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asherwarf-archive · 3 years

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i saw ASHER WARF at a coffee shop in QUEENS today. i forgot how much HE looks like DANE DEHAAN. they are a THIRTY-THREE year old WAREHOUSE WORKER who’s been in nyc for THIRTY YEARS now. every time we run into each other, they are always SELF-AWARE AND DILIGENT but i’ve heard people say they can also be ASOCIAL AND PESSIMISTIC. HOLD IT TOGETHER BY MIKE SHINODA reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio.

TW: drug addiction, recovery and relapse, mental illness, divorce, social services, and prison. brief mention of violent crime.

born in philidelphia, pennsylvania, asher’s parents were your average “high school sweethearts”, having hit it off during their senior year; both able to relate to one another’s working-class backgrounds. his mother’s pregnancy was unplanned; however, it wasn’t unwanted, the couple welcoming a son into the world on a september evening – the thirteenth to be precise. one of asher’s earliest memories was at aged three when he and his parents moved from their quiet philly suburb home to brace the chaos of new york, hoping to open a door of new beginnings and opportunities for the three of them.

growing up, it became apparent that asher was something of a “difficult” child, teachers throughout kindergarten and elementary school often reporting incidents of tantrums and picking fights with other kids; however, his parents never had much concern regarding this. after all, kids go through these sorts of phases, right? perhaps it was something that should have been nipped in the bud, though, as adolescence was when his behaviour started to take a downward spiral. during this time – unbeknownst to asher – his parents’ marriage was beginning to crumble and soon lead to an inevitable divorce when asher was sixteen, his father deciding to up and leave their home one evening. this, of course, took a toll on his mother and, over the following months, caused her to sink into a depressive state. though he and his mother never discussed it, asher had his suspicions that perhaps he was to blame for his parents’ separation. with this weight resting on his shoulders, asher’s behaviour as a teenager got worse – he started mixing with bad crowds, finding himself roped into a world of recreational drugs and misdemeanour. his rebellion combined with his mother’s deep depression made it difficult for her to cope as a parent, social services soon having to step in and offer extended respite care as a solution.

living out of plastic bin bags hurt like hell for a kid of his age, though there was no resentment towards his mother for his living situation – he knew deep down that perhaps he had a lot to answer for. nonetheless, his continuous misbehaviour led to another inevitable: him being a high school drop-out. between the ages of seventeen and into his twenties is when things took a turn for the worst; recreational drugs and misdemeanour becoming more serious affairs – an addiction to prescription opioids and the means of getting his fix. of course, this was a somewhat expensive addiction for a young man with no qualifications or earnings to his name and, in a desperate state, asher entered a local convenience store one evening; making a decision which would lead to dire consequences.

october the fifth would forever be a significant date after that evening – at aged twenty-two, asher was sentenced to prison for armed robbery, a manic decision fuelled from the desperation to scratch an unbearable itch. arguably, this was perhaps another inevitable in his life; his behaviour and acts of misdemeanour as an adolescent being something of a foreshadowing. however, despite his delinquency growing up, asher was, in fact, not built for a life behind bars. being tossed into a cesspool of those described as “society’s worst” was a daunting experience – handfuls of erratic personalities forced to live with one another, some white-collar criminals, others responsible for someone’s last breath. it was, indeed, an unpredictable culture within those concrete walls and barbed wire fences; one that would be enough to push a man over the edge. the desperate craving for a fix lingered; however, with mere pennies to his name – and therefore limited commissary to trade – asher turned to a cheaper option that would offer similar effects; abusing heroin among other drugs throughout his sentence.

his twenties spent behind a steel cell door, it wasn’t until his thirties – aged thirty-one to be exact – that asher was able to, at last, experience the freedom of the outside world after almost a decade; having lost what were, arguably, his most precious years of adulthood to a life that some wouldn’t wish upon their worst enemy. though comparable to a deer in the headlights upon his arrival at the prison facility all of those years ago, returning to the “real world” was something of a disconcerting experience in itself – he had grown accustomed to an existence defined by rules, set mealtimes and discipline; never able to move freely outside of his assigned wing without a set of handcuffs and shackles, and a warden at either side of him. of course, those still incarcerated would give up everything that they owned for a mere glimpse outside of the merciless steel beams and mesh that surrounded them; however, self-awareness was, perhaps, one of asher’s few “positive” traits and he knew all too well that the task of returning as a conforming member of society wouldn’t be a simple one – a large chunk of civilization immediately declaring people like him as being the scum of humankind. ever the pessimist, there was a period of time upon his release where asher was in a metaphorical hole, continuing to abuse heroin as a means of numbing even the slightest bit of emotion or anguish that he might have felt.

