That's all.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Getting To Know Gatsby
*This post is going to be part of a series of blog posts highlighting books I have read, in which I discuss my likes, dislikes, and feelings about a novel. If you have any book suggestions, please leave them in the comments below!*
Lately, I have been learning a lot about the Roaring Twenties, but in reality, it wasn't as glamorous as I thought it would be. While, yes, there was the absolutely gorgeous change in women's fashion, and amazing music, the Guilded Age wasn't all we've made it seem. War and the Influenza had recently ravished the country, the women's movement was going downhill (although we had secured the right to vote), and despite our government's greatest attempts to ban alcoholism, people were becoming drunker than ever. The parties got bigger as the nation's need for morals got smaller. Or, so they thought.
The thing is, even in the 1920's there were repercussions for bad behavior.
Thus enters my new favorite book, The Great Gatsby. A quick summary of this novel (as found on the ever trusty Cliffs Notes website):
"F Scott Fitzgerald's novel,The Great Gatsby, follows Jay Gatsby, a man who orders his life around one desire: to be reunited with Daisy Buchanan, the love he lost five years earlier. Gatsby's quest leads him from poverty to wealth, into the arms of his beloved, and eventually to death."
Pretty dramatic, right! What the summary doesn't tell you is that Daisy is married to a man named Tom, who is having an affair with a woman named Myrtle, who is also married. Kinda confusing...
Gatsby, a self made millionaire, lives in the ever prestigious West Egg, in a house that could rival the Queen's palace. Almost every week, Gatsby holds very large, and VERY expensive parties, which include plenty of alcohol, and people from all walks of life. This, of coarse, is all done to attract the attention of Daisy Buchanan, a rich,married (emphasis on the married part of that sentence), and very beautiful woman who lives on the opposite side of a the river in East Egg. Sometimes Gatsby even longingly stares at her green dock light across the water, in hopes that he will someday be able to rekindle the romance that started five years ago, before Daisy got married to Tom. Through the help of a cousin, named Nick Carraway (who is also the narrator of this tragedy) Daisy reconnects with James Gatsby, and a secret love affair ensues.
At first, you would think that the affair is somewhat justified, I mean, Tom Buchanan has never been good to Daisy right? Gatsby is the one she needs!
Wrong. Daisy needs a lesson on making good choices, and apparently everyone else in the novel does too.
This lesson, comes by way of murder. The murder of Gatsby, to be precise. Without giving any spoilers, lets just say that they all get what God intended for them.
So what did I like about The Great Gatsby? Well, pretty much everything. The writing style that Fitzgerald uses is filled with poetic metaphors, and symbolism, but not to the point where it is overbearing. And the lessons learned, oh my goodness I could go on for hours. I mean, really, it got to the point where I had to set the book down, and remind myself that the people living within these pages were indeed just fictional characters, not people I could reprimand. Within the sin, you see the repercussions to each character's mistakes. Gatsby is killed, Daisy stays in an unhappy marriage, Tom remains guilty of the death of a woman, and Nick has some psychiatric problems, including the inability to fully love someone. Basically, their lives become a mess, all because of some lust and greed.
So what do you think? Will you give Gatsby a try?
Lately, I have been learning a lot about the Roaring Twenties, but in reality, it wasn't as glamorous as I thought it would be. While, yes, there was the absolutely gorgeous change in women's fashion, and amazing music, the Guilded Age wasn't all we've made it seem. War and the Influenza had recently ravished the country, the women's movement was going downhill (although we had secured the right to vote), and despite our government's greatest attempts to ban alcoholism, people were becoming drunker than ever. The parties got bigger as the nation's need for morals got smaller. Or, so they thought.
The thing is, even in the 1920's there were repercussions for bad behavior.
Thus enters my new favorite book, The Great Gatsby. A quick summary of this novel (as found on the ever trusty Cliffs Notes website):
"F Scott Fitzgerald's novel,The Great Gatsby, follows Jay Gatsby, a man who orders his life around one desire: to be reunited with Daisy Buchanan, the love he lost five years earlier. Gatsby's quest leads him from poverty to wealth, into the arms of his beloved, and eventually to death."
