It Gets Better - Blog Posts

First self portrait I’ve done in a while, wanted to do something more expressive

please

It's June again so this is your reminder that Pride is for...

People who are out and open

Those who aren't out yet (or ever)

Folks who can't be out right now for their safety

People still figuring this whole thing out

Someone trying out a new label or identity for the first time

Folks in various stages of transition or transformation

Those who came before, who made things better for us now

The generations after us, who inspire us to keep making things better

We see you, you're valid, and Pride is for you too. <3

"You are still here. And that is everything." 💚

From Matt Haig - The Comfort Book

alternative depression tips for when you read the ‘depression tips’ post and laugh hollowly, bc only in your fondest dreams could you manage to do any of those things

dry shampoo and face wipes are your friend. if you can brush your teeth you’ll feel maybe 2% less disgusting. wash your hands.

smelling nice is gr9, rubbing moisturiser in is Exhausting. perfume, scented candles and linen sprays are way quicker.

try to change your clothes at least every other day. wear sweats or pjs as often as you physically can.

you don’t need to put on underwear if you’re not leaving the house (that goes double for bras and binders)

drink any water that hasn’t been sitting out on your desk for a week. dust doesn’t taste good. stay hydrated. I fill one of those 2 litre bottles in the morning and keep it with me so I don’t have to get up and walk to the sink.

re: cleaning, try and keep one room vaguely clean. if everywhere else is a shit hole that’s fine, but you can go sit in your one tidy space and chill for a bit. it’s fine if that’s the bathroom or just the corner of your bedroom where there’s no crap on the floor. find a tiny space that isn’t horrifying and sit in it.

music helps.

eat a thing. +5 points if it has a fresh fruit or vegetable in it. take out is acceptable if it comes with veggies.

if your creativity curled up and died a long time ago try and find something that at least reminds you what it was like to feel inspired. watch a film, look at some art (probably not your own), read a thing. if that makes you feel worse, just?? don’t think about it??

grounding yourself is actually really helpful. open the window and breathe for 2 minutes. lay down on the floor and feel your whole body (unless you don’t want to in which case: lay down and don’t feel anything except the floor) 

human interaction is Good. text a family member you don’t hate if you have one. message a friend. reply to someone’s personal post with ‘SAME’. make your own personal post asking the void for validation. stare out the window at people and remind yourself that life exists outside of the black space inside your head. whatever works.

pets are amazing, agreed. watch some funny animal vines if you don’t have one.

Update on me 😊

So I've been on my anti anxiety meds for four months now and I must say..... I feel so much better now. My anxiety is still there which sucks but am able to shut it up easier now. I also stopped googling symptoms which is a huge thing and I don't ask for reinsurance that much anymore but sometimes when I get scared and Jeff decides to be a dick ( Jeff by the way is what I call my anxiety lmao) I ask but only once or twice. I also don't freak out about every little sensations i have!!!!! if I get a headache, I'm not terrified of it. Even though there has been good things, my anxiety is still there which means I still have some of my stuff still. But what really matters is that am learning how not to let it affect me anymore and I'm learning how to fight because im gonna be honest, its never gonna go away, but if I can get it to be not so loud, that's what matters. 

Unchaperoned Thoughts #1

I have been thinking lately about what I want out of my life. Everything feels stagnant, but the only constant is me. I am the one who is holding me back. I am the one who hesitates on making the first move. I don’k know why, I just do. I know it doesn't make me happy, but I've been doing it so long its hard being social again.

I need to start trusting the fact that I am a likeable person and I deserve to be loved and be surrounded by people who appreciate me for who I am. Surround myself with people who challenge me to grow and change for the better. It doesn’t matter that some people won’t like me or find me a bit weird, because they won’t be staying in my life and that’s fine.

So here’s my first challenge:  Find 3 people outside the people you know that you vibe with and accept you for you. There is no time limit take your time and try not to stress yourself out. It’ll be fine.x

A special shoutout to LGBTQ+ Mormons and exmos this pride; to you in the closet, sitting awkwardly in sacrament meeting, finding excuses to duck out of homophobic Sunday school lessons, you, wearing a rainbow pin to girl's camp, you out and proud and still attending, enduring side eye from sisters and comments to "maybe tone it down" from your bishop. You, afraid to bring your partner home, you who's only Mormon on Sundays but can't bear to let your parents down (earthly and heavenly). To you who took the bravest step and left the church and your community, and feel like you'll never find a new one. To you who hears "no way you were a mormon!" but are still unravelling the trauma of purity culture.

I see you.

I love you.

It gets better.

Tumblr is great except for when you’re scrolling through your dash daydreaming about your favorite blorbos holding hands and doing cute shit and then like a eighteen wheeler from left field you’re hit by a post for an obscure ship you haven’t thought about since the before times.

Nowhere else is my dash a cement mixer of every hyperfixation I’ve had since I was in middle school and I think that’s great.

Today

I laughed until my abs ached with a coworker over silly emails. I wrote texts in iambic pentameter at the bus stop for the fun of it. A baby leaned on my chest like I was the safest place in the world, and another stretched her arms up to me to be held like I could bear her to the moon itself. A book about emotions during Holy Week written for toddlers moved me so much I read it twice. I walked briskly, squinting into warm sunshine, the brightest in days. I saw Jesus more clearly in the character of Moses by reading Acts 7 as if for the first time, I empathized with Paul as I reflected on this murderer going before his old enemies to declare his new allegiance, the shame, the fear. I marveled that Stephen saw Jesus standing at the right hand of God, a Chekhov’s gun I recalled in my class this evening, which, by the way, was the best I’ve been to so far. I realized it’s all about the long slow work of building a community. All of it. This is the work of God Himself. And we image Him in a thousand little ways, with our singing and storytelling and desire to create beautiful, uncorrupted things. Tears pricked my eyes as I realized this. I cooked myself a delicious dinner from scratch while singing Sondheim with my roommate, and put away leftovers for tomorrow. I ate peanut M&Ms and pineapple upside down cake, and felt food freedom and joy in my body. This body can hold two hefty babies at once. This body can sprint to the bus stop and jog up the escalator. This body can do a silly little dance in the kitchen and slide on the tile in socks. I felt seen in my botticelli shirt, known as people recognized that not once but twice I’ve worn artwork. I gave Abby a big hug. I spoke of church without shame in my class, though my heart raced before. I puzzled over the poem mine own John poynz on the metro, missed my stop, and had to backtrack. I read Dracula and chuckled at how girlhood hasn’t changed in 100 or 1000 years. Humans have always laughed and cried and shared salacious stories with their friends. I fretted over what to wear to the movies tomorrow night to see my friends all together. I felt useful and accomplished today. I felt so, so human today. I nearly cried euphoric tears while washing dishes. What greater joy could there be than to be alive on a Wednesday? What greater hope could there be than a realer, truer, freer life to come?

There is no poem that I could write to say

In better terms than this plain journaling

The wonders of existing in the world

Embodied, in community, and free.

I’m weak and I’m decaying, sure, that’s true

But I will never be this young again

And never have more clarity of thought

Or lightness in my heart than I do now.

Great God, what gift you’ve given me to see

That greatness isn’t some ambitious goal

Or changing the whole world, just baby steps,

and loving others through the little things.

Miss Lois told me that and she was right.

Amen and glory hallelujah, Lord!