though it was somewhat difficult for him to admit, asher knew deep down that he had a problem that required a solution, and fast; having been a witness to what the wicked substance could do to those who continued to abuse it. however, recovering from excessive use of such a drug was, indeed, much harder than it seemed, urges to relapse growing stronger as the weeks passed; some of which he succumbed to. fast forward to now, asher is still battling the immense hardships that come with recovery, relying on doses of prescription methadone to aid him through the process. symptoms come and go; however, the long-term effects are prominent in his mental health; unpredictable mood swings and signs of paranoid schizophrenia, though no official diagnoses. with no qualifications and a criminal record to his name, asher works perhaps one of few careers that would allow him a second chance at life; a low-wage warehouse job, packaging and labelling boxes for hours on end – it's a repetitive, tedious task, but all to make ends meet.

—

aaand scene! first and foremost, i will apologise for the fact that i suck at concluding a piece of writing - it isn’t a strong point of mine (which i think we’ve gathered). i’m roo, and this absolute car-crash of a human being is asher, a character of mine who i’ve had for close to ten years now; however, this is the first time in a looong that i’m properly getting to explore his characteristics and whatnot so i’m quite excited about that. i’ll leave a link below to some ideas that i've come up with for connections / plots, but please, please, please do feel free to message me with any ideas of your own. i’d love to work something out!

CONNECTION / PLOT IDEAS

#villageintro #tw: drug addiction #tw: relapse #tw: mental illness #tw: divorce #tw: social services #tw: prison #tw: crime #i hope that i've covered everything #i suck at concluding a piece of writing apparently

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notbang · 5 years

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on pretence, palm trees, perceived happiness and the promise of change

So I’ve been meaning to write this meta for awhile, but I was holding out because I had an inkling we were headed for another interior design shift this season, either in the form of Heather or Rebecca herself moving out and, lo and behold, here we are! It’s Rebecca’s mural meta time!

When Dr Phil appears in 1x07 “because [Rebecca’s] depressed mind invited [him] in”, one of the first things he comments on is the state of her apartment, asking her if she’s ever considered “hanging a little art”. Later in the episode, buzzed on the pill she took off Dr Akopian’s bathroom floor, she does exactly that, and we get our first glimpse of mural number one—the sunset. In its initial iteration, Rebecca’s in the midst of a manic phase and it’s only partway put up, still peeling down the wall. But we get the picture; it’s a nice choice for her otherwise currently spartan apartment—it’s bright, it’s colourful, it’s tropical, it’s fun—and after all, she moved to West Covina to be two hours from near the beach. What’s always interested me in particular, though, is the way in which it sort of harkens back to this:

It’s no great revelation that when it comes to Rebecca’s obsession with Josh Chan, all roads lead back to summer camp. Our very first introduction to Rebecca Bunch as audience members is, as we soon come to learn, apparently the last time she was truly happy (thanks, weirdly specific butter commercial!)—up on stage, singing chorus in an amateur production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s South Pacific, the set for which is comprised simply of some painted backdrops featuring palm trees dotted along a beach. So it makes a strange kind of sense that Rebecca—whom in the midst of a nervous breakdown fixates on a childhood infatuation as a link back to this moment of true happiness—upon being confronted with an apartment about as empty as how she’s feeling inside and being called upon to fill it, would subconsciously seek inspiration from the exact same source. The shift to sunset, though, gives it a distinctly romantic skew—in much the same way Rebecca is so often desperate to use romance to fill her void.

Rebecca’s romantic aspirations with Greg and Josh crash and burn quite literally in 2x04 when she inadvertently sets her house on fire disposing of their things, and it is from the ashes of her failed relationships that our first change in scenery arises. Rebecca’s got a new house, a new housemate, and she’s accessorising them with a brand new mural!

Mural number two isn’t hugely different from its predecessor—it’s mostly just a change in lighting. It’s bright, it’s sunny, it’s summer, it’s the light of a new day. It’s also a lot more visually similar to that scenic art from South Pacific.

