I compiled some personal tactics and crowd sourced DIY remedies for the sads (clinical term) into a mini comic! Enjoy xoxo
#1 and #2 normally works very well for me, to try to stave it off and get out of the strange funk, but honestly, #3 is the one that hands down, always works for me.
Love my friends. They put up with my delusional self and know how to talk me up from feeling low. The ones that really get me, get me, and they’re the ones I’ll embarrassingly call mid-hyperventilation mode, in tears, freaking out.
Sometimes I forget that friends are friends because they’re always ready to catch a friend when they feel like they’re falling, and steady them, and remind them that other things matter more and not silly stressful and anxiety-inducing trivial matters.
I’m one lucky gal. <3
The thing I’m most afraid of is me. Of not knowing what I’m going to do. Of not knowing what I’m doing right now.
Black on White
I’ve been trying to pick up writing again recently, and apparently I’ve also forgotten that it’s pretty challenging to do so. Daily writings…perhaps like a diary, but maybe some creative stories or drabbles. I guess it’ll feel like therapy at some point, but I honestly want to try to write more.
There is a lot of value in words. I think that I’ve forgotten this fact after enduring lines and lines of math for problem sets, where the whole points was to figure out how to get to the answer and move on so that I could possibly retain some semblance of a social life/sleep (and happiness…. Happy Jess = a Jess that has slept for >7 hours - ideally 9 - each night). I’ve decided that I should start reading books again. I used to devour pages of fiction literature, and even random nonfiction books…that may or may not have been about different dogs, or horses, or places to travel to, or technology.
I’ve realized that right now, the only books that I haven’t read in my house, are business-related books or biographies of historical leaders/innovators that my dad has read over the years and I’ve begun to flip through them all. I can’t always numb my brain with Netflix this whole break…I have time for that when I’m old and braindead!
I’ve never been very into creative writing. I actually think that I sucked at it. The only thing I was really good at was analyzing the shit out of someone else’s writing and fixing their grammar mistakes. Hence…editing a good number of people’s college essays way back when. AP English Lit was kinda fun because of an old crazy english teacher and the fact that everything was analysis. I’m pretty sure that I bombed an assignment in middle school (why do I remember this?) because my idea for the creative writing assignment “wasn’t developed enough”.
Also, I want to escape into the Rose Garden after classes and just write some random thoughts in seclusion but out enjoying nature.
I guess I’ve mainly realized this…because writing about yourself is really hard. For applications, i pretty much hated every essay unless it was one of those strange essays that asked you to research something and establish your point of view and argue for it.
Now I’m faced with another essay so open-ended I don’t even know how to tackle it. All outlines I draft (since I’m so stuck) end up getting trashed because they sound ridiculous and ill-conceived. I want to convey that I have a working brain; I don’t want to come across as a babbling idiot.
It’s easy to regurgitate concepts applied to math. Not saying that chemE is easy. Oh noooo. Oh no no no. Quite the contrary, it’s possibly and probably the most difficult thing that I will ever learn in my LIFE. But it’s definitely a different type of difficulty to create your own idea that is unique.
'Do you ever feel that way?'
I search for the words. ‘Restless. As if you haven’t really met yourself yet. As is you’d passed yourself once in the fog, and your heart leapt - ‘Ah! There I Am! I’ve been missing that piece!’ But it happens too fast, and then that part of you disappears into the fog again. And you spend the rest of your days looking for it.’
— Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing