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To A High School Grad, Sincerely 5 Years Later

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!

Edited by Vanessa Reza. Contact info can be found on the ‘Contact Me’ page.

Don’t Worry, Be Happy

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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!

Edited by Vanessa Reza. Contact info can be found on the ‘Contact Me’ page.

Can you be Intelligent AND Emotional?

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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!

Edited by Vanessa Reza. Contact info can be found on the ‘Contact Me’ page.

Rejection From My Dream School was my Saving Grace

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At the spunky young age of 19, I applied to the Journalism school of my first college. Having previously gotten every job I interviewed for, accepted into every college I applied to, and received a slew of different awards and scholarships, I was in for a rude awakening when it came to rejection.

Here’s that spunky 19 year old I was talking about circa 2016.

At the time, I was writing remotely for an online company based out of New York City. I had some pretty good contacts that were ready to write a letter of recommendation. There was published content that was doing well across all of social media. The cherry on top of the cake was that two of my best friends were already in the J-School, and they had both put their seal of approval on my application.

I thought it was going to be a piece of cake. Being one of the twenty percent of admitted students wasn’t something I really worried about or lost sleep over because, in my mind, it was already a done deal. Well, I didn’t get in. I got a big fat rejection email.

Sure, it gave me encouragement to apply next semester, but it felt like a hard slap in the face. Rejection feels like that, ya know? It feels like the reality that you’ve bought into about yourself or your life is just crumbling around you. At the time, there was no brightside. While other friends got to pursue classes within the school and take steps forward, I felt like I was stuck in quicksand.

I’ve come to accept that everything in my life has happened for a reason. You can read a little more about this in my blog “Purpose From Pain.” Part of that is understanding that rejection also has its place among my life lessons. Getting a big, fat rejection from the school that I thought was my dream was a lesson I needed.

Right about the time when I felt like I was going to make something of myself, even though I didn’t get into the J-School a couple years before.

First, it forced me to give a shit about my writing. If you read a couple of my blogs, you’ll find that they’re very much written in a conversational tone. Most of the time, I’m speaking out loud when I’m writing. It’s always just made me connect to what I was saying more. That might have been what the media company in New York was looking for and what the audience of my first BlogSpot blog was looking for, but it wasn’t for everything.

Having a highly regarded school tell me that I needed some time to keep working made me realize that I didn’t know everything. I wasn’t the perfect writer that I had originally thought and just because my mom was sharing all my stuff on Facebook does NOT mean I’m ready to write a novel.

Second, being rejected made me start to rethink my plans. Whether or not it was supposed to, the rejection definitely made me question whether or not I was destined to be a writer. I walked into my first college class thinking that I wanted to write for The New York Times. This rejection is what made me start to consider communication. It made me start to realize that people could make money doing the thing that I was skipping class for; social media.

I had always wanted to minor in Political Science, but being rejected from the Journalism school made me want to pursue that even more. I declared dual-degree student the semester after with majors in Political Science and Communications. A transfer of schools would just turn into two Bachelor of Arts in those fields. I got more education than I ever thought I would because of that initial rejection.

The time that I proved that I did make something of myself, without the school I once dreamed of. Reject me and beat me down, but don’t ever expect me to stay there. Rejection was the match that lit my fire.

Lastly, rejection eventually made me find the beauty in the imperfections of my work. Like I said before, the lack of admittance might have made me realize that I was not the all-knowing writing prophecy. It also made me take my writing for face value. There are things that I am ridiculously good at when I write – connecting to people, telling a story, and painting a picture for my audience. It made me realize that I was writing to speak, which is definitely something I want my future career to involve. It made me realize that even though I can write 5-paragraph essays and research papers, I don’t think I want to do that for a living.

The best friends that I talked about earlier are writing in the perfect way for them. My beautiful editor, Vanessa, writes so eloquently and I won’t be surprised in the least when her first book hits the shelves. She saves all of my blogs from having mistakes up the wazoo and offers so many amazing ideas. We’re two VERY different writers, but that rejection made me see the beauty of the craft again. It made me recognize that we’re artists painting what we find beautiful.

So, maybe you’re going through a terrible break up, you’ve lost your only source of income, or you’ve just got the rejection email from your dream school, and you’re questioning everything about you. Rejection hurts. Sometimes, it’s life’s way of putting a yield sign right in front of you so you learn to enjoy the drive. Other times, it’s a stop sign that you desperately needed to realize that your navigation was WAY off.