Summer comes with the connotations of heat, repression, stagnation, and youth, and season 2-3 Rebecca’s got all of ��em in spades.

Though distinctly more slanted towards sexual fantasy than romantic in the case of We Should Definitely Not Have Sex Right Now and its callback in 3x10, with the help of a little mood lighting both murals provide a fitting backdrop to Rebecca’s musical state of mind. And the contrast between the two works here, too:

In 2x01, Rebecca’s scrambling to get a lockdown on her romantic standing with Josh. Despite being intent on pursuing her feelings for Greg in the season one finale, crushed expectations and a newly single Josh quickly have her redirecting her eyes back to her original prize. Josh is being somewhat understandably withholding after the revelation that she did, indeed, move to West Covina for him, but Rebecca is quick to reframe and refocus that particular roadblock to their relationship—what’s keeping them apart is what’s left unresolved with Greg, and it’s a test of their self control, it’s sexy, and it deserves a sultry, saxophone-fuelled number. The closing shot of the song is Rebecca’s similarly palm-tree emblazoned beach towel, beckoning Welcome to West Covina, framed above her bedhead, leading into her romantic victory for the episode—finally succeeding in having Josh sleep beside her for the night.

3x10 Rebecca, on the other hand, isn’t interested in romance, but revenge. Equally hung-up and hotheaded, she and Nathaniel are channeling their passion into loathing, which inevitably manifests itself as sexual heat. Just as the mural is different, though, so too is Rebecca’s response; pumped full of hormones as she prepares to donate an egg, she and Nathaniel definitely should not have sex right now and, almost impressively, they don’t. When they do eventually give in weeks later, it’s after an open, honest conversation, free of facade—but with that same Welcome to West Covina beach towel hanging in the background. She’s still navigating her narrative, and now that Rebecca’s romantic misadventures have relocated to the workplace, it’s only fitting that in some way, the palm trees have followed her there, too.

If the mural is just another way in which Rebecca is inadvertently clinging to her ever-elusive illusion of happiness, how appropriate that in organising her wedding to the metaphorical man of her dreams, it’s quite literally the surface on which she hinges the plans for all these dreams supposedly come true. So enmeshed in her vision of happily ever after is the palm-lined beach, it seems, that it’s even the location she chooses for Josh and her to exchange their vows.

There’s also arguably a distinct vacation vibe here, and it’s an undeniable precedent within the show that when Rebecca wants to run away from her problems, she has a tendency to take to travel. Cross country move to West Covina aside, she flees to New York on not one but two occasions, is ready to ride off into the sunset with Nathaniel to Rome and is offered a similar escape route by him in 4x01. Whilst holidaying in Hawaii after recently being released from jail isn’t as immediately problematic as the previous examples, it only gives more weight to the progress Rebecca has made when this time, she turns him down.

Season four has been thematically framed as being about renewal and rebirth, but if we’re talking about the weather, it’s not spring that follows summer. And if summer is representative of youth, it’s time to do some growing up—which brings us to our most recent reinvention of Rebecca’s humble abode.

The progression here is a dramatic one, and it’s incredibly apropos; what’s shifted isn’t merely the light, this time, but both season and setting, and much like Rebecca, we’ve ended up in a completely different place to where we started out. Rebecca remarks at the start of 4x07 that’s she’s “ready to see some fall foliage”, and autumn is indeed the season of change. It represents balance, maturity and letting go (as well as a prelude to an end, which is also depressingly befitting, but we’ll ignore that part for now!).

While on a personal level I couldn’t help but cringe at the idea of making such a drastic change to someone’s decor without consulting them first, from a narrative standpoint, I appreciate the direct involvement of Josh Chan in this transformation. It kind of makes sense that the personification of Rebecca’s fantasy, now removed from ideal, plays a part in clearing out its remnants. There’s also something nice to be said for the fact that unlike mural number one, half-plastered in a panic by Rebecca, manic and alone, mural number three comes to her in the form of a thoughtful gift from a friend (she has friends, she definitely has friends!).

It’s poetic that this new sense of maturity extends to the person responsible for the mural, too—Josh, arguably one of the characters most obviously trapped in a state of arrested development, made significant strides in 4x07 when he finally put an end to his cohabitation with Hector’s mom (who is, as we know, coincidentally, an autumn).