Pretty dramatic, right! What the summary doesn't tell you is that Daisy is married to a man named Tom, who is having an affair with a woman named Myrtle, who is also married. Kinda confusing...
Gatsby, a self made millionaire, lives in the ever prestigious West Egg, in a house that could rival the Queen's palace. Almost every week, Gatsby holds very large, and VERY expensive parties, which include plenty of alcohol, and people from all walks of life. This, of coarse, is all done to attract the attention of Daisy Buchanan, a rich,married (emphasis on the married part of that sentence), and very beautiful woman who lives on the opposite side of a the river in East Egg. Sometimes Gatsby even longingly stares at her green dock light across the water, in hopes that he will someday be able to rekindle the romance that started five years ago, before Daisy got married to Tom. Through the help of a cousin, named Nick Carraway (who is also the narrator of this tragedy) Daisy reconnects with James Gatsby, and a secret love affair ensues.
At first, you would think that the affair is somewhat justified, I mean, Tom Buchanan has never been good to Daisy right? Gatsby is the one she needs!
Wrong. Daisy needs a lesson on making good choices, and apparently everyone else in the novel does too.
This lesson, comes by way of murder. The murder of Gatsby, to be precise. Without giving any spoilers, lets just say that they all get what God intended for them.
So what did I like about The Great Gatsby? Well, pretty much everything. The writing style that Fitzgerald uses is filled with poetic metaphors, and symbolism, but not to the point where it is overbearing. And the lessons learned, oh my goodness I could go on for hours. I mean, really, it got to the point where I had to set the book down, and remind myself that the people living within these pages were indeed just fictional characters, not people I could reprimand. Within the sin, you see the repercussions to each character's mistakes. Gatsby is killed, Daisy stays in an unhappy marriage, Tom remains guilty of the death of a woman, and Nick has some psychiatric problems, including the inability to fully love someone. Basically, their lives become a mess, all because of some lust and greed.
So what do you think? Will you give Gatsby a try?
Sunday, February 14, 2016
My Anxiety (Part Two)
It only got worse from there.
Panic attacks soon became a frequent thing, and before I knew it I began to get them over the stupidest things. In fact, I once had a panic attack about getting in the shower. It was that bad.
Thankfully, my mom and dad realized that I was in need of some serious help. So, I went to counseling! When I was younger, I probably would be ashamed to admit something like this. I mean, letting people know that I needed some help figuring out how to work with my beautiful brain sounded preposterous. But now, I realize how much I should be talking about it.
I think most people are afraid to get mental help because they believe that only the broken things need fixing. Honestly, I thought that too, until I actually did it. Therapy and counseling are a great way to learn the best strategies for working with your disorder, and above all, it gives you someone to talk to about your problems (without that awful "oh my gosh they are probably sick of hearing about this" feeling.) You should never be ashamed to get some assistance. I mean, think of it this way: a cancer patient receives chemotherapy, because in order to fight off their disease, they have to get it. The same principle applies to taking the initiative, and going to counseling.
The severity of my anxiety fluctuates with time, and while I still battle it every day, it has become something that I can manage. I pray that by telling my story, I was able to "normalize" something that can be so foreign, and give hope to those who are struggling with the same things.
Because, there is always hope. No matter how scary the world seems to be.
Happy Valentines Day, my beautiful friends! Take some time today to write down a list of all the things make you happy (like I did here), and spread the love by sharing some of my posts!
Love, Sadie
Panic attacks soon became a frequent thing, and before I knew it I began to get them over the stupidest things. In fact, I once had a panic attack about getting in the shower. It was that bad.
Thankfully, my mom and dad realized that I was in need of some serious help. So, I went to counseling! When I was younger, I probably would be ashamed to admit something like this. I mean, letting people know that I needed some help figuring out how to work with my beautiful brain sounded preposterous. But now, I realize how much I should be talking about it.