Being rejected from my dream school was my saving grace in finding my path and my true self. Maybe, just maybe, the pain you’re going through has a purpose too?

Has anything happened in your life that hurt but you’re thankful for now? Tell me your story by getting into the DMs on any of my socials below! I want to hear from you!

Edited by Vanessa Reza. Contact info can be found on the ‘Contact Me’ page.

When Hard Work Isn’t Enough

April 21, 2020June 10, 2020Leave a comment

Yesterday, I watched someone I love get absolutely shafted out of not one, but three totally-deserved awards. Before you call out my bias, I’ve seen nominees get the same bullshit treatment because of the pettiness in someone’s heart, the preexisting prejudice against a program, and underlying favoritism. Obviously, I’m trying to keep this vague for the privacy of those involved, but I’m pissed off and I want to scream it from the rooftops!

I understand that this blog post reads more like a “personal Facebook status” in the words of my amazing editor (Thank you, Vanessa. Please hire her. She seriously is amazing). Just stick with me here and this vagueness will all have a purpose. Do I envy their job to choose between nominees who all deserve an award? No. Every single one of the nominations were valid, in my humble opinion. But, when the trend is always against one program because of your beef with ONE person on staff? Not cool. For those of you who did win, it was absolutely well deserved. Congratulations! They just missed a couple awards in what I viewed was an attempt to “stick it to the man”, which is just so on brand it’s disgusting. Those “couple awards” are not just with people I share blood with either… a lot of people got fucked over in this.

Okay, enough vague chatter. If you know, you know. So, what advice can I offer the person that I love? As someone who’s not directly involved, I’m angry. So, those who are have fire coming out of their ears – as they should! What do we do with that anger, hurt, and heartbreak? What can we learn from situations when we get totally robbed out of the recognition that we deserve? What can we do when someone else’s actions affect us, but we really can’t do anything about it? What do we do when all our hard work feels like it goes down the drain without answers or rationale?

I sat around thinking of the best way to say this today. Honestly, I can’t think of a way that doesn’t suck. So, I’m just going to say it and hopefully, you’ll stick with me: sometimes, hard work isn’t enough.

Alright, ya’ll still here? Don’t get me wrong. I could write a novel about the advantages of hard work around your life. But as I watched the person that I love question if he worked hard enough, I was reminded that sometimes life kicks us really hard just to see if we can get up again. We can work as hard as our muscles will let us and as fast as our bones move, but sometimes life puts a big hurdle in front of us just to see if we can jump.

Sometimes, there’s not a rationale either. Sometimes you do every single thing right. You show up, you work hard, you treat people right, and you give off positive energy that the world is asking for but somebody doesn’t like you that day and punished you for it. It was never about how hard you worked. It was about them; their insecurities and their power struggle.

Hard work is enough when it comes to running toward your goals in a full out sprint. Those bumps, though, they don’t discriminate against how fast you’re running. The person that’s at a slow jog probably navigates these bumps easier. The person that’s at a sprint probably gets knocked on their ass every single time. Yet, they still get up and they still sprint.

Sometimes, my loves, life isn’t fair. That’s not me saying that as your baby boomer Grandma who is invalidating your feelings. That’s being realistic. If you walk through life thinking that only good things happen to good people and only bad things happen to bad people, you’re in for a rude awakening. Truth is, we get thrown the good, bad, ugly, beautiful, confusing, vulnerable, emotional, funny, heartwarming, and so many more to teach us lessons. No matter what your faith is or how you feel about God, Allah, presence, or even lack thereof. It’s a scientific fact that our brains take our experiences to turn them into little connections in our brain for lessons on how to act in the future.

I didn’t say this to the person who was suffering because it felt kind of off topic, but I’m going to say it now. No one looks up to a bitch that hasn’t struggled. That sounds very judgemental and maybe it was, but truly no one looks up to people who don’t go through something. Please, prove me wrong, but people don’t idolize others who don’t work hard or go through something to get where they are. I mean, people with really successful businesses, careers, or activism go through something. It’s a fact. Prove me wrong.

So, even if you’re planning on walking the most perfect path, there’s going to be pain, loss, and vulnerable times that don’t make any sense in the moment. Grand scheme, though, they just might.

