone, but I can promise with 100% certainty that they’re never glorious
I’m lucky. My family and friends are loving enough for me to approach and explain how I’m feeling to them. We openly talk about mental health a lot. But, being able to explicitly say, “I’m not okay and need some time,” is never easy! If you’re years into this battle or just starting off, speaking the fact that you’re having a little bit of a breakdown into verbal existence can be extremely difficult. But, it can also lead to much easier communication down the road. You don’t owe anyone an in-depth look at your psyche, but simply saying that you need time and space is neither selfish nor rude.
I’ve been hesitant to share my breakdowns on social media. I’m supposed to be a mental health blogger and aspiring coach. In my head, that means I’m supposed to have this knowledge that makes me valuable to you. You know what, though? I have breakdowns. I have moments of weakness when I cry over getting the wrong taco (seriously, that happened). I have times when there’s total chaos and I’m not as centered in my life as I would want to be. But, above all, I am human.
Reading this, right now, so are you. You are a human being with feelings, emotions, weaknesses, strengths, blood, guts, and boogers all making up this beautiful thing that is you. You get to have moments of tears where you don’t need to flex your muscles. Because you are human, you are bound to have moments when life hits a little too hard. It could be a depressive episode, an anxiety attack, a breakdown, or just a big bitch fit. Guess what? It is OKAY.
We’re not going to stay in that space, though. We’re not going to waste time letting life beat us up. We’ll let out a few cuss words or tears and get back up. Got it? It’s not about what the episode looks like. It’s about how you recover from it. Because yeah, I might have cried over a taco, but you’re damn sure I got Taco Bell right after that.
How has your mental health been? Are you flying high, experiencing a little bit of an episode, or chilling somewhere in the middle? Connect with me on any of my social media accounts below. I want to hear your story!
The past couple months have been spent bundled up in quarantine. I wish I could say I put my bustling love life on hold to be safe and responsible in the midst of a pandemic. Truth is, though, I stayed safe and responsible because I didn’t have a bustling love life to put on hold.
For a long time, being SO single was a gigantic chip on my shoulder. I mean, who was I to speak on both platonic and romantic relationships if I didn’t have the second half? While in quarantine, however, I’ve realized that being single isn’t an indication of someone being unworthy. In the past, I didn’t allow myself to go on dates or even think about another partner because I was caught up in toxicity that was an on and off again relationship. I was single as a form of self harm – a controllable punishment as a result of a failed relationship.
I wanted my first Valentine’s Day single to be SO performative & impressive, but I was really just hurt and looking for some answers in the people around me.
As things started to heal, though, I surrounded myself with people whose romantic situations all looked a lot different. Some of them had on and off boyfriends that I could absolutely relate to. Others had been dating their partner for six years and still never fought. I had a lot of questions for them. I had hilarious guy friends who remained single by choice because they weren’t ready to settle down quite yet. All of these situations spoke to me in different ways. The people that I loved and respected didn’t have to be in relationships to feel whole.
I started to surround myself with more strong, independent women. We had all outgrown the chasing boys phase we once had and now could be found breaking it DOWN on the dance floor. When we spoke about new men in our lives, the tone was a bit different. Their intelligence and character was almost as important as their looks. More importantly, we didn’t need to have a suitor to be worthy. We didn’t need a partner to warrant the attention. The time that we spent single was used to unlock all that confidence in ourselves.
Below is an amazing Instagrammer (@naturally_nichole_) who recently got engaged & got me thinking about building a life with a partner that actually serves us! Clearly, she found the right one (CONGRATS, girl!) and she brings up an amazing point. Sometimes, we have to leave behind a life we know to build one that better serves us – that includes our love life! Nichole made me start thinking about changes I’ve started to make and those that I want to implement. That is growth, my friends.
Finding a partner that suits you can be extremely difficult. So often, we’re looking for someone to complete us but, we’re not half of anything. We don’t need another human to be whole. We don’t need a significant other’s touch to fix what we might view as broken. Rather, we need someone who compliments us. Sees the flaws as what they are – no sugarcoating, no gaslighting, no bullshit. We need someone who sees the flaws, acknowledges what they mean, and loves beyond them.
