03/ 06/ 2014
I’ve never been good at standing up for myself. It’s a fear, pushing back, and the idea of speaking up makes me really anxious. Also, If I’m aware that a hard conversation is looming, I spend far too much time and energy trying to predict how the person will react to what I say:
Will it make them mad if I say XYZ?
Will they yell at me if I say XYZ?
If I say XYZ, will they be disappointed in me?
Conflict, quite literally, sends me into a mental tailspin.
However taxing, the universe has apparently decided that this is the year in which I will learn: how to handle interpersonal conflicts more gracefully and how to defend myself.
Part of the reason I freak out over tough talks is that I have this idea, that if I do speak up, I’ll be perceived as loud, obnoxious and self-fish (think Veruca Salt in Charlie in the Chocolate Factory… not becoming).
02/ 09/ 2014
Stress is hard, and the older I get, the more I realize that it’s not about handling stress well or badly. It’s also about making the choice to handle it at all.
My tendency is to fall into the later category. I worry more than is necessary, analyzing and planning my reaction to each possible outcome. Sometimes I choose not to think about the problem or issue that’s stressing me out. Nor do I really talk about how I feel in high pressure situations. This is all sort of like seeing the elephant in the room, sensing the weight of its presence on the bending floorboards, but choosing to ignore it anyways.
Overtime, I developed coping mechanisms for dealing with stress. While this doesn’t sound like a bad thing, it meant that I had a tendency to be silent, continuing not to share my feelings or say what I actually wanted to say to others. Doing this can become extremely isolating, and I reached a point where I was hesitant to share anything at all, even with those I trusted the most.
01/ 01/ 2014
Last night, I arrived back in NYC from a blissful holiday in Florida. I was surprised to find JFK Airport relatively empty, and I was also a little grateful, since I’d started to experience a little air sickness during the airplane’s descent.
Before getting into a cab, I took a seat and a dramamine and waited for my stomach to settle. Eventually, I made my way towards ground transportation and magically avoided the typically long wait for a cab.
Now, as a control freak, I’m not a huge fan of cabs. I just don’t like the idea of putting my life in the hands of an, often times, recklessly driving stranger. So to ease my anxiety, I made an effort to be just friendly enough to the cabbie. I asked him how he was and if it had been busy at the airport. We made just the right amount of appropriate small talk. He seemed nice and I felt a little more comfortable.
Just as we were pulling onto the highway, the nausea returned. I tried everything –cracking the window, deep breathing, closing my eyes — but nothing worked. Pre-imptively, I had asked the flight attendant for a plastic bag, and while I proceeded to vomit into said bag, I was very, very grateful that I had had the good sense to think ahead. However, it didn’t even occur to me to check the bag for holes, and as my bad luck would have it, there was a hole in the bag. I’ll glimmer over the details at this point, but basically, the backseat and I ended up covered in sick.
Talk about ringing in the New Year.
12/ 21/ 2013
I’m a Millennial… or just another confused and fickle member of Generation Y. Apparently, we are one of the most selfish and impatient subgroups in history. Many of us are dreamers who place a higher value on happiness than on anything else. Over the past month, I thought hard about this feeling called happiness. I realized that I’ve subconsciously set this standard: you must be happy in all situations, with all people, at all times. If you aren’t, then change it, because life’s too short to be miserable.
Obviously, this sounds a little crazy, and I’m starting to believe that this perspective is more self-debilitating than helpful.
However, the Milenial in me doesn’t understand this emerging concern. It argues that if I’m unhappy — whether it be with a particular situation or circumstance — then I should find a way to change whatever it is that’s causing the concern. Until now, this happiness theory has been my strategy to enduring adulthood. Whenever I don’t feel happy, I do my best to become more happy.