So, what can we honestly take away from all of this so that it doesn’t make us want to fight someone like Bad Girls Club?

Life tests us with hurdles to see how we’ll get up
Sometimes people suck & they want to see you fail
Bumps look different to different people depending on how hard their working
You get a mixture of experiences thrown at you
Those who lack struggle aren’t the ones we care about long term

All of these pills are hard to swallow in their own way. I would consider myself a sprinter. I work hard at whatever I’m doing, but a couple of large bumps made for some scary falls and made it hard to sprint without being scared again. Even now, it’s hard to put all of my effort into something. I fear I’ll fall again… but that’s the test. Now, I’ve made getting up when I’m down a habit, a brand and a priority. People expect it. I expect it from myself.

This blog is dedicated to the kids who got knocked down as a result of one adult’s beef with the staff member of one program. It’s dedicated to the kids who 100% deserved the awards they were given and praised for, but also for the kids that didn’t receive an award to project pain. This is for the girl that sang through nodes in all of her lead performances. This is for the kid that had to learn a brand new part and reteach an entire dance right before opening night. This is for the kid that played the Charlie Chaplin in the first high school rendition of Chaplin the Musical but didn’t win. This is for those who played The Music Man in the “The Music Man” which won Best Musical, but didn’t win best lead. This is for all the blood, sweat, and tears that have been put onto that stage, a run that has gotten taken away for a pandemic, and each ounce of hard work that you put in. This is not for the petty adult issues that caused these kids to wonder whether they’re picking the right path or what they could have done better. It’s not pitting kids against each other, but recognizing the beauty that came together to create such brilliance. This is about recognizing their hard work – what it ALWAYS should have been about. So yeah, your hard work wasn’t enough to push through the politics of the Jerry Awards, (whoops, that’s some tea….) but it was enough for every audience member, the writers of Chaplin: The Musical, and everyone that genuinely matters in your journey toward greatness.

People watch us when we fall. They applaud us when we get back up and they only notice again the next time we fall. So, you need to be the one that notices when you’re sprinting. You need to be the one that notices when you’re moving fast and powerfully. You need to be the pat on your back that says, “Wow, I got kicked down, spit on, and laughed at, but look at me now.” That needs to come from you. Grand scheme: if you are working your hardest, that’s all you can do. No ifs, ands, or buts. So stop beating yourself up about it, stop questioning your worth, and get back up every damn time.

At the end of the show, or the job, or crazy hard school project, you’re not going to remember who thought you weren’t worthy. You’re going to remember who thought you were. Make sure you’re one of your own biggest fans.

Organization in the Midst of Chaos

April 18, 2020September 4, 2020Leave a comment

I’m in the middle of rebranding, dealing with Wisconsin unemployment, and moving back into my good old childhood home in this pandemic. You could say that I’m surrounded by a little bit of chaos. I’m sure that everyone has their own chaos that they’re dealing with in the face of this unexpected pandemic.

I’ve really tried to figure out the key to keeping myself afloat during all of this. Everyday I try to figure out the right words to string together to make you feel a little better after reading my posts. It can get a little exhausting, especially when those keys haven’t necessarily presented themselves in your own life yet.

One month into quarantine, I feel like I have a little gem I can share with all of you on the World Wide Web…. organization. I know, it seems almost unnecessary when your daily list of tasks includes brushing your teeth twice and making sure your dog stays alive alongside you. I get it. You may not be planning school, interviews, or work shifts in your planner right now, but that doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook when it comes to organizing your new kicks (even if it’s for a couple months before things are back to normal).

I’ve looked like this during quarantine….

My friends would all tell you I thrive on organization now, but I haven’t always been this way. School came really easy to me (yes, I’m flexing), so the need for any sort of organization wasn’t even on my radar. When I got to college and realized in the first week that I didn’t even know how to take notes, organization became something I started to obsess over, research, and implement wherever I could.

No, I’m not telling you that you have to make a color coded Excel document with every single thing that you’ll do throughout the month on it. I mean, I do, but “different strokes for different folks,” right? So, let’s find a happy medium between chaos and that Excel sheet, okay?

I posted this little cutie about school notes, but having color coordinated planners, reminders, and business notes has been KILLER in staying organized even during pandemic turmoil.

