Mirror Mirror on the Wall

It has been a really long time since I sat down at my keyboard and allowed myself to be vulnerable to whoever reads this blog. I apologize for that, as I know I have some people that really value what I write. Truthfully, I don't know why I haven't been writing. Maybe it's because I didn't have the appropriate words to explain how I felt. Maybe it's because I've been drowning in a sea of change that I have yet to figure out how to deal with. Or, perhaps it's because of the numerous medications I've been on for the last three months as my sorry attempt to get my anxiety under control. I realized as of late that I really don't enjoy serotonin medications-not because they don't help slightly with the presenting problem of anxiety, because they do. I don't like them because in the last three months I have watched myself transform into someone I don't necessarily recognize. Apathy is something I have always struggled with obtaining. I often used to think that all I needed was something that helped me to stop feeling things so deeply. What I have realized in the last while is that becoming apathetic propels me away from the comfort of myself. I become disconnected from the parts of me that make me who I am. Those pieces of me that cause me to cry for what seems like no reason-the pieces that bring great passion to me-the moments when a small ray of light or the words of a stranger or a melody of a song inspire me to the point of butterflies in my stomach. Some people call me neurotic or sensitive or depressed when these moments happen in front of them, but they are wrong. In simple terms that are free from judgment, I am  myself in these moments. I used to hate that i'd begin crying when I read something that touched my heart. I remember tons of moments where a song would come on in my car and I would just break down and fall apart momentarily because the song made me feel so strongly that the emotions just had to come out somehow. I always equated it with my depression and looked at it as being problematic because that is what society deemed it to be. It took the last three months-it took the absence of these moments to make me realize how important they are to the person I am. It's ridiculous that people constantly need to lose things to realize what they have. It's disturbing how we don't even recognize how special we are at every given moment. It sickens me how society constantly beats the ingenuity and creativity and quirkiness and loveliness out of so many people just because they appear different than the greater population.
​ I guess my point of this and to anyone reading, it's just to always remember that the pieces of you that seem to give you trouble in some way or another are the pieces I think you should learn to love more than any of the other ones. Not because the other parts of you aren't important to who you are, but because the ones that give you troubles are the ones that can really teach you about yourself. I might be a mess at random times and I might feel things deeper than anyone I know, but I wouldn't trade that part of me for the world because its an inspired feeling that I cannot possibly obtain from anywhere else if not inside of me. It's the spark that constantly keeps sparking. It's the fire inside of me that burns when everything else is cold. It's the flutter of the butterflies in my stomach that remind me that things are important. It is my magic. It is the part of me that insists that I stop and look for the beauty that exists in every single day. It is my peace in the midst of the constant chaos that is this world and that is my body. Ironically, its the thing that antidepressant medication took away, yet its the one thing that has kept me alive.
​I am not telling you that you should stop growing or stop reflecting on the pieces of you that you think need to improve for whatever reason. I am simply stating that the very things that you might crucify are the very things that make you the extravagant living thing that you are. They might be the most frustrating parts of you but they also might be the thing that creates a home for your soul within your body.
​I hope that everyone reading this finds some peace with who they are and is able to recognize the ingenuity of the person that your life has allowed you to become.
​Perfection is an illusion, but the beauty you possess at this very moment of your existence is not. That is very real. I hope you remember that in the future when you're wishing you could escape from yourself. I hope you remember that when you feel overwhelmed and angry. I hope you always remember that these moments of vulnerability and darkness are the stepping stones that guide you into a brighter future.
​Keep fighting. Fight for you. Fight for your happiness. Fight to be at peace with all of the pieces of yourself. 
​"Dear you. Make peace with your mirror and the reflection will change."