A partner that serves us encourages us to think differently, act differently, and behave differently without explicitly telling us to do so. They show parts of their experience that we’ve never seen. They check us when we’re horribly off base. Most importantly, they ask questions so that the confidence within you grows. If it all comes crashing down, they’re there to help you rebuild.
Everyone walks around with a fire inside them. You have it right now as you’re reading this. It could be roaring as you manage a huge business, get your doctorate, and make your sixth invention of the month. It could be just a teeny tiny spark; barely noticeable as you struggle to find your place. Regardless of what your fire looks like now, we enter all adult relationships with it and attempt to nurture it while doing a million other things. A good partner will nurture yours AND theirs. They won’t be intimidated by your glow, but applaud every level of success that you get to. They’ll push you to aim higher, ask what your new goals are, and love you even when you trip up. THAT’S a partner that serves YOU. That serves your fire.
Guess what?! It’s okay to work on the fire before the partner! It’s okay to be a boss babe that sets all her work goals first. I mean, it is 2020, people. If you want to travel the whole world before you jump on a dating app…. Take lots of pictures! If you want to spend all your time writing blog posts instead of meeting “the one” in a Wisconsin bar… more time to save for a wedding!! The partner that we have for the long haul is for us. It’s not to prove to Nana, Mom, or Cousin Lucy that you’re worthy of love. They’ll see it when you finally have the one that serves you after checking all of your needs off the list.
If you’re in the loop of “Why am I single?” bah-humbug, try this:
Surround yourself with more single people
Spend more time making money/projects/things than on dating apps
Follow more single people – this one is a life changer that you won’t even realize you did until you do it!!
Plan more trips with friends!
Let it go – odds are some beautiful sailor (who’s totally into mental health blogs & start up businesses) on leave for one night will magically bump into you when you’re at a girl’s night with all your friends but ONLY when you’ve stopped obsessing over the fact that you’re single
For right now, let the “partner that best serves you” be the people that know and love you most. It gets weird when life presents you with people who would be contenders in the past. The person that was tired of being single would have dated these partners in a heartbeat!! But, after some time being single, you’re actually willing to stand your ground, hold your standards, and wait for the person that’s actually going to serve you and your purpose.
Are you serving yourself first? Are you remembering that at the end of the day the world wants to see YOU it doesn’t care if your single, married, in a relationship, or divorced so show up and show off! Let’s chat on any of my socials below!
There are very few times in my life where I’ve felt a loss for words. I’m full of them. Some of those words come to the surface automatically and make my mom blush. Others are thoughtful and well-rehearsed. I’d like to think I have more of the latter.
Recently though, I cannot find the words to say. Unless my grandma comes over and starts spouting off lines she’s heard on Fox News, I don’t know where to start. In my heart, I know where my morals lie. I know which Facebook posts from distant family members make me say “Wow, that’s blatant racism,” under my breath while some Twitter videos make me so prideful to be part of this generation of change. In my head, I know that any black person has a place at my table, in my home, and ALWAYS in the nation I want to be a part of. For so long, I thought that the absence of hate made me an ally, but I don’t get to choose if I’m an ally to the black community. It’s up to them.
Photo credit: Hunter Hanthorn (Milwaukee, WI)
I recently wrote a blog post about my white privilege. It’s centered around the fact that I don’t walk around this world aware of my skin tone. The lack of awareness is a privilege in itself. I acknowledge that I will never know the full capabilities of my privilege because that would be fully understanding the experience of those who are oppressed. I can empathize but I will never truly know what it’s like to have to be aware of the color of your skin at all times.
I chose Political Science as one of my majors because I saw how many men were in the program. My ego definitely played a big part in the decision. I’ve been ready to argue about politics for most of my life. In feeling so “woke,” for lack of a better term, there were times when I thought I was the best ally that I could possibly be. Because I spoke up in my lectures against hate, I pat myself on the back for supporting the movement. Because I retweeted something, I snubbed my nose at those who weren’t educated on politics around the world. Because I had been to a protest or two, it wasn’t my job to keep showing up. Yet, I still thought of myself as doing everything that I possibly could to show that I cared.