Alright, I hate myself so much for writing this. Mornings are important. I’m not a morning person…. AT ALL. I would rather stay up all night finishing a project than get up early to start it, anybody with me? Honestly though, having a little bit of organization in a morning routine is essential to implementing it in other places throughout your life. Even if you wake up saying “I hate EmyDBlog for making me even consider this,” try to set and alarm and wake up at a certain time each day during quarantine. I’ve really been striving for 9am. Everybody’s morning routines are different and I’ll definitely be doing a podcast (which can be found here: https://www.instagram.com/afreshstartpodcast/) on what I do in mine, but try and build some habits in your morning that just start to feel “normal.” Quarantine isn’t ever going to feel normal even if you have NOTHING on your to-do list, some structure is going to make you feel more productive and a little happier!

Okay, this one might be a stretch for “beginner” level organization. I encourage anyone(and I really do mean anyone) that I talk to about mental health, to 1) journal and 2) habit track. For me, journalling is a big part of organization because it is the part in my day that I get to decompress what I’m feeling. It gets all those yucky emotions out so I don’t carry them with me into the next day or my next project. Even if it’s two sentences,it’s good to just make that a habit. Habit tracking is a little harder, but can be really rewarding if you start doing it correctly.

Big tip: find a cute journal – you’ll want to write more. Other journals with prompts are available all over Amazon & Target!

I started habit tracking as a freshman in college. Honestly, it was because I would forget to take my medicine and needed a reminder in my planner. As weird as this sounds, checking one of those boxes made me feel accomplished when I had felt like total shit the rest of the day. Habit tracking has opened my eyes to habits that I absolutely don’t want (like my intake of Mountain Dew) and habits that are completely falling to the curb (like the fact that I do NOT drink enough water). There are amazing apps for habit tracking. I’m tracking a lot of different things throughout the week to analyze later, but I started by looking at 2-3 things daily! You can learn so much about yourself by starting small.

Obviously, there’s so much more that goes into organization. I’ll definitely be adding more posts about this, but my last little tidbit for my time being in quarantine? Make your damn bed. You can call me Sergeant EmyD over here. Hey, maybe even add it to your habit tracker??? But seriously, making your bed gives you a fundamental level of organization that supersedes all other chaos in life. Fake it ‘till you make it, right? My whole life could be in shambles, but my bed being made makes me feel like I at least have some of my shit together.

These are beginning steps, but soon you’ll be changing things around you’re space that just make you feel fundamentally more organized. Here’s the beautiful thing, you get to go at your own pace!

Organization, like most other things in your life, is centered around habits. As you probably already know, it takes a while to build those. There’s not one single Instagram queen or viral blogger who just woke up to a million followers and the most organized lifestyle of all time. Organization is learned. So, if during quarantine you’ve “learned” that your lifestyle includes waking up at 3pm, eating only take out, and going to bed at 5am, I have no judgement for you. BUT, if you’re unsatisfied with those habits you absolutely can unlearn them and learn to be a person that gets up at 5am, eats kale for every lunch, and goes to bed at 8pm. Over here – I’m going to be a happy medium. Whatever you’re doing to stay cool as a cucumber during this time is totally valid. But, if you want just a little bit of structure to this total shit show that is an international pandemic, don’t say I’ve never given you anything 😉

Questions on my organization plan? Comments on other amazing ways to say organized? Let me know in my DMs on IG, Twitter, or Facebook (@EmyDBlog) or email me at emydblog@gmail.com today! I’d love to hear your story!

I Got Laid Off Due to COVID-19

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I’m doing my absolute best to remain calm. We’ve seen before that I’m not good at dealing with A) change, B) financial insecurity, or C) anxiety. So, this is a trying time for me. I’m trying to remind myself that I’m with my family and, if I do get sick, I have them. I’m trying to remind myself that my parents have already offered to help me out with my bills through the end of my lease; if it came to that, of course.

Life’s little St. Patrick’s Day gift to me and my coworkers was the restaurant most of us have called home for 30+ hours a week to-go food only. No dine-in guests means no servers and no tips. . Plainly put, the restaurant doesn’t need us right now. As of March 17th, I have been laid off from my job. I’ll have one more paycheck before I no longer have an income.

