Put your own oxygen mask

In the past few months my life went from comfortable to everything I thought it will never be. In just a few short months I got my Bachelor’s, got into grad school, dropped out, came home after three years of living alone and became a waitress collecting her tuition fee for a private university. That’s a lot to happen in a few months.

Since the day I started to realize I was unhappy about my life, while I was still at my university, I encountered a big problem I used to struggle with as a kid while my abusive father was living with us. My panic attacks were back. It was overwhelming. It was scary. It was also a big, fucking neon sign that said “GET OUT!”.

In these few months I realized the importance of one very simple sentence everyone heard if they were ever on a plane (I was actually never on a plane). The sentence goes: First put your own oxygen mask.

There is so much meaning in this sentence and I guess I, myself, had to go through a bunch of problems, get my panic attacks again to realize I have chosen to take that oxygen mask off and deprive myself of air for so long. I was completely neglecting myself just to make everyone else happy and maintain a certain image about myself because I thought and was taught all my life that I had to do everything to come off as a well put-together person. I was also taught that a university degree is the only road to success, that other peoples’ opinions matter the most etc. I was force fed a lot of bullshit through my life and I am here to tell you to slap that damn oxygen mask on your face.

Stop suffocating yourself and stop making yourself small in order to fit in with some worthless standards our societies and upbringing have made us follow. If you are not happy with yourself, not only are you hurting yourself but you are hurting the people who care about you. When you are in a bad place in your life for a longer period of time you can’t be the person, child, mother, sister, worker, friend, girlfriend, boyfriend that you actually want to be. If you don’t take care of yourself first, you won’t be able to take care of anyone else or make anyone else happy.

Also, if you sacrifice your happiness and wellbeing to make others happy and satisfied with time you will start to resent them and blame them for your own unhappiness. Let me just get this clear. It’s not their damn fault, it’s yours and you need to own up to your mistakes. It was your choice to sacrifice your mental health to make someone else happy. Don’t drown yourself in sorrow now – TAKE ACTION!

Get yourself out of that dark place, find your oxygen mask and put it on. It’s not selfish, it’s necessary. Make yourself the person you want to be so that you could be the person people you care about need. Put yourself first and, I can’t stress this out enough, that is not selfish. Your happiness and mental health are just as important as everyone else’s and it depends on you.

To repeat again (I feel like a parrot): First, put your own oxygen mask!

Undraping

This lovely post was actually a comment made by Poet of the Light under my post I found a typewriter! I was so amazed and overwhelmed with this that I just wanted to share it with all of you. It really got to me because it includes my story of coming home and finding this typewriter… Poet of the Light just hit the nail on the head. I honestly hope Poet of the Light isn’t upset I’m publishing this.

Make sure to check out his blog: https://poetofthelight.com/

Here it goes:

She secretly wore doubts of her choice to return the home of her mother the way any battle ridden warrior does when going back to familiar landscape, the touch of yesterday’s long missed memories and even the conversation over a home cooked meal by Mama. Life can be funny that way, with its secret ingredients found nowhere else. It had been nearly a month when her eyes finally caught site of that- most peculiar contraption sitting off to the side. It was as if the universe rippled in correction, the kind most don’t even notice. One could pose the argument; it was as if destiny was at play here, and that typewriter had been waiting- in silence all this time like a shooting star waiting to be infused with life, life that could only be bestowed from Luna’s fingerprint. Much the way small young girl dreams of being saved by a handsome prince and kissing her back to life; that typewriter certainly could be said to have played the same role, as her dashing prince, except she was the savior and the lost soul and sleeping heart- was her own…damaged by an unwritten travesty. All she had to do was remove the undersize cloth somewhat protecting it from ghostly cobweb collection.

After cleaning it up and preparing it for the test, transformion of old dry stale air into a flow of beautiful inked words- suddenly permeated the surroundings of her essence as she began pouring out her heart, her subdued feelings and long hidden dreams. Only she could read her words on invisible paper taking down all she stroked. Every torn scar on her heart slowly disappearing from her divine heart and her memory as time was erasing her unwanted pain. The sounds of the key strokes striking parchment was a symphony written an eon before her birth and even time itself had to wait until that angelic touch from the soul of Luna infused life and color to each phrase, each word- every single letter. Every typed mistake was planned as part of this written marvel, as too was every tearful correction, making it her life renewed in fluid motion.

