Unhealthy Habits-9/27/15

I don’t go out drinking, and I do not do illegal drugs. I am not a prostitute and I am not addicted to much other than caffeine and my phone. However, I am quite guilty of having some unhealthy habits. When I was younger, as a coping mechanism I presume, I used to bite my fingernails. I did it for years and years until finally one day I just stopped. Now, some of my habits are a little less common and socially acceptable.

Firstly, my eating habits. I used to do some pretty dumb things when it came to eating, but now I usually just don’t eat as much as I should. I have lost weight, and I like it, but those around me aren’t sharing in my sentiments as much. I don’t eat regularly and because of this, sometimes I can go long periods of time without feeling hungry. Other times, like today at work with no break, I felt like I was withering away I was so hungry. Food is fuel, and sometimes I run on empty.

Another unhealthy habit is major and self-admitted sleep deprivation. Between homework, work, and talking to friends (but mostly the former), I get a maximum of six hours per night, but usually less. I get to sleep in usually once a month, if that, as my weekend mornings are spent getting up early for work and my weekday mornings are spent getting up for school. A day of getting to sleep in and catching up on some much-needed sleep is a treasure and I feel as though sleep has been a luxury as of late, to my dismay.

A habit deemed unhealthy more by others than by myself is how I view myself and how I treat and talk to myself. I hate myself, physically and mentally, and I am not dumb enough to believe otherwise. My self-image is neither healthy nor positive, and my self-confidence is virtually nonexistent about most things. I over-analyze, over-criticize, and belittle myself. It is not good, not fun, and CERTAINLY not healthy.

Missing Out-9/26/15

Life is cruel, and awkward, and crazy. Life is constantly changing and time flies when you’re having fun, or when you’re so busy and stressed you forget to stop, take a breather, and enjoy it. I am guilty of this on more than one occasion and when I step back and see what I missed, it really opens my eyes to what’s important in life and saddens me that I was so busy trying to make a life I forgot to live my own.

Perhaps the biggest and most painful change during my absence is that of the ones I love. My younger brothers live with my stepfather and mother, while I live with my father. Because of this, my time with them is limited and only occurs every couple weeks, making that time even more precious. When I truly step back and think about it, I feel like a huge failure of a sister. More often than not, I leave for work before they are out of bed, and when I finally stumble in around dinnertime, I am exhausted. They are both at ages where playtime is a necessity. They are kids, and I love their playfulness. But, as much as it pains me to say it, I can’t remember the last time I truly just gave them my undivided attention for an hour or two and played with them. Between work and hanging out with friends, I somehow missed these beautiful human beings grow older, wiser, and smarter. Their childlike innocence remains mostly intact, particularly in the youngest, but I remember holding each of them when they were newborns and now one of them is in preschool, and the other on his way to middle school. Just like with my brothers, each year when I return to school from summer break (though I have no more high school summer breaks to look forward to), I notice how my friends have changed, and I regret not maintaining stronger, more frequent communication with them. Physically, they look taller and older and emotionally they grow tougher. Growing up, especially in today’s world, you have to. Sometimes, I really focus on my parents and the ways they have grown, both as parents and individuals. The worry lines have deepened, but they both remain youthful. In some ways, they have lessened their grip on me, and in other ways they are stricter. Both have endured quite a lot.

The hardest changes to notice and therefore easiest to miss out on are the ones that occur with myself. Inside and out, I am constantly changing, but in ways I don’t notice until the world slows down and I really, truly see. I lost weight, and I look older. Some days my fickle complexion seemed to have improved and other days it looks worse. I grow more jaded about certain things, while more hopeful about others. I laugh at things I didn’t before and cry at things that didn’t used to make me cry. My hair’s getting longer, while my patience about some things is getting shorter. My sense of personal style is developing while my sense of myself and my future seems to be big question marks.  I am complex and ever-changing, just like life is. So rather than watch life pass me by from the outside looking in, I am going to live it, my own way.

My Prized Possessions-9/25/15

I am not a terribly materialistic person in most ways. However, don't get me wrong, I love my "stuff", just as I love shopping and various other hobbies that gain nothing more than worldly items. Such items bring me amusement, entertainment, and joy. but I do not hold all of them  equally dear to me. I have a way of gauging just how much something truly means to me. It is a scenario of sorts that I place in my head in which my house is burning down. I have limited time and limited ability to save my stuff. I must ask myself what I get to safety first, and why?
Firstly, I would save my dog. He is living, breathing, and loving and for that reason is one of my priorities. However, I would also be sure and save my pictures (photo albums), laptop, and cork board. The memories contained within and the work put into those things are irreplaceable. Pictures freeze a moment in time, and they are moments I could never get back. If I lost my pictures, I would be devastated. I would also for sure grab my folder of my writings, mainly poetry. Years worth of sadness, despair, anger, and joy flowed onto those pages, and I could not recreate or duplicate them even if I tried. I would also want my hope chest which contains memorabilia from as early as birth, and my journal which details all the big events in my life.
Finally, trying to be resourceful, practical, and because I'm a girl, I would make a mad grab for clothes. shoes, and jewelry. I'd save my favorite clothes and shoes, and my most valuable or sentimental jewelry first. I'd like to hope I could just toss all the contents of my entire room out windows to safety below, but if I had to choose, I know exactly where I'd start.

Worry-9/24/15

More often than not, even when all my homework is done, daily chores are taken care of, and Bible verses are read, I lie awake for a while in my room while the rest of the town is asleep. Worry and doubt cloud my mind and hinder my ability to drift into the beauty of unconsciousness. Some of my worry is rooted in genuine necessity, but some of it is simply me worrying about things I can’t change. Deep down I know that laying there making myself even more sleep deprived isn’t solving anything whatsoever, but it isn’t enough to make me stop. I am a worrier, a title I am neither proud of nor ashamed of.

I worry about homework, whether it’s college or high school, and whether it’s my grades or an upcoming paper, project, or assignment. I worry about my family, certain members more frequently than others. I worry about my pregnant cousin and my little brothers. I worry about my parents, and my grandparents. I worry about my friends, especially when they are being challenged by hard times. I worry about my close friend, and how he works too much and neglects many parts of his life because of it. I worry about the decisions he makes and how he chooses to deal with the stress he’s under right now. I worry about being in love. I worry about the future, quite a lot actually. I worry about my career, finances, moving out, college, a place to live, and more. I worry about everyone and everything at times it seems. Sometimes I honestly worry for the whole world. What a weight on my shoulders, to feel pain for an entire planet. Finally, when everyone else has been fussed over, I sometimes worry about myself. I worry about physical changes and what caused them. I worry about the feelings I feel sometimes. I worry about dissecting myself and tearing myself down. I worry I’m somehow insulting God by not just entrusting my problems completely to Him, and getting them off my mind. I worry I’ll never be able to stop worrying and just let go.