Just as nicely as it applies to the broader sweep of Rebecca’s life right now, it’s also the perfect backdrop to the shift in the dynamic we start to see between Rebecca and Josh. Rebecca has changed, and as a result, similarly have her perceptions. It’s not about Josh, and it never was, but season four Rebecca is in now in a place where Josh can comfortably exist as an entity outside of an escape mechanism (Ahab can’t you see, Josh is no longer a metaphor!).

Josh Chan is irrelevant to Rebecca’s sense of self and her happiness, but that’s not the same as being irrelevant to her life. And now that she knows more about who she is and what she wants, there’s something so exciting and delightfully hopeful in that she gets to delve into the messiness of what that really means, and for her other relationships, too. Whether that’s through friendship, romance, or otherwise doesn’t really matter—it’s the promise that she’s secure enough in herself now that we can feel confident in her capacity to try.

#crazy ex girlfriend #rebecca bunch #josh chan #dare I also tag this #rebecca x josh #?#I do dare #stop! meta time #crazy ex meta #anyway this maybe gets a little itsnotthatdeep.jpg in parts #but as a general concept I stand by it

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yangkao · 6 years

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“...my therapist practically broke up with me on our first session.”

Back in September, I mustard up what courage I had left to drive myself to a medical clinic. Which is the one that my family and I go to regularly. I don’t remember much of that day. But It was all a blur to me. To be honest, I had just woke up 20 minutes before my appointment. Actually, I have been sleeping for days on out. So, on this particular day you can just imagine how hot of a mess I was. My hair tangled with frizzes. I was wearing a heavy forest green winter jacket, checkered pajama pants, boots, unmatched socks and I remember underneath my coat was just a camouflage shirt. Also, I haven’t had brush my teeth in days. I mean can you just imagine, the look on my doctor’s face when she came in to her examination room and saw me sitting in the corner chair. Let me just say, her face said it all. She was seriously concerned for my lack of hygiene.

Her and I both.

What I remember most was that there was a lot of crying. I mean, tears and boogers. I wasn’t going to hold back. I thought I was going crazy. Something seriously was wrong with me. I had convinced myself that this had to be true. I had explained to her how miserable I was, though I didn’t know why. I’m sure she couldn’t comprehend half of what I was saying, because I couldn’t. I’m one of those criers that slur words together, excessively hyperventilating, all while trying to talk at the same time. Not my best moments that’s for sure.

After calming myself down, we continued to talking and concluded that I was in fact diagnosed to have Anxiety/depression. Oddly, after hearing that I found myself with so much peace. I was calmer then I have ever been in weeks. Maybe it’s because deep down in my soul, I always knew that I have had depression. I just never had courage to get myself to meet a professional that will give me the proper diagnoses.

For a long time, I just kept telling myself, “it’s no biggie. It will eventually go away on it’s own.” Five years later and three kids along the way, it still hasn’t pass. Instead, It grew and festered creating a pitch dark hole in the center of my soul. There was no ounce of me that cared to live another day. I wanted to end my life so badly. Sadly, I’d convinced myself that my family was better off with out me. I was no good for them, I was a stumbling block to my husband’s ministry. I saw no value in myself, and when hearing my diagnosis that day, something that I needed to hear badly ended up giving me hope.

Why did it give me hope? Because, I wasn’t going crazy. I wasn’t madly insane. This was just not all in my head. I wasn’t just thinking I was overly dramatic. I was battling through ANXIETY and DEPRESSION. This is Something that can be fixed and Something that can be treated. I can now learn to set aside my insecurities of how I think of myself and focus on the heart issue. YIKES, that means I have to talk about my past, this is One thing that I don’t do often. But hey I was willing to go through it only by the guidance of a therapist. And so I made an appointment and got myself a therapist. (Yay, me!) Met with her and 2 minutes into our session, I dreaded it. It was the worst mistake of my life. Why oh, why did I listen to myself? I came home pouting, mad, and I went on a full on rant about it with my husband. For a WHOLE week I didn’t realize then but I was consuming all of my focus on that one mistake of getting a therapist. Oh, but don’t get me wrong. I believe my therapist and I had a mutual understanding that we weren’t good for each other. Because, after our first session she told me, “I’m going to refer you to a much better therapist. One that you and I will agree will better suit your needs.” Yeah, my therapist practically broke up with me on our first session. ANNND, I was ok with that.

I’m sure that at this point you’re wondering, “ what in the world happened in that first session?” Oh, don’t you want to know? Well, sadly that’s for another blog post. Yes, it is worth having its own blog post. Trust me, you don’t want to miss it either.