Luna was meant to find that antiquated collection of steel that collected dust of past darken hours, that still worked like some enchanted time machine taking Luna herself back to the old Luna of yesteryear, that same Luna born with mystery and magical hope alive and well in her eyes as her heart pumped out love that like the ink scent adrift in the room where she can be heard clacking away secrets for the universe to bequest and unfold at the promise of every new dawn morning like every virginal flower bursting in a bathe of dew. The kind of secret love recipes Mam’s cook, that changes the world for the betterment. Oh- how I dream to be reborn as her parchment and flooded with the love of…Luna’s ink.

Poem #108

I’ve trained my body to function with
only four hours of sleep at night.
I’ve trained my heart to let everything
go through verses scribbled in my notebook.
I’ve trained my feelings to go on
lockdown when they sense danger.
But still, I’m unable to train my mind to stop
reminding me that who I am and who I swore
I’ll be are fading away with each passing year.

Poem #94

I always say that loving you was the
lowest point of my life because in
order to love you I had to embrace
every dark part of myself. I embraced
it, I let it take the wheel and I just
crashed into you. You took me in
with open arms, survived the crash
It might have been my lowest point
but it was a point I reached with a
wide smile.

Poem #93

The trains just keep passing by.
I already got used to the noise.
My red lipstick is losing its shade
and my walk isn’t a walk of someone
who can conquer the world anymore.
I started to feel comfortable blending
into the crowd. I don’t feel like I’m
living my  life, I feel like I’m
surrendering it with every door
I knock on.
The trains just keep passing by.
I already became one with the noise.

I quit!

Hello guys!

First I need to apologize. Lately I haven’t been so active and I wasn’t replying to all of your wonderful, supportive comments because honestly I didn’t have much time. Here’s a little explanation.

I am quitting university. This is a very big step for me and I am absolutely terrified of doing it but I am also aware that it’s necessary for me to take a year off and get some time to think about what I really want in life. I already have my bachelor’s in Spanish and Italian but I am just not sure this is the career I want to be in right now. All of this is life changing for me because I’ve been doing this for three years just to realize it’s not all I thought it would be when I enrolled.

Also, the main reason why this is so scary is the fact that I don’t have a job. Sadly, with me degree I am qualified to do absolutely nothing. I’ve been to a job interview, I am applying for jobs everywhere and I think that I will be waitressing for this year until I figure out what I want to do. All I am sure of right now is that I need to find a job as soon as possible because I am as broke as one can be.

The hardest part of quitting is actually moving out of my apartment. I am leaving it this Saturday and I am just surrounded by boxes, bags, stuff and it’s all a big mess. Moving is exhausting and that’s why I didn’t spend a lot of time on my page.

This is pretty much the explanation. I will keep you updated here about everything that’s going on and as soon as I get any job, you know I will brag about it here. Send me positive thoughts because I seriously need them now and fingers crossed for my job hunt. Thank you again for all your love and support, you guys are the best!

Sending you much love!

Poem #90

I could paint a perfect picture
of this ceiling I’ve been staring at
for hours. The lines, the imperfections,
the spider building a web in the corner.
Even the spider is building something and I’m
just stuck here with my empty head and
hollow heart.

It’s hard to have a vision for the future
when you don’t know where your present is headed.
It’s hard to fade in your early years, watching
your dreams getting further away with every step you
take thinking you’re making them reality.

From one crisis to the next, from one cigarette
to a whole pack, from one glass to a bottle,
from one day to another. Baby steps turning into
abrupt halts. Youth turning into ashes.

I want to take my little black dress for a night out.
I want to move to the sound of music.
I want to see those far away cities, go from one
plane to the next destination. I want to touch the
ocean and see the earth from above. I want to
feel the sand underneath my feet while sipping a
cocktail on a sunny beach but I’m here getting familiar
with the ceiling.

The earthquake beating in my chest
is an endless hallway and behind each door
is a story to be told with an unhappy ending.
Yes, an earthquake in my chest, because my heart
is miles away from me. I sold it for a ruined
fantasy but at least I gave it away. Thought it
would be easier.

It’s hard to put my feet on the ground each day
knowing they will take me on a quest of
imposed society rules while my soul is craving
something real, something alive, something different.

That thing, that happiness everyone talk about – where
is it hiding. How many miles, how many doors, how many
breakdowns and sleepless night away is it. It’s hard to be
young and so old. Full of energy and so tired. So alive and so dead