For all intents and purposes, I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m trying to remind myself that I’m with my family and, if I do get sick, I have them. I’m trying to remind myself that my parents have already offered to help me out with my bills through the end of my lease; if it comes to that, of course. Sure, I’ll be in a financially uncomfy spot for a while. I also might go a little loco inside my childhood home for the foreseeable future. However, I don’t have a family to support. I don’t have a mortgage. I don’t have to provide food for anyone. I don’t have crazy loans… well, hold up, I do actually. But, they’re from school, which means they can be postponed in situations like this.

Am I scared? Fuck yes. Am I nervous about what my life is going to look like in a month? Absolutely. Am I getting more and more anxious about this as information is released? For sure. I have not, however, had an anxiety attack. Every time I feel it coming on, I remind myself that I’m blessed for the position that I’m in. Though I’m absolutely allowed to feel nervous and validated in my fear, there are others who have less resources and less support.

I work with people whose entire livelihood is dependent on the business of the restaurant. They work at 3 jobs, all of which have been closed due to the spread of this terrible virus. Missing even one paycheck is going to be detrimental to their entire family. I have the option to apply for unemployment. For one reason or another, not everyone does. I have two parents who have a lot of job security right now that can offer me my old room back. They want me to temporarily move in and depend on them until all of this passes. They have the ability to help me with bills as I start to chip away at the money I’ve saved. Moral of the story: I’m okay. Others are not. Others need as much help and resources as they possibly can get.

COVID-19 is truly scaring the shit out of me. In the last 36 hours, our cases have doubled in Wisconsin. No, I’m not scared of getting sick because as the media says, I would probably be fine as a young, decently-healthy person. I have had a gnarly cough for about a month that feels exactly like the bronchitis I had at this time last year, so I know my lungs are feeling a little tired. Even after that, I’m still not scared of getting the virus. I’m scared for my mom, who has been working tirelessly to keep an assisted living facility on lockdown. I’m scared for my grandma and uncle who are extremely immunocompromised. I’m scared for my friends that take medications every day, which might make them an easier target for all of this.

As it has with the majority of victims, the infection will pass. The thing that keeps me up at night is life just grinding to a halt because no one really knows what to do. The panic that everyone is exhibiting is what goes on inside an anxious person’s mind at a majority of times. Usually, though, we can watch normal life occurring around us and use coping mechanisms to calm ourselves down. In this space, there’s no reassurance from the outside. Everyone is just as scared as you are. No one knows what to do just like you don’t really know what to do. It makes me nervous that American’s panic is not being met with secure plans of action or support for those out of a job. American’s don’t even have the privilege of believing their executive branch because it’s stance goes from “not a real threat” to “always knew it was going to be dangerous” in just a matter of days.

Panic comes from fear. There’s not a lot of things that are strong enough to fight that force besides kindness, patience, and empathy. This is not the time to point fingers at people across the world who are experiencing loss and uncertainty at rates even higher than we are. This is not the time to stimulate the bank accounts of people with millions of dollars, but the time to ensure that working class Americans don’t lose their homes or starve to death. This is not the time for a “every man for himself” mentality, but for us to help those in our community with any resources we might have a surplus of – even if that surplus is just positivity in the face of so much chaos.

So, yes. I was one of the thousands of Americans that was laid off from their job as coronavirus rages through each state. I’m one of the thousands that’s looking to our leaders for support, whether it be financial, information, or physical.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. My absolute favorite line in The Lion King is “I know that the clouds will clear and that the sun will shine.” This will pass. It may not seem like it now. It might get much, much worse before it gets any better. Until then, reach out to your loved ones, read a book, do a puzzle, listen to my podcast, learn a new language, play a video game. If the government urging you to do so isn’t enough, stay home because it keeps people that are at larger risk of dying from this disease safe from transmission that you may or may not be feeling. If that’s not enough, stay home because it sets an example for those around you that you give a fuck about this. And if that’s not enough…. Stay home because it might allow people like me and my coworkers to get back to work faster.

Keep up with my social distancing on all forms of social media (@EmyDBlog on Insta, Twitter, and Facebook). If you’re feeling overwhelmed by all of this, please don’t hesitate to reach out! If you want to chat with me via email, you can do so at emydsaliby@gmail.com.

A Month Dedicated to Women

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I don’t know if you guys have gotten the memo yet, but there are a lot of really strong women in my life. I mean, I wouldn’t be this bad of a bitch if there wasn’t!!