Furthermore, in the weeks that followed I found myself still angry, raging with uncontrollable spiraling emotions that I can’t find a better word for, but oddly still at peace. My anxiety gave me courage. Something that I don’t have much of. I was finding myself more impatient, more insensitive to my surrounding but yet more sensitive to my way of thinking and feeling. I might not be making sense here but hey your still reading this aren’t ya?” Any how, this new profound me had gone rouge. I mean, I was doing things that I haven’t done in years.They were things that I made a name for myself back in my days. The first time in a long time, when my hand touched all that goodness, I knew nothing was going to stop me now. My mind was racing with thousands of ideas. I mean, I was seriously having munchies if you know what I mean? I was burning through it like back in the days when I used to stay up all night typing away. I was writing again. Though I was never good at it, I was doing something I loved. Blogging. And when I blog, I always have to have a snack and a drink near by. Just incase I needed to refuel. I used to upload my thoughts online here at, kaozong.blogspot.com. If you ever came upon my page and had read the only two posts I had ever wrote on there then you know...I write ( insert smirk and rising of the eye brows).

Completely, went rouge right?

Things were moving along, I was facing my anxiety and depression head on. My husband and I talked about how to go about it. The steps and precautions that we will have to make for the next season to come. Now, not all days were so optimistic. That would just be wishful thinking. I had many days that I was drenched in sweat from waking up panicking due to stress about the “season to come.” I was stressing about our big move in July. I was stressing over about how our life is going to change dramatically when we leave to Southern California. I still have plenty of those bad hygiene days, where I would lock myself up for days just because I was feeling alone or when things from my past starts creeping back into my head once more. To all those sinful thoughts that I lost myself in. You see, I have had many bad days, that put me out like a cigarette being put out. And during those days I feel like what remains of the smoldering tobacco which is nothing but ashes being swept by the wind.

On the 28th of November, this past Tuesday to be exact. I had a standing appointment to go to. That day I was going there to receive consultation about what medication I would need to maintain a good healthy balance of my own emotions. My husband and I along with my doctor have talked long prior to this standing appt. We wanted to be open minded to all the possibilities of improving my state of mind. And this was one of them. Waking up that morning a 7:30am on the dot was not easy. I felt like a prune, shriveled and dried out. My husband and the kids came out to the clinic, waited in the waiting room to support me while I was in the examination room. I remember feeling miserable, mostly emotionally exhausted. And I looked the part too. Trust me on that. I was already having such a hard couple of days. When my doctor came in I can see the look of concern on her face the same concerning look she had for my hygiene. She sat down and slowly explained my condition to me and it seemed like a life time. Slowly, the word, “BIPOLAR” came out of her mouth and I immediately felt my heart dropped. It was so painful to hear. There was no hope in the word. Everything she had said following after that word was soundless to me. I saw her mouth moving but no sound was coming out. She then brought a psychiatrist into the room along with my new likable therapist to consult with me about my new diagnosis. I’m sure that they were explaining to me what bipolar means and how to go about living my life with bipolar. I guess we will never really know. I had already tuned them out.

These last couple of days, has been rough as you may have already predicted. The good thing is that the pills prescribed to me helps subtle my maniacal episodes. The biggest side effect that I’ve notice after taking the pill is that I get exceedingly tired. But, hey enough on that. The days that followed up after my discovery of this new diagnosed has been filled with more support than I can ever imagine. Yes, the first two days were tense for me. I was still apprehensive towards the idea of being bipolar. Still, one thing was for sure to be true is my God wanted me here in the present. I needed to know that he was in me, and not just with me. He showed himself through many of you folks that are reading this. He showed himself through family members and friends with their mighty prayers, heart felt words that made me feel wholeness once more. Lastly, my God blessed me with my wonderful, selfless, thoughtful husband who since day one has been beside me through this season that I am facing. It is a bit of everything everyone says that keeps me breathing. A word that surface in my heart over and over through all of this is the word, “embrace.” And that is exactly what I am going to “try” to do.

