Social justice advocate, feminist, creative writer. With liberty, justice, and homemade cookies for all.
There is no why. You don’t have a right to the cards you believe you should have been dealt. You have an obligation to play the hell out of the ones you’re holding.
I’ve heard it said that every day you need half an hour of quiet time for yourself, or your Self, unless you’re incredibly busy and stressed, in which case you need an hour. I promise you, it is there. Fight tooth and nail to find time, to make it. It is our true wealth, this moment, this hour, this day.
When you don’t have growing up figured out, it’s easy to believe that everybody else does.
In an effort to color in my own future, I went back to school to do a master’s in writing. As I talked to the other students on the course, I started to see that very few people actually have confidence in what they’re doing. Despite this, some had written books or been published in magazines, largely because they had the guts to try. They weren’t luckier than I was or inherently better at life, and it gave me more faith in my own abilities. When I finally started taking risks with my own creative endeavors, I found that I was less envious of others (not totally jealousy-free, but mostly). I’m in a place now where I see other people’s success as inspiring, not a reminder of my own failings.
People get really irritated by mental illness. “Just fucking get it together! Suck it up, man!” I had a breakdown, and a spiritual friend came to visit me in the psych ward. And they said, “You need to get out of here. Because this is the story you’re telling yourself. You know, Patch Adams has this great work-group camp where you can learn how to really celebrate life.”
It’s something people are so powerless over, and so often they want to make it your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. I started thinking of suicide when I was 10 years old—I can’t believe that that’s somebody’s fault. Like, “Oh, you’re just an attention getter.” Mental illness isn’t seen as an illness, it’s seen as a choice.
Yeah. I have a joke about how people don’t talk about mental illness the way they do other regular illnesses. “Well, apparently Jeff has cancer. Uh, I have cancer. We all have cancer. You go to chemotherapy you get it taken care of, am I right? You get back to work.” Or: “I was dating this chick, and three months in, she tells me that she wears glasses, and she’s been wearing contact lenses all this time. She needs help seeing. I was like, listen, I’m not into all that Western medicine shit. If you want to see, then work at it. Figure out how not to be so myopic. You know?”