Mental Health Monday: Selfishness and Emotional Cop-Outs

Today I want to talk about emotional selfishness.

This is something I am such a brat about, so much so that I sometimes feel like a 10-year-old stuck in a 25-year-olds body.

I am constantly worried about how I am doing, mental health wise, and how I am feeling and why I am feeling that way and why I cannot be positive and function normally day to day.

While being aware of personal mental issues is, of course, important, it is not so important that it should be all-consuming in your life.

Getting out of your own head and heart for a change and paying attention to those around you, to those you are closest to and their problems, is extremely healthy and let’s face it, extremely normal human behavior.

I have dug such a big hole around myself and had so many emotional cop-outs recently that I have lost my fiance emotionally for the time being, as well as my close family and friends.

Patience runs deep in those around me, and for that, I am extremely thankful.



Friday Photos

I hope you all have a fantastic Memorial Day weekend!



A Call for Opinions.

Short and sweet: I am thinning down my blog, big time. I am twisted in so many different directions here, even I can’t keep up.

If you happen to follow the blog regularly, please let me know your opinion on which two themes to focus on (because obviously, I love writing them all):

  • Mental Health
  • Flash Fiction
  • Travel
  • Nature Photography
  • Lovey Dovey Life Stuff (eh I will probably sprinkle these in regardless).

Thanks in advance, and thanks for following my blog!

Tuesday Tidbit: Leaving

It was the way her mother looked at her when she said it that told her she wasn’t going to be getting any sort of sympathy, or any sort of help.

If her father had found out he wouldn’t have been so kind to have only given her a look.

It was also the way her mother spoke in a different tone after the fact, as if her whole person had been taken over by a new, methodical, fake one.

If her father had been in the same room he wouldn’t bother changing his persona, he would be himself and that would be frightening enough. She had loved that about him.

Tucking away her things into her oversized overnight bag she realized that this may be the very last time she laid her eyes on her bed, on her dresser, on her closet full of clothes and cat hair. She would miss the cat hair most of all. At least it, though annoying, still clung to her.

Her mother watched over her like a hawk as she packed away everything she could fit in the bag, leaving behind her books and trophies and old vintage rock posters.

She was also leaving behind her family, her non-responsive father in the bed upstairs and her suddenly changed mother, the latter wanting no part in her life anymore. Her father would feel the same, only much worse, if he were capable.

As she walked down the stairs grasping her plane ticket, her mother right on her tail, she thought about the good times within the home, though they were few and far between.

Her mother did not hug her, she barely even looked at her before she made her way out the door.

This is what she got for abandoning her dying father.

This is what she got for getting pregnant.

This is what she got for leaving.


Friday Photos

A rather random storm popped up a few days ago here in northern Missouri, a sudden downpour with unreasonable wind for about 10 minutes, and then it was clear just like that. Here are a couple captures from the day.


Wanderlust Everyday: Part 6

A day of wanderlusting has led me to Part 6 of the Wanderlust Everyday Series (an end to this ridiculously long series is coming folks, I promise), the Cancun Edition. Most of these photos have been featured on my blog before, though perhaps not all in the same post.

Wanderlust on, my friends! (And somebody take me with you if you are going to a beach soon, I need it!)

Part 6: Mexico

Tuesday Tidbit: Willkommen and Bonjour

Willkommen and Bonjour

She said adios, but what she meant was te amo. 

He said ciao, but what he meant was restare.

The languages they spoke, which were so many between the two, never clashed, never interfered with the whole thing. It was tiring, however, always saying something you didn’t mean.

Mental Health Monday: Fuzzing

I wrote this blog a few, maybe four,  months ago, and just found it tucked safely and secretly away in my drafts. I wanted to share, for others feeling the same way, or others fighting feeling this way again. I was fuzzing, and at times I am still fuzzing, but things will and do get better!

My life is fuzzing away.

Loneliness and addiction. Those are my things.

Not my good things. When I think about it, they aren’t my bad things either.

I’ve been blogging and playing with (and paying very close attention to) my thoughts and feelings for awhile now since I’ve graduated college and moved in with the love of my life.

Those are my two things as well, the two things I always wanted to accomplish; wisdom and love.

But now I’m starting to realize that the things you thought you wanted and dreamed about do not solve your problems, do not shake your core feelings, and do not lead away any unwanted or unresolved feelings in your life.

I am TERRIFIED of being alone, both in life and at night. I get this indescribable hollow feeling that mixes with panic and desperation so tumultuously that I end up mood swinging from depressed and helpless to active and busy [sidenote from present Danielle, I recently found out I have Bipolar Disorder, so that statement makes so much sense to me now]. That was college.

Now I am living with my fiance and have been for some time, not needing to visit home every weekend, and doing fine in my independent office job.  It’s nice. It was nice, anyway.

The loneliness came back again, and with that came addiction (not drugs, but love and attention and pills). Addiction is America’s favorite vice, and who am I to be so unpatriotic that I would deny myself that right? Anywho, I craved being with somebody at all times, and when I wasn’t, I craved to be numb, fuzzing.

Here’s the kicker; sometimes I want that hollow loneliness, I want that addiction to come back. Is there a possibility that covering up my irrational dislike of being alone with extreme company constantly has got my brain missing that fear, that uncontrolled and unwanted feeling?

(This is one of those thinking out loud posts, Danielle likes to ramble and think too much)
























Vibrating lines.

Squiggled borders.

Close to implosion.