In all honesty, I was doing more than most. However, when some people are doing nothing, doing the bare minimum is nothing to feel proud about. More importantly, it wasn’t my stubborn ass that needed to be heard in those lecture halls. It was the black students. It was their experience that I needed to learn from before I spoke. By encouraging their voices, I could have asked questions and found a path that better suited my allyship. Maybe then, I would have realized that it’s not my place to announce to the world “I AM AN ALLY!”
I don’t want to make this confusing. Announce to the world that you are open-minded, full of love, and tolerant as much as humanly possible. Make it known that you are trying to do better and learn more, but don’t take this time to boost your own ego in being the “performative ally” that no one needs right now. It’s not black people’s responsibility to teach you, however, they have the right to decide if you are an ally to the Black Lives Matter movement or not.
Photo credit: Hunter Hanthorn (Milwaukee, WI)
The movement has done an amazing job in providing resources to donate to, petitions to sign, and events to attend that allow you to be the kind ally that they are looking for. It allows you to be a part of the movement without taking the microphone from the community that has gone unheard. It’s our job to LISTEN. It’s our job to LEARN. It’s our job to CHANGE.
That being said, there are some amazing ways that you can support that don’t always include joining the ranks on the street. Protests are SO important, but so is funding, supplies, and political advocacy all of which you can do from your couch. There really is no excuse for not getting involved.
Here are some amazing resources that I found (sponsored by the official Black Lives Matter website) if you want to be a better ally:
Call the Louisville Mayor at 844-298-2731 and demand justice for Breonna Taylor who was killed after a no knock warrant was served on the incorrect house. Demand that the officers involved be charged and fired!
Sign the Justice For Breonna Taylor petition that’s almost 6 million strong!!
I have done all of these things from under my comforter in my bed. Chapters of Black Lives Matter in your area can be found through their website (most of which will accept Venmo!) if you’d like to see your money going directly to protestors in your community. If you’re uncomfortable being in the thick of it, donate. If you don’t have the means to donate, call, sign, or post. You know what’s best for you. But know that sometimes, doing what’s right isn’t always the easiest path to take. You might get push back. You might feel a little helpless and you might feel overwhelmed, but it’s a big part of learning as you go.
No, you don’t get to decide if you’re the best ally. You don’t get to receive a Political Science degree and debate some close minded kid in class and think that your work is done. As white people, there’s SO much this movement can help us learn about ourselves, our community, and the fractures within our system that we might have been blind to. You might not get to decide if you can be labeled an “ally” for the cause, but what you can decide to do is learn, grow, accept that your allyship might be off course, and just listen to those around you.
Special thanks to Hunter Hanthorn for these photos from the Milwaukee protests! Like I said, I want to learn & grow to be whatever this movement needs me to be! If you have resources that should be added to this list, please contact me at any of the socials below!
This year marks five years since my graduation from high school. More importantly, 2020 is the year that my baby brother can officially be called a high school graduate. By no means was his senior year similar to mine. I had some struggles, but none really compared to a global pandemic that kept me quarantined for two months. I had some rough situations with friends, but none had to be solved over Zoom or from behind a mask. I had moments that I’ll never forget just like I confidently say that he will never forget this year.
While getting ready for a virtual graduation might look a little different than me preparing for mine all those years ago, there are things that I recognize are the same. I’ve been helping him announce his school of choice to all loved ones and places. I took that classic graduation picture that my parents will hold onto forever. I watched as he wrote essays, cried about the changes to come, and worried about the unknown. I saw glimpses of myself the whole way. While I know that he has to break into this world in his own way and find his own path, I’ve tried to share with him the basic things that I’ve learned in the five years since I hung my hat on high school.
The mistakes I made, lessons I learned, and moments I had were things that I needed. I wouldn’t give them up or change them for a minute. But, they’ve allowed me to become the person that I am today. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t some things I wish someone had told me when I graduated high school. Maybe you’ve already heard these things a thousand times, or maybe you don’t want to hear them at all. Nonetheless, if I could speak to myself five years ago as I was about to graduate high school, there are definitely some things I would say.