This year, I spent most of International Women’s Day at work or napping my long shifts after work. But, I just love that day so damn much. Part of the reason why I chose my major, Political Science, was that it’s particularly dominated by men and that didn’t really sit right with me. I wanted to be part of a wave of a generation that changes the tides. I wanted Women’s Rights to become a top priority, income inequality to become a thing of the past, and reproductive rights to finally be given as the human right. I haven’t gotten overly political on this blog (yet!), but the time is coming folks!

Now, getting a B.A. in Political Science as a woman does not suddenly make me the feminist that everyone should strive to be. Absolutely not. Acknowledging a problem from the safety of a classroom or behind the screen of your Twitter does nothing. What am I actually doing to change the tides for women in politics?

I’ve grown up hearing about some pretty badass ladies. Sacajawea, Rosa Parks, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Malala, Eleanor Roosevelt, Frida Kahlo, Michelle Obama and so many more cultural, social, and political icons. These women changed the tides. These women woke up in the morning with a fire in their bellies to change something – so they did. They used their art, words, sports, education, or body to stand up to show the world a women that it previously had not seen. Here’s why a month of celebrating the women of the world is such a kicker for me: there was nothing that marked these women as “different” as they were born. As infants, they were not suddenly destined to change the world, they made it their purpose.

I know that sounds a little ridiculous. Getting up every day and saying that you’re going to change the world, right? We have to remember though, that it probably wasn’t their lifelong goal either. Rather, they saw something that they didn’t like. They saw someone being treated poorly. They saw injustice. Instead of watching, throwing their arms up, and assuming that they had no role in the change, they took charge.

You guys know that I haven’t always felt that way, nor have I wanted anything good to come out of my life. For a long time, I truly didn’t really care what happened around me. That’s just an honest and brutal truth of crippling depression.

So, International Women’s Day is about all that came before me. But, it’s also about all the ridiculously strong women that I know, love, and constantly surrounded by.

To my best friends, whose hearts are so open and loving for everyone around them. Most of them having gone through some serious shit, but still dealing with life with such grace and beauty. All of which with such a serious fire for their unique passions including nursing, writing, fashion, education, family, and so much more.

To the women of my family, who have taught me how to navigate this sometimes cruel world. They have picked me up after the nastiest of falls, dried my tears, and kept me going when all I wanted to do was fall. Not only me, but everyone in their lives. They have changed the lives of everyone around them simply for being in them.

And especially, to my mom. Who has made the life that I’m currently setting out to live possible? She is a woman that taught me never to be ashamed of my own voice, education, or body. At the end of the day, it’s her that I turn to when I don’t know what the proper dose of medicine is, or I don’t know how to handle professional situations. She is my biggest fan (I mean, my dad too but it’s about the women today) and I truly wouldn’t be here without her.

Lastly, to me. When everything in life seemed to be crashing down, you still did it. When those little thoughts told you that it would be better to just be done, you still did it. You graduated Magna Cum Laude with two Bachelor’s degrees, one of which in a field that doesn’t have a clear path for women. You’ve been published and paid for what you’ve written. People love your photos and you’ve captured so many memories to cherish for a lifetime. You’ve spoken in front of thousands of people. You’ve been a part of protests. You’ve worked your ass off. You have the world at your finger tips. Maybe you don’t feel an unbelievable surge to like go and end world hunger every time you get up in the morning, but for the first time, you’re doing something that actually matters. You did it.

I follow in the footsteps of those before me and those around me in the best ways I know how. With so much love in my heart for life, people, and this Earth. I walk forward with this urge to change something. Change someone. Not so that I can be one of the women you study, but so that I know that I fulfilled my purpose on this Earth.

On International Women’s Day, and everyday, I’m fucking proud to be a strong, independent, badass woman!

Girls Gotta Stick Together

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I don’t know if you guys get this vibe from me, but I’m definitely one of those girls that’s let the phrase “it’s so hard to get along with girls,” come out of my mouth. You know the type. My best guy friend when I graduated high school was a dude (shoutout to MC).

Don’t get me wrong, I’m dramatic. Like I’m the definition of the word. BUT, I always found it easier to get along with guys than I did girls, again you know the type. Growing up, I was closest in age to all my boy cousins – so I always wanted to fit in with them at family events. I wanted to joke around, like get all gross, and play a really rousing game of kick soccer balls as hard as we could at each other. It was fun at the time.