I think most people are afraid to get mental help because they believe that only the broken things need fixing. Honestly, I thought that too, until I actually did it. Therapy and counseling are a great way to learn the best strategies for working with your disorder, and above all, it gives you someone to talk to about your problems (without that awful "oh my gosh they are probably sick of hearing about this" feeling.) You should never be ashamed to get some assistance. I mean, think of it this way: a cancer patient receives chemotherapy, because in order to fight off their disease, they have to get it. The same principle applies to taking the initiative, and going to counseling.
The severity of my anxiety fluctuates with time, and while I still battle it every day, it has become something that I can manage. I pray that by telling my story, I was able to "normalize" something that can be so foreign, and give hope to those who are struggling with the same things.
Because, there is always hope. No matter how scary the world seems to be.
Happy Valentines Day, my beautiful friends! Take some time today to write down a list of all the things make you happy (like I did here), and spread the love by sharing some of my posts!
Love, Sadie
Saturday, January 23, 2016
My Anxiety (Part One)
Anxiety, to me, is like the monster I used to make my parents check under the bed for. "Nope!" They would say with a tired, but cheery smile on their face. "No monster here!" Filled with doubt, I pulled the polka dot covered sheets up to my chin, as if somehow, the blanket would act as a shield against the creature I knew was there. "But mom..." I began to sit up. I mean, it seemed like the most logical thing to do, seeing as I was in immanent distress. Quickly my mother would hurry back to the bed, and comfort me to the point of drowsiness, then leave to turn off the light again. My arm shot out of the tightly tucked cocoon of blankets I was wrapped in. "Mom, please! Check one more time!" So she would. But without fail, my wonderful, caring, beautiful mother would say the same thing before she left to turn out the light.
"Sadie, you don't need to worry, it's all just in your head."
While the words rang true at the time, for the monsters I thought lurked quietly under my bed, I realize that the same fear bothers me now. Except, the monster I fear doesn't take up space beneath my mattress. Instead, it whispers hello whenever I have a moment of peace. It hides behind good opportunities and happiness, waiting for just the right moment to pop out and scare me. So, I guess my mom was right.
The monsters are all inside of my head.
I think it came to a climax when I reached fifth grade. I mean, I was always an anxious child, but it was never to the point of physical exhaustion or obsession. There were little things that bothered me from time to time, but like most children, the majority of my days were spent using my imagination, allowing no extra room for my monster. But then came my first panic attack.
There are two occasions that could have possibly been day of my first panic attack, The first time I had one was during a week long camp in the summer before fifth grade. My group and I were out hiking in the woods, when it started raining. Immediately, my heart began to pound. How were we going to find our way down the mountain? Where were our camp leaders? What if we were lost here forever? What if someone got struck by lightning? What if I never saw my parents again?
The sheer number of questions entering my mind was growing at an alarmingly fast rate. Before I knew it, tears had begun to stream down my face, and I was shaking. We made it halfway down the mountain before I started screaming.
For the rest of camp, I was referred to as "meltdown girl".
The second time I had a panic attack was in a movie theater. My heart rate skyrocketed, and I leaned over to my mom to ask her if I was having a heart attack. Then, as its speed increased, my questions became statements. "Mom," I whispered, "I am having a heart attack." Quickly she took me out of the theater and asked me to explain my symptoms more clearly, including any weird thoughts I was having. After I had spoken, she took my two little hands in her own, and with the most bleak look I had ever seen in her eyes, said five words I can sometimes still hear echoing in my head.
"You're having a panic attack."
"Sadie, you don't need to worry, it's all just in your head."
While the words rang true at the time, for the monsters I thought lurked quietly under my bed, I realize that the same fear bothers me now. Except, the monster I fear doesn't take up space beneath my mattress. Instead, it whispers hello whenever I have a moment of peace. It hides behind good opportunities and happiness, waiting for just the right moment to pop out and scare me. So, I guess my mom was right.
The monsters are all inside of my head.