First, there will be more people who are interested in you. I might have specifically needed to hear, “Emily, the boy you met when you were 14 and cheated on you six months in is probably not ‘the one.’” In a more real and broad sense, leaving high school throws you into the world of meeting people like a whirlwind. Classmates, coworkers, and mutual friends all have a way of making it into your phone contacts. Walking into that space with a mindset that the couple hundred people you graduated with are the only ones that are ever going to love you is pure garbage.
I encourage you to make your own mistakes. Let your heart break a time or two so that you can learn to pick up the pieces for yourself. But, also know that the person you were at 18 and the way you want to be treated is not going to translate five years later. Recently, the wise Sullivan Saliby said, “Sometimes holding on hurts more than letting go.” Letting go of someone that you’ve known all of your formative years is so difficult, but it’s sometimes easier than holding on and continuing to get hurt.
Second, take more pictures. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I took (and take) PLENTY of pictures. I’m not talking about Snapchats that people will see for 24 hours and you’ll see a year later in your Timehop. Take photos that will be saved in your Camera Roll. Get them printed. Put them somewhere. Give them to your mom and tell her about the friends you’re making. Being able to sit with your memories makes them so much fonder during times when you can’t necessarily remember what you were wearing or the boy you had a crush on. Those pictures will say a thousand words that you will hold onto forever.
Third, learn to forgive yourself, kid. Yes, someone in history decided that eighteen was the monumental year in which you’d be released into society. However, that doesn’t mean that you don’t get to keep making mistakes and learning like a kid. Hell, your 80 year old grandma is still making mistakes! Part of being an adult, though, is learning to take responsibility, say sorry, and forgive yourself.
We’ve all said some pretty stupid things. We’ve all done things that made the ones around us disappointed. Those things might even make us disappointed to think about. The key to life is realizing that every single person has made mistakes. The star athlete, the self-help coach, and the model alike have all made mistakes that made themselves and the people around them feel bad. What sets us apart though, is our ability to deal with our mistakes and eventually forgive ourselves.
I’ve told my brother this, so think of it as a little bit of older sister advice. The crappy days and the good days are part of what makes us, us. We build the little day to day experiences in with the monstrous life lessons to get this complex concoction that is us. You’re going to mess up. You’re going to spend too much money. You’re going to have your heartbroken or maybe you’ll break someone else’s heart. You’re going to hurt someone’s feelings. You’re going to fail a test. Damn it, you’re going to make mistakes. There’s no amount of prep work or reading that can prepare you for what the world really looks like. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I would want to provide you with the magic words if I had them. You need to learn to navigate all those things to become who you’re supposed to be. If something goes terribly wrong, make sure you have people that will be there to guide you back, but take the risks, spend the money, and forgive yourself.
Lastly, never stop saying you care. Believe it or not, being a high school graduate does not suddenly give you telepathic powers. Another mind crushing fact is that adults need to hear that they’re loved just as much as children do. So, while you might not think it’s “cool” to call your mom every day, she might just need you to pick up the phone. While you might roll your eyes that your Grandma signs all of her Facebook comments “Grandma Sue” as if you can’t see her profile, she might just want you to comment back. We all get overwhelmed with the whirlwind that is entering life. We have all this freedom, pride, and new land to cover. It’s hard not to press ignore a time or two.
When all the new things stop being so shiny, you’ll realize who’s been there for you all along. You’ll realize who the great “forever” friends are that you’ve kept from the halls of high school and the ones that you’ve gained as you aged up. Never stop telling the one’s around you that you care about them, you appreciate them, and you love them. There are some days that you won’t really like them. They might annoy you or hurt your feelings. But, to the ones that matter, make it known that even if you don’t like them at the moment, you’ll always love them. Because like it or not, life has a way of taking away the opportunity to say it to their face sometimes. So, say it often and loud.
I want to say that I’m so proud of the Class of 2020. They have a special place in my heart because I’ve watched one of your fellow graduates grow from infancy to getting his diploma. But, they also have a special place in my heart because none of us will ever know what you’re going through. None of us will ever have a senior year like yours or be tested like you have. I know that you’ve been asked to be strong 100 times already. Believe me, life isn’t going to stop expecting that from you. Regardless of how you finished the race, you finished. You got the medal.