Lynds, Syd, and I are definitely queens in our own right, but you can see how the cousins are a little male dominated.

In middle school, I had my first super close group of all girl friends. We were all really involved in our sports, some of us were in theater, we had the cheerleader. But most of all, in that phase of our life that everyone was supposed to be like wearing the darkest shades of lipstick they could find to attract all the 6th grade boys – we were much more concerned with having fun in our little group. We went to different high schools, grew into different people, and were never nearly as close as those formative middle school years, but damn if those girls didn’t set the standard for the kind of girls I want in my life.

Keep in mind, again, that I’m dramatic. Okay? We’re all on the same page there? Cool. I was on the girls swim team and in a lot of theater. It was definitely the environment I was in and a terribly depleting self confidence level, but I kind of started to see girls as constant competition. Like, there was always something better about the girls around me. I mean, in swim, it came down to literal times… numbers on a clock. So essentially, everyone that wasn’t in your lane was someone you wanted to touch faster than. For theatre, everyone that auditioned was someone that could get the role or the spot over you. You just had to be better.

I don’t necessarily think that that mindset is isolated to young women. Young men are in constant competition to be the best in those formative years too. Regardless, it’s a fucking exhausting mindset to be in and it’s a truly a never ending race.

It’s hard to unlearn that behavior when you’ve been doing it for so long. But, right now, think of the coolest person that you possibly can. You don’t have to have met them. In your head, you probably imagined someone who’s able to relate and get along with everyone, right? The coolest people around aren’t the one’s that are mean to everyone or constantly at people’s throats. They’re the ones with genuine hearts that shine threw when you desperately need them.

I say this a little bit in a podcast about toxicity in one’s life (which you can find here: https://open.spotify.com/episode/6lTH6P96KvyRNyVgTqDIqW?si=lzAd0x8rStWNaqgo1b9AhA) You’re not going to get along with everyone. There are going to be coaches, coworkers, and bosses that you really don’t like. Part of growing up and showing maturity, though, is being able to communicate with those people in a civil way. Especially for women. We’re already at odds in the workplace and society – showing respect for everyone is just one way that you can be an ally!

Also, this is not to be confused with the fact that you should just stfu and not speak your truth. Civil disobedience has made some serious changes to this world. There’s a difference, though, between speaking up for your injustices or for the voices that aren’t always heard, and trying to stifle out a voice.

I got the international women’s sign behind my ear as my fourth tattoo because I wanted another tattoo. I wanted something behind my ear. I was feeling like a strong ass woman. Truthfully, I forget that it’s there, but it’s moment when I’m standing up for women, spreading my arms, or giving love to those who need it that I know I made the right decision.

My ex’s ex recently came to me apologizing if she had overstepped for sharing a story about her experience with him. Someone had pointed out similarities and said she was “copying” me. Nah, she just also had the unfortunate chapter that involved the same narcissistic abuser. I’m not the first to feel that way, nor am I going to be the last. Sharing my experience does not mean that hers didn’t happen! It got me thinking about how quick people are to pin women against each other. Online, in person, whatever.

We know that some of the most powerful moments are those that we support one another. A strong woman can change the tides, but a strong woman and her army??? DAMN.

As I’ve grown up, I still find it really easy to get along with guys. Now, however, I have a fierce urge to stand up for, connect with, and love the women around me as well. I have been on this earth for 22 years dealing with just some of the bullshit that women have to go through – having each other as allies just makes this world a better place. So, yeah, that phrase that the nicest person you’ll ever meet is the drunk girl in the bathroom is totally true. What if we didn’t live in a world where alcohol was needed to break down those barriers? What if showing sincere affection and compassion for others was what was ingrained, rather than hypothetical competition? Just food for thought.

Find a crowd that makes you feel good & that cherishes you for being unapologetically you. Ladies, I can promise you that there’s nothing better than walking into the function with some of your best friends, looking great, and knowing that you all have each other’s backs.

Who’s your girl group? Who makes you feel like a badass bitch? I wanna hear about it! Let’s celebrate womanhood!! Slide into my DMs on Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook. Or, email me at emydsaliby@gmail.com to chat with me today.

Let’s Talk Migraines!