[Mania] : excitement manifested by mental and physical hyperactivity, disorganization of behavior, and elevation of mood; specifically: the manic phase of bipolar disorder

I have trembled and trampled through the the last couple of months being frightened, lost, withdrawn, and I was taken over by the lies that I have created in my head. The mind can become such a scary place if you let it, and I did. It starts with letting the flesh to take over. Instead of saying no, I started to say, “ Just this one time.” If you don’t play your cards right then in a flash, it’s game. You lose. Soon enough, my mind plays game with my heart. My heart tries to fight back but ends up confuse.

I don’t know how it came to this point, but I knew I wasn’t going to let it consume me no more. I was going to acknowledge my new mental illness instead by “EMBRACED” all of it. Just like when Jesus embraced the cross by accepting the cup.

“My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.”

Matthew: 26:39

Adam Clarke put it in this way,

“The word cup is frequently used in the Sacred Writings to point out sorrow. anguish, terror, death. It seems to be an allusion to a very ancient method of punishing criminals. A cup of poison was put into their hands, an they were obliged to drink it. Socrates was killed thus, being obliged by the magistrates of Athens to drink a cup of juice of hemlock. To death, by the poisoned cup, there seems an allusion in Hebrews 2:9, Jesus Christ, by the grace of God, tasted death for every man. The whole world are here represented as standing guilty and condemned before the tribunal of God.; into every man’s hand the deadly cup is put, and he is required to drink off the poison-Jesus enters, takes every man’s cup out of his hands, and drinks off the poison, and thus tastes or suffers the death with every man otherwise must undergone.”

I think sometimes in our trouble days, we tend to want to take the short cut. The easy way out. I know I do. I Find myself in those places more often then I think. This world gives us so much access to the things that we believe can benefit us. My medication is one thing that I have to be very careful of. I don’t want to be completely dependent on a substance that only gives me temporary fixing. It’s not going to fix me, but simply it’s more of a bandaid. It covers my cut, so that no bacteria can do more damage to it. what I need is the rubbing alcohol. yeah, it stings. Only for a little bit, though. Instead, it kills off all the bacteria that is already there, and fights off any germs germs that will try to weaken your immune system. We wouldn’t want your immune system shutting down your body. In fact, rubbing alcohol allows a cut to heal properly. Jesus can more often come off like that rubbing alcohol. We just have to believe that the works of the rubbing alcohol is for our own good, our own protection from bacterium that wants to do more harm than good. Jesus, does all things for our good. Believe that.

I trembled once more after reading the quote above. Not because I was frighten or lost. No, instead I trembled in the victorious display He put upon this world. Let’s be honest, “satan you have no days here!”

“…the spirit indeed is willing(vs.39)…”

The Son of God set his mind, readied his heart and displayed courage when he bore all trials. He took upon himself to carry all sins of men and wash us all with his blood. My Jesus, EMBRACED it all. Even through distress, grief- the weight of carrying all our sins he still manages to stretch out his entire body on that cross and died. AND in that death there is VICTORY. His love lavished on us and called us children of God. I can cry out, “ABBA, I belong to you.” Because, though I am scared to my bones of this diagnosis I know you are my all, you are inside of me. And yes, my flesh may fail you a thousand times, I will doubt my faith in trouble days to come before me, but my heart is set on you. My weakness will not make it’s name in my heart, not this time. The lies that speaks in my mind can play tricks to my soul, But, your desire for human companionship speaks louder, the fullness of your human nature, is no less in value than your divine nature. The willingness to walk through the shadows of the valley to get to you, is a thousand “HALLELUJAH’S” in my heart.

Tonight, as I am finishing this up. I am in awe of how powerful our God truly is. In this short time coming, He has and still is working through me in this season. I’m far from being completely healed, but in the process of learning how to be healed. I have to remind myself that even if we all have the same problem, everyone handles it differently from one another. If I need more time to get better then I will have to learn to be still. Yes, it’s going to be hard. I’m sure of it. I pray that this may ring TRUTH in your ears, as well. Through any trials that you may be facing in this season or these couple of seasons. You are heard. Your voice is being lifted to the Most High, and He is threading all his goodness to weave in you the BEST you. Be still and listen. Embrace and get ready to embark the path that he has ingrained before you, my dearest friends.

Thank you, Jesus. that you extended that Grace to me. That you took my place so that I may be set free from the bondage that tries to hold me down.