Graduation might signal to the world that you’re ready to enter it, but don’t hesitate to hang out in the world of a kid for a while before rushing into your next steps. You have your whole life to be an adult. No matter what graduation means, move forward in your life how YOU are meant to live it. Love who you want, take in all the moments, and dive into all your passions. Take it from someone who was in your shoes just five years ago, there’s a lot of things I wish I would have known as I was crossing that stage. But damn, I’m so excited for you to come and learn all of them alongside me.
Congratulations, graduates! Tell me about the plans for your next chapter (or brag about your favorite grad) on any of my socials below!
The fact that I’m even writing a blog like this hurts my whole heart. The fact that I’m preparing for it to be met with some hate on my Facebook or Twitter feed makes me lose all hope. For those of you who this blog does not find well, I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry that you’ve chosen to close your eyes and mouth to the clear lines drawn in the sand. I’m not sorry that you’ve chosen to act like your privilege was something you “earned” rather than something you were genetically encoded with when you came into the world with white skin. If this finds you poorly and you want to spit some fire back, go for it. But, I’m not going to be silent about this & passively sit back.
I’m tired of us killing each other. I’m so tired of us using fear of what we don’t know or refuse to understand as a reason to shoot at, choke, or murder each other in cold blood. And honestly, saying “each other” is doing a disservice. I’m tired of us killing people because they have black skin. It sends a shiver down my spine that we refer to this as “brutality” when it’s only one thing; murder.
Now, I’m not going to sit here and tell you about the experience of a person of color. First, because I can’t even begin to understand that experience; thus, write about it. Second, there are millions of more important narratives you should be reading if you want to truly understand the experience of a person of color. What I am going to do, though, is check my privilege.
Truthfully, there’s never going to be a time when I fully understand my privilege. I try my best to be aware most of the time of my circumstances, but I, like many others, don’t have to walk through life thinking about the color of my skin. I was born into this world with white skin which gives me an unbelievable amount of privilege, that I can acknowledge. But, I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand my privilege, purely because I won’t ever understand the experience of not having it. Does that make sense? Not everyone gets to walk around and not think about the color of their skin all the time like I do. Not everyone gets to walk out of the house worrying only about if your outfit makes you look chubby, rather than drawing implication on who I am as a person. The experience of a person of color is one that I will never have, be able to speak on, or claim to know.
I recently shared a post on Facebook that really made me consider all the things I have the privilege of doing without thinking twice.
Some of these stuck with me more than others, of course. My younger brother and I have been sitting in our home for 2 months. We’ve never been scared for our lives. Even if a police officer knocked on our door, we wouldn’t be scared of THEM. We’d be scared of the information that they would calmly give us.
I mean, I’m a blonde, white girl. When I’m in the gas station, I worry about men yelling inappropriate things at me rather than calling the police because they just assume I am shoplifting. When I tell people I’m a first generation college student, they’re genuinely surprised. It’s as if my pale skin indicates that my parents are ultimately together, rich, and successful. However, with my black classmates, struggle has always just been assumed and thus placed upon them. Even if you’re NOT struggling with family or money or foundational stressors, the constant assumption that you are can lead you to a pretty angry and lonely lifestyle. Not to mention that the lack of confidence that the world seems to have that you’re tasked to disprove is like a ladder that just keeps getting taller.
The REALLY fucked up thing is that these notions are placed upon us before we speak or act. Purely by looking at me, I appear “safer” than women of color. To police in this country, it’s been made obvious that my life is worth more. But, why?
The obvious answer is inherent racism set on us due to years and years of oppression. Institutions that came from trying to punish slaves and maintain Jim Crow laws, such as the modern police force, are still in place – just as the War on Drugs has been unfairly prosecuting people of color since its creation. Reforming institutions that are so clearly based on the foundation of racism is not possible. New and improved models are needed in the 21st century after years of technological, scientific, and academic advances.