I think it came to a climax when I reached fifth grade. I mean, I was always an anxious child, but it was never to the point of physical exhaustion or obsession. There were little things that bothered me from time to time, but like most children, the majority of my days were spent using my imagination, allowing no extra room for my monster. But then came my first panic attack.
There are two occasions that could have possibly been day of my first panic attack, The first time I had one was during a week long camp in the summer before fifth grade. My group and I were out hiking in the woods, when it started raining. Immediately, my heart began to pound. How were we going to find our way down the mountain? Where were our camp leaders? What if we were lost here forever? What if someone got struck by lightning? What if I never saw my parents again?
The sheer number of questions entering my mind was growing at an alarmingly fast rate. Before I knew it, tears had begun to stream down my face, and I was shaking. We made it halfway down the mountain before I started screaming.
For the rest of camp, I was referred to as "meltdown girl".
The second time I had a panic attack was in a movie theater. My heart rate skyrocketed, and I leaned over to my mom to ask her if I was having a heart attack. Then, as its speed increased, my questions became statements. "Mom," I whispered, "I am having a heart attack." Quickly she took me out of the theater and asked me to explain my symptoms more clearly, including any weird thoughts I was having. After I had spoken, she took my two little hands in her own, and with the most bleak look I had ever seen in her eyes, said five words I can sometimes still hear echoing in my head.
"You're having a panic attack."
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Euphoria Found in Silliness
I have five different stages when laughing.
1. The Movie Star Chuckle
2. The Uncontrollable Giggle
3. The Congested Elephant
4. The "I'm not crying, there is just something in my eye" Catastrophe
5. Total Loss of All Muscle Control and Perception of Surroundings
*sidenote* If you ever see me in a stage five giggling fit, run as fast as you can, change your name, and leave the country. I will not be held responsible for any injuries or mental scarring.
Honestly, laughing is one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes I get into one of those oh-my-goodness-everything-you-say-is-freaking-hilarious moods, and wish I could always feel that way.
And then BAM! EPIPHANY! I realized that I could! I just need to be brave enough to embrace my inner weirdo!
I am one of the craziest people, (It's not a lie) but being myself in front of others has always been hard for me. Just as I begin to feel comfortable around someone, I remind myself not to let the facade slip, and pretend like I am just a little bit normal. It's stupid, I know. Thats why I am getting rid of it.
And you should too.
Why, you may ask? Well, its because your personality is amazing. (Lets face it, everything about you is amazing). So, why not let it shine through? There will always be people who ridicule you, that is a fact. But don't let their stupidity get in the way of your happiness.
Embrace your silliness. I promise it's worth it.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
#NoMakeupMonday
Here it is: 2016.
At the fresh start of a new year, I can’t help but feel as
if I am standing on the edge of a precipice, just waiting to fall off. Everything I have learned in the previous
three-hundred and sixty-five days has brought me to this point, and I can
either choose to fly, or to fall.
Okay, that was a bit dramatic, but still…
2015 was a great year for me, but my excitement grows as I
think about all of the novel adventures I will be able to take part in during
the new year. I have big plans, people.
BIG PLANS! Some of which, actually include you.
Yes, your beautiful eyes read that right. I have plans for
you.
It is my pleasure to introduce something that I hope will
help you recognize your true beauty, in all of its fantasmagical gloriousness. This experience, which I hope you will join me
in, will not only make you comfortable in your own skin, but also help us take
a stand against societal beauty standards.
This, my friend, is NO
MAKEUP MONDAY!!!!
Here is how it works:
-Every Monday wipe your face clean of all beauty products,
and let your perfect imperfections shine through! It’s hard the first couple of
times, especially if you are a daily makeup wearer like me!
-Upload an inspirational thought about beauty, a selfie, or
even a video, on your favorite social media outlets using the hashtags #NoMakeupMonday
and #BecauseIAmBeautiful. Make sure to send it to me on my Facebook page (here)
so I can see all of your lovely thoughts and faces!
-Remember that you are beautiful just the way you are!