#embrace #bipolar #setfreefrommybondage

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maepolzine · 7 years

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Life Lately | February 2017

To be honest, this month has been very stressful financially. It's made me revalue things and starting next month's I'm going to attempt to adopt a more minimalist lifestyle. From not buying things unless they are truly needed and getting rid of all the unnecessary excess that I've been holding onto. Like sweatshirts that I've had for years but never thrown out for sentimental reasons. I'm going to be donating around half of my closet and majorly weeding through all the other things in my room. It's going to be hard but I think I can manage it. I also need to do the same with the boxes still sitting at my mom's house. I don't even remember what's in them so most likely it will all go. Another reason I'm adopting part of this lifestyle is to stop my terrible shopping habit and this lifestyle would definitely enforce that. As with my depression/hyper manic phases of bipolar disorder I either go ham on shopping when I'm manic, because it all looks so good and I literally don't even think about what's in my bank account. Or when I'm depressed then I think "Oh I should get myself something nice to cheer me up." And both happened this month. So I don't really know if the minimalist lifestyle will help stop that or just make me feel like a failure. But I'm not going to go so minimalist that I can't get things that I generally want to try.

At the beginning of the month, my roommate got a concussion while on her lunch break and had to get several staples in her head. So of course, being the good roommate that I am, I took her to the hospital and stayed home with her immediately afterwards to make sure she was good. All I can say is, I do not want to go back to the hospital any time soon. Last month was for Pixie and this month was for Rose. So Rose/Pixie/Kiki/family, this is all I have to say to you, "I kind of want a break guys. No hospitals for rest of year."

Also at the beginning of the month I got fed up with my hair. I hadn't dyed it in a year and the balayage grew out to the put of being a really bad ombré. And I just generally hated it. I couldn't stand looking at the color anymore and decided to bleach my hair. Now I knew it wouldn't go platinum or cool like I wish I could achieve, but I wanted something more in the blond family. So I bleached it myself not being able to afford going into a salon. And only one spot on my head would bleach. So I waited a few days, carefully hiding the bleach spot, then got some 30 vol. developer and a very ice platinum hair dye so I could try again. This time it turned out alright. It's a nice warm blond like I used to have in high school. In a few weeks I'm going to dye it again to see if I can make it any lighter, but I need to wait or I will royally fry my hair. Which is not what I'm going for. I also think before the next time I dye my hair, I need to get a haircut to put in layers and get rid of the split-ends. There is no shampoo or conditioner that can fix it at this point because it's been over a year since the last time it was cut. That's crazy! I used to be good and got it cut/dyed every three months. And that hasn't happened in a long time. So haircut! We're going to do that in March.

I also saw the return of the cycles for my bipolar disorder. And it's come and gone over the years, but this time it was approaching as severe as back in high school. Now I'm not going to start back up my old addictions or anything like that, I am way too proud of how long it's been since I last cut so there's no way I would go back to that. But I can see the depressive cycle for sure starting to affect my daily life. I'm setting an appointment up for myself at the end of March to finally go back into the doctor and maybe go back onto medication. Even writing that makes my heart sink, but I rather have the chemicals in my brain that control my emotions under control then let them destroy my life. Granted saying that, by that point I'll probably be out of the cycle or into a hypomanic phase.

I also decided to take a good hard look at the blog and decided I will no longer be doing monthly favorites. I didn't feel that genuine in them anymore. They were generally just a recap of the things I got that month, but hadn't used so much as I was restricting myself to go "oh that worked, I'll throw that into the favorites 'cause I can't say the same items over and over granted I use them all the time." Plus I was starting to struggle with just what to even write or say in them. Plus now that I'm doing week in lipstick, I've been trying just to work in other things that I've been loving or using into those posts. Not to the same degree but for sure talking about things I liked or disliked about the lip product on those days. Since I haven't really been wearing too much makeup over than some lipstick, eyeliner and mascara. I only use foundation on a day where my skin has just had it or when I'm filming. And all the other types of beauty products whenever I'm in the mood to doll up.

Several years ago I used to draw all the time, but recently just haven't done any. So I decided to get back into it. And I really have been interested in getting into digital drawing. In order to do this I got a Wacom drawing tablet off of Amazon for $80 and downloaded a free program that I could use to draw into. Though I might just switch over to Photoshop since I know that program more, but I want to try the other program first. Mainly I'm going to be posting the things I draw onto Rose & Mae as to begin with I'm going to be taking inspiration from my favorite video games and movies to create drawings. But they will also be on my second Instagram account: Mae Polzine Art.

#lifestyle #life lately #personal #diary

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