I don’t hate police officers. However, I’m not going to sit here and say, “There are a few bad apples just like in everything.” That is diminishing these events. If good officers passively stand by and watch their partners or fellow officers commit murder, they might as well hold the civilian down. If the department puts those officers on “paid leave” until giving them a slap on the wrist, that’s condoning murder in their precinct. Maybe that’s an unpopular opinion. Maybe this paragraph is going to be the one that ruffles the feathers. But, feeling nothing, saying nothing, and DOING NOTHING makes you an instigator, whether you want to be or not. Holding criminal justice as we know it, officers who joined for the right and the wrong reasons, accountable for these actions are the only way that change occurs.
Photo credit: BlackLivesMatterSchool.com
Truthfully, white people don’t have to worry about protesting… we saw that in the peak of the pandemic. thousands of Americans screamed in the faces of police officers because they felt their Constitutional rights were being infringed when asked to wear a mask. Some were armed, but of course, that is within their Second Amendment right. Oh, and they were white. But, people of color and their active allies take to the streets to protest the blatant murder and they’re called “rioters” rather than protestors. Their right to peacefully assemble, which is covered by the Constitution, is almost always interrupted with tear gas, violence, or more death.
And you know what, I don’t have to worry about it. I had another blog that could have gone up. I could turn my head and keep going without saying a word. The privilege that I was born with could carry me through this life. OR, I could say something. I could join in on the conversations, not just for the clout of saying something, but for more information from the black community in how to be the best ally. I can be an active part of the protests. I can write to my representatives because their bias to listen to my voice coming from my skin tone can be seen so clearly sometimes. I can check my white privilege every day and then check it again. So, what can you do?
Let’s talk about this. If you have a way to get involved, donate, or advocate, please get into my DMs and let me know! For anyone that reads this post, or any post in the future, you are so welcome here. I am proud of you. You are worthy. I will not stop advocating for OUR freedoms.
My brother and I were pondering what could be the most contradictory message that I could sharenon my blog. Maybe something like “You Shouldn’t Talk About Your Mental Health,” where I advocate for everyone keeping their traps shut. There are already many people in this world who spend their time writing articles with titles such as “Depression is a Choice,” so I think we have that base covered. Then I started to realize, I should probably write that contradictory blog. I should probably address all the people that scroll through my website and roll their eyes.
No, I’m not going to sit here and side with you. First off, it would piss off quite a few people who trust me to write with an open mind and heart when approaching something as delicate as our mental states. Secondly, I wholeheartedly disagree. Every single blog that I write has a goal of connecting to your inner self, your mental health, and your mind. If you don’t believe that some people might face some problems in that department then maybe this blog will change your mind. Seeing the world as more than just a binary of “happy” and “sad” will seriously change your life.
My parents knew almost nothing about depression when I first started my high school cry for help. They didn’t say they were clueless. They definitely didn’t know what to do or where to start when it came to addressing a situation that was unraveling before their eyes. Like most in their generation, they were raised to rub some dirt on it, wipe away tears, and get back up again. For all intents and purposes, this isn’t a terrible mindset to have. I mean, these are the men and women who have fought a couple of wars and whose parents survived the Great Depression. Was there really another way?
Generally speaking, in their generation, problems were dealt with in the home. Even then, no one really had the resources, technology, or knowledge about mental health to advocate for it or understand it like we do now. We constantly say that more and more people have mental illnesses now, but what if people just weren’t willing to be anything other than “normal?”
All that being said, my parents are definitely outliers amongst their peers. When others didn’t really understand or support my confusing disdain for everything around me, my dad was driving the mental health support train with my mom blowing the whistle. I’m blessed. People often applaud me for being open about my mental health journey, but they never think to applaud my parents for taking the leap with me. Being so vocal about my experiences has meant putting some really vulnerable moments online that people don’t always understand, especially when they think that I just wake up every day and choose to have depression or anxiety.
Yes, I did have pink hair & no, I don’t regret it.
I was probably 19 when I first had someone ask why I couldn’t just be happy. The look on their face was a mix of judgement and genuine curiosity. I’ve gotten the whole “I would NEVER take medicine,” thing too many times to count. I still tease my mom about saying “I think you should just get some exercise and you’d feel way better,” when she started to notice my mood shift downward.
