“it is important to celebrate the person you are presently, not the person you are trying to become, you must honor yourself at whatever stage of growth you are in.”

who is to say you don’t get a do over?
or that it’s too late?
or you’re too old?
or it just doesn’t fit the narrative of the expected right now?
i mean. what is the limiting factor other than yourself? your fear? your pride.

i remember sitting at the top of the death star. looking out at campus. and i remember the weird feeling that whole scenario gave me. i don’t know why my heads been floating in the past, but i do think there’s a plethora of lessons… meanings… signs… that i ignored out of my own fragility and illness. for whatever reason i feel like i’m sifting through the sands for the golden nuggets of “WHY?” …because we’re all constantly trying to make sense of these events all strung together like mismatched beads, and seeing where it went right, wrong, or rode gently in neutral through. i mean. i was a lovesick person. still am. insecure person. still am. hopeful person. still am. regretful, resentful person. still am. but in what ways did life aggravate those traits to a higher degree, to a degree so out of my control. i mean. is it all reactive? what or who was i mirroring? is it a past mirror? or present? is it my inner child? fuck.
analytics and therapy do not coexist happily.
sometimes i wonder what relaxation really feels like.
i feel like i’m just constantly stressed. and i know physiologically it’s going to impact me so much as i age. it already has.
the way my muscles ache so much longer than they used to. the way my eyes strain. the way i get random intense headaches. all that orbital eyeball pain.
but the past two nights, i can say i’ve made some sort of progress with my sleep. i’ve turned over after shutting my laptop closed and fallen asleep.
that’s right. without having a video playing or someone elses voice to distract me from my inner thoughts. i remember all the nights i used to just think before going to bed. and think nice things. like last night i felt so grateful… i just listed things i was appreciative in this life until i fell asleep. i remember struggling to find at least ten at the beginning of this journey.

The Waves, Virginia Woolf

being alone with yourself. and then your thoughts. and then hopefully feeling the oneness this fucking book keeps talking about.
i would have to let go of my skepticism to truly experience it.
i want to roll my eyes at the idea that eventually i’ll stop feeling as an individual and start feeling this collective synchronization with all life. it kind of frightens me. and as i read about it, i was like… i do feel this sometimes. but charged with fear. whenever i have a dissociative episode.

Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson

and lets talk about that. so if i were to actually believe in diagnoses.
i’m an addict. i possibly have borderline personality disorder (which i can’t even get into right now because i’m still like… trying to battle the stigma of being labeled). and my doctor thinks i could have fibromyalgia as a result of trauma that happened last year.
……that’s a lot.
so as i reflect on why i’ve had so much queasiness and ups and downs lately.
it makes sense. i’m sorting through all this news. trying to lull my panic. and trying to cap my curiosity before i spiral.
you now what’s ironic… a song called “sick in the head’ by indigo de souza just started playing.
*wants to cry*
sometimes i feel that way. it makes me think of all the times people have told me i’m super emotional. and sensitive.
i just wonder… how… normal.. people… exist…
and is it just a general numbness? or is just authentically not giving a fuck or worrying about things in your control?
because i would rather be worry free and trusting in the universe vs being comfortably numb to all its happenings.

my dream last night was so strange. i often dream in movies. and as different characters. like i was a chubby little boy in my dream last night. who was being pressured and bullied into doing things. i was also writing about my inner child yesterday… for a future podcast episode, which i’m excited to restart… but i guess it’s easier for the world to pity the chubby, little white boy…than the skinny, tall indian girl with a unibrow. anyways at one point, me, little chubby, had to cross this very questionable floating dock across a huge body of water that had these red-pink squid like monsters in it. after i had spied in on some secret society meeting on the other side of it. even though these dreams are kind of weird and stressful… i like them a lot better than the ones where my mouth melts off my face and i can’t talk.
if i were an artist i would paint that out on all the different faces.
which brings me to wanting to be more creative. god, i suck at it.
but i was facetiming breon and he was like dude… you would be such a good artist. and this kind of means something from someone who makes great art in my opinion. and someone that knows me very well. from angsty teen to adult. he also said it’s like he’s talking to the old sonia again. which makes me emotional. what doesnt these days? but it was so nice. not that old sonia was great. but i’m glad i’m pulling back the old parts of my true self. the nerdy me. the one that didn’t stop herself from using certain vocabulary. the one that avoids social gatherings because she enjoys her own company. the one that doesn’t flex on social media all the time and likes her privacy. slowly but surely.
but anyways… painting. i’ll give it a try. i used to draw all the time as the kid. and write. and sing. and do a bunch of things for pure enjoyment. not for the sake of being talented at it. or eventually monetizing it.
painting makes me feel uneasy. but boy, do i really want to borrow my fathers sewing machine and really learn how to sew. especially with my changing body. who knew i was so wonky. i have never struggled this much with sizing and finding what fits. is it me? or is it society just fucking around and changing with body trends…
oh body trends. *deep sigh* i hate it here sometimes. the fact that our physical vessels become trends over time that change and we risk death and disease to get… disturbs me. the only thing that keeps me kind of unbothered is that honestly… if i have a kid one day. i’m going to have to completely disregard my own personal feelings about my body because it’s no longer going to be this object of desire. it’s going to be a home of creation. and that’s the real beauty of having a womans body. i don’t think that means we all need to pop babies out. but to have ownership of what you’re capable transcends just plain old childbirth. the feminine energy is so based in creation. and i feel the call a bit. i’ve been saying that a lot. it’s so very New Age of me. i know. even i kind of gag at myself. but i don’t know. i feel in tune. like i finally found a sliver of frequency that speaks only to me. and very clearly. which after years and years of feeling lost. unguided. aimless… is quite a comfort. and a luxury not to be taken for granted.
oh how weird life is.
would we have it any other way?

the words & thoughts of a woman you found elsewhere.