Love you!
Sadie
Sunday, December 6, 2015
Blessed With Imperfections.
It would seem in this life, that all we are striving for is perfection. An unreachable, unattainable, and unrealistic goal that wears us down little by little. We want perfection in our home lives, perfection in our ascent up the corporate ladder, perfection in our thoughts, words, actions, appearance. We crave something that can never be reached, in pursuit of complete joy, but in the process lose all hope of it.
When I was going through the most difficult time with my Body Dysmorphia, perfection is what I craved more than anything else. I didn't just want to look perfect, I needed to. I would spend hours in front of the mirror to get ready for the day, and if my hair wasn't exactly how I wanted it, my whole outlook would be tainted. I remember once a girl at school ruffled my hair up in pursuit of making it imperfect. Long story short, I cried. In my eyes, looking good was a synonym for feeling good.
That is absolutely not true.
Society's standard of beauty shouldn't ever be in your definition of looking "good". You look good when you are doing good, not when you are wearing the highest heels and your makeup is perfect. If you strive to serve others and make the world a better place, who cares if you have some stretch marks and acne? I should hope that when you help people they will look over your "flaws", and focus on the beautiful things you are accomplishing.
I mean, think about it, no one ever criticized Mother Teresa for her looks.
You can never be perfect, but you can be yourself, and that is close enough.
When I was going through the most difficult time with my Body Dysmorphia, perfection is what I craved more than anything else. I didn't just want to look perfect, I needed to. I would spend hours in front of the mirror to get ready for the day, and if my hair wasn't exactly how I wanted it, my whole outlook would be tainted. I remember once a girl at school ruffled my hair up in pursuit of making it imperfect. Long story short, I cried. In my eyes, looking good was a synonym for feeling good.
That is absolutely not true.
Society's standard of beauty shouldn't ever be in your definition of looking "good". You look good when you are doing good, not when you are wearing the highest heels and your makeup is perfect. If you strive to serve others and make the world a better place, who cares if you have some stretch marks and acne? I should hope that when you help people they will look over your "flaws", and focus on the beautiful things you are accomplishing.
I mean, think about it, no one ever criticized Mother Teresa for her looks.
Sunday, November 15, 2015
Scars
In this life we all receive
some scars upon our skin.
While some are found on the outside,
others stay within.
He may have a battle wound,
and a heroic tale to tell,
of once upon a time when
his friend was shot, and fell.
She may have a scar from
the cancer that took her hair,
stole some breath from her hard working lungs,
and left her gasping for air.
But amid all of the physical pain
stands a girl with terrified eyes,
whose mind is racing with worry and fear,
and thoughts that she will die.
"Oh how brave!"They chant to the wounded and sick.
"Hooray!" They say to the ill.
"Hmm." They say to the girl with wide eyes.
"Just calm down and take a pill."
"Wait!" She screams!
But it is too late, the people have already gone.
They don't care about her soul rattling cries,
And leave just like the dawn.
"I'm fighting a war that stays in my head,
and I know you don't understand.
Every morning and night I battle the fear,
and mend the strife at hand.
My skull is a barricade,
keeping the warfare shut inside.
Believe me, I have plenty of scars
They are just too easy to hide."
Her words float into silence,
reaching no listening ear.
How can someone be praised for courage,
when no one is there to hear?
But it is too late, the people have already gone.
They don't care about her soul rattling cries,
And leave just like the dawn.
"I'm fighting a war that stays in my head,
and I know you don't understand.
Every morning and night I battle the fear,
and mend the strife at hand.
My skull is a barricade,
keeping the warfare shut inside.
Believe me, I have plenty of scars
They are just too easy to hide."
Her words float into silence,
reaching no listening ear.
How can someone be praised for courage,
when no one is there to hear?
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Climbing Trees and Epiphanies.
Ever since I was little, I loved climbing trees. It gave me a sense of euphoric happiness and a rush of adrenaline as I reached the top. Each branch seemed like an adventure waiting to happen, and let