If there was any possible way that I could wake up, press a button, and decide my diagnoses wouldn’t bother me that day, I would do so in a heartbeat. I’m going to take a leap of faith in saying that literally every single person that has a mental illness would do the same thing. I absolutely don’t blame people for not feeling like medicine is their thing. It’s not my thing either! But damn, you don’t wanna hang out with this homegirl without her meds because it’s what WORKS FOR ME! Also, I would love to just sweat/eat right/meditate/sleep/work all of it out, but that’s not how it works.
Mental illness is exactly that: mental. You can’t see my social anxiety from across the room at the doctor’s office, but it’s very much there and it’s very much real! That classic Bob Marley song that I conveniently used as the title for this blog also used to piss me off when I was younger because I was worrying all the time which in turn made me the exact opposite of happy. You know the one. I get it. It’s a song. It’s supposed to make you feel good. But, just because you haven’t felt mental illness in your mind or coursing through your body doesn’t make the experience less real for someone else.
I haven’t personally broken my leg, but I understand that it would probably hurt. I don’t need to feel my bone break to believe in that kind of pain or suffering. More importantly, I trust the opinion of doctors that study and treat those people in the best way that they know how. Does a psychologist need to put someone’s head in a cast to have the world believe that you can’t just wake up and be healed? Maybe I’m comparing apples and oranges, but if someone asked why you can’t just choose to start running on your broken leg you wouldn’t know where to start. If they shamed you for taking ibuprofen because when THEY broke their leg THEY didn’t have to, how would you feel? If they told you to just get some more sleep and it would go away, what would you say?
So yeah, don’t worry and be happy, my friends. But know, that there’s a time and place where you or the people around you can’t easily fit into the mold that is “happy.” Understanding each other is the first step in advocacy for mental illness. Even if you’re lucky enough to not have a first hand experience with mental illness, knowledge in the fact that there’s not just two camps of “happy” and “sad” can go a long way in how we love and treat one another.
Even if this blog still seems like some sort of persuasive essay and you still haven’t been convinced, I hope you’ll take a look at resources like National Alliance on Mental Illness who can say all this stuff more technically and less based on personal experience. Moral of the blog: I hope you never ever question why someone’s “choosing” to be sad. I hope you tell your kids, grandma, dog, lizard, succulent, and any other life form that will listen that happiness isn’t a choice. It’s something that you work at. Some of us just need a little support in that department.
Here at EmyD you’ll see an ongoing narrative that if you’re trying your best, no one can ask anything else of you. That goes for happiness too. If you’re trying your best to get up, show up, and just survive, in whatever that looks like right now, I’m proud of you!
Have you ever felt misunderstood or misrepresented in your mental state? Even after explanations, examples, and tears? You are not alone! Connect with me on any of the social below – I want to hear your story!
I have a habit of crying when I’m going through something. I mean, I’m a blogger. I should be able to use all of the adjectives, nouns, and adverbs to accurately express how I’m feeling before I get that upset, right? Lately, though, I’ve been having these overwhelming moments where it’s hard for me to separate my emotion from my narrative. It’s difficult for me to say what I really mean without adding some tears behind it.
Normally, this would be a journal post. It would just be a couple pages of scribbles before bed that I would sleep on and only think about when I went to therapy a month later. Normally, this wouldn’t make me think twice. But, I am. I’m thinking twice, three, even four times about this. Why is my mind so caught up on separating an emotional thought from an intellectual one? This week, I officially verbalized that my frustration is that I’ve never felt I could be emotional and intellectual at the same time – even though they are huge parts of who I am as a person. So, the question remains, can you really be intelligent and emotional at the same time?
Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve always been a little too smart for my own good. Take that at face value, of course. I didn’t graduate medical school at 14 or invent something to change the world, but I pride myself on being smart. I let everyone around me know from about the time that I could formulate words together.