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First of all, any of you that are about to say “migraines are just really bad headaches…” I’m gonna need you to exit stage left. This blog’s is not for you. I could rant and ramble through all the facts on why that’s wrong and I won’t change your mind. But, if you’ve ever had a migraine before, witnessed someone with a migraine, felt chronic pain, or feel empathy for others this one is for you, my little angels.

I didn’t start getting migraines until senior year of high school. I thought I did because I’ve always been really sensitive to light and sound. I got a LOT of headaches because I was swimming so lots of long days in chemical filled rooms with loud starts and yelling. When I wasn’t doing that, I was on a stage with bright lights, loud music, and microphones. Genuinely, I don’t remember a time that I wasn’t getting headaches at least a couple of times a week, but ibuprofen could usually knock those guys out.

I know you guys live for my throwback pictures, so don’t say I never gave you anything.

Two in a row!! I must be feeling some kind of way

So, I thought a bad headache was a migraine when I was like 16. It was my head and it hurt. What’s the difference, ya know? DUDE. I got my first migraine in the winter of my senior year. I had just finished a dance camp for show choir where we do like day long camps to perfect the show. It’s long, grueling, and kind of stressful because you know you have to compete in like two weeks.

I’m not sure if it was lack of water, stress, the seasons changing, my depression, or a mixture of a million other things, but my head started to feel a little tight. Like, my neck and my shoulders felt like they were carrying a bowling ball and about to crack under the pressure. I tried to sleep it off and I could even move without sending shooting pains from the base of my head to my temple to right behind my eyes and all the way back around. The tiny little lights that showed that my phone was charging was like someone flashing a strobe in my face. It was kind of like I had super sonic hearing too, I felt like I could hear the neighbor down the street cough and it was being amplified right into my eardrum. This wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced.

I’ve already kind of talked about pain in a blog. But, you body does everything it possibly can to get rid of the pain it feels. That’s why you feel fevers or your blood pressure spikes sometimes. It’s those little cells fighting off the ones that they don’t necessarily recognize or like. When I get migraines, my body usually tries to ward off the pain by making me really nauseous, giving me a fever, or making me light-headed.

If you’re someone who’s dealt with chronic pain or even like pain from a surgery or something, you know that ibuprofen can only do so much. It can only take so much of the edge off and it can only last for so long. After suffering for hours, I started to see these little spots in my vision. It was like I had starred into the sun. They were little gaps in my vision where there are bright spots – I later learned that people call those auras. I’m pretty familiar with those now.

My parents took me to the hospital when I genuinely couldn’t stop crying and every time I sobbed my head just sent a shooting pain around my head. I had my first ‘migraine cocktail” at 17 years old. It’s an IV mixture of Benadryl, anti-nausea, and another hardcore painkiller. It’s uncomfortable to say the absolute least… you have an IV in your inner arm and cold fluids coursing into you. It’s not amazing, but not having a migraine is worth it.

It’s been 5 years since my first migraine. I’ve gone through about 4 different kinds of medicine to try and get rid of them. I talked a little bit about this in a past blog, but I had issues like weight gain, irritability, and other really shitty side effects because of medications used to prevent migraines.

It’s scary when it’s your head too. You can get an Xray to look at the bones in your arm, but when it’s your head, it’s your brain. You can’t see it. You have to get in a big tube to diagnose it. It’s just always a little bit more scary.

Right now, I take about 100 mg of a drug called topirimate. It’s also been helpful when I was waking up in the middle of the night and eating a bunch of stuff. It’s been the most successful of everything that we’ve tried.

This is the most recent time that I’ve needed to get a migraine cocktail. Pardon my french, but it’s the fucking worst. Lately, I’ve been losing my vision in my left eye, sometimes in both. Which makes literally everything that I’m used to doing virtually impossible.

I don’t get them a lot anymore. Which means that the medicine is doing it’s job, thank god. But, as with any medication, there is some hiccups. I would say I get maybe one migraine a month. Which is far better than getting one to two a week as I was. When I do get them, my coworkers have been so helpful in getting shifts covered last minute and understanding that I’m pretty much a walking zombie.

It’s really hard to explain. It’s really hard to go through. But, as with anything on this blog, the sun will shine through tomorrow. It might be shitty now. It might be painful, confusing, and just annoying… but damnit, we will prevail, my little angels.

What do you want hear about next? What’s going on in your life that you might want to read about in a blog? Slide into my DMs on any socials or email me at emydsaliby@gmail.com to recommend a blog!