After confirming with my parents, I would also say that I’m fiercely independent. So much so that I began to subconsciously believe that the things that my parents wanted me to succeed at were things that I did alone – swim, school, theatre. That’s a conversation we had behind closed doors, but we all agreed that I was obsessed with things that I could do all by myself and take all the glory for. I seem like a gem, right?
I didn’t start getting outwardly emotional until I felt it well up inside me and had nowhere to put it. Part of adolescence is learning how to effectively express your emotion without punching a hole through your wall or slamming your entire body on the floor. I failed in this area. Sure, maybe my behavior wasn’t as visible to the public eye, but my way of dealing with any emotion was to bottle it up, let it fester, and eventually let it come bursting out on whatever family member was closest.
I started using the phrase “I cry because I’m frustrated,” a lot throughout my late teens and very early 20s. I was especially using them in romantic relationships when prodded about why I was getting so upset. Essentially, I was telling my partner, the world, and anyone that would listen that when I’m emotional I’m not able to coherently speak my truth. Damn, did I believe that truth for so long.
Fast forward to a couple years later and my twenty third year of existence, I’m feeling more woke than ever. I feel more in touch with my emotions and my intelligence in ways that I never thought that I would before. There are moments, though, that make me realize there are still wounds from my past that still need a remedy. There are still issues that I need to realize, accept, speak out loud, and move on from.
Like I said before, I’ve been getting really emotional for reasons that seemingly go over my head. My dad recently said I’ve been “overreacting” and I reacted as if he called me the worst curse name in the book. I couldn’t understand what triggered me in that scenario to make me SO upset.
You can look through my blog feed and learn a little bit about a past relationship that shaped who I am as a person today. I feel so strong and healthy that it’s hard to imagine that there’s still realizations for me to make about why I said or did something all those years ago. There are still connections that I can make to help me better understand myself in all of my relationships.
This is right around the time that I completely compartmentalized intelligent thoughts and emotional ones – never allowing the two to meet.
In those formative years, I thought that I had to make a clear distinction between emotion and intelligence. Every time I let a tear escape my water line, my argument suddenly became a little less valid. When conversations needed to be had, it was to be done without tears and without too much emotion behind my words. Twenty year old Emily began to link emotion to weakness and intelligence to strength. I started to hold my tongue when I knew the tears were coming. I started to question my intelligence if I felt anything in my head. Most of all, I started to question who I was as a person.
Now, my dad never taught me to think like this, nor did he mean any harm in saying that I was overreacting. But, he did unleash a dragon that felt like her intelligence and emotion could not coincide in the same castle – which absolutely destroyed me.
Let’s just get something abundantly clear here; and I’m saying this just as much for you as I am for me. I am a grown-ass, educated woman. I can properly express how I’m feeling because I know the words to do so, I’ve been practicing them since I was way too smart for my own age, remember? I don’t need anyone to write my narrative for me or tell the world how they think I feel. Got it? That being said, I am a grown-ass, educated woman! So, me crying because I feel bad does not diminish my intelligence level. If I feel the urge to cry, I can cry! If I feel the need to scream, I can scream! Having emotion does not equate to a lower intelligence level, nor does it make your argument weaker.
You know you’ve felt that prickle behind your eyes of tears at exactly the wrong time, but what exactly makes it the wrong time? Tears can help us put up clear boundaries of where our heart and minds want to go, even when society is pushing us to keep going. Tears can help signal to the world that you fucking care! Tears can tell stories that sometimes, even all the words in the dictionary can’t be strung together to tell. You, my beautiful reader, are not less because of the emotion that you let out of your body. It’s what you do with that emotion, how you harness it, and how you put it back into the world that makes or breaks you. Because emotion and intellect together, they are an extremely powerful thing.
Smart & I cry a lot…. I won’t be sorry for that.
So, I’m no scientist. I haven’t looked at the scans of a brain with all the colors to give an official answer. But, if I could put all my money on one argument it would be: Yes, you CAN be intelligent and emotional all at the same time. Furthermore, anyone that’s telling you otherwise is scared of how powerful you are when you are both… I’m just saying.
Have you ever had a problem separating your intellectual thought from your emotional ones? If so, why are you separating them? Get into the DMs of any of the socials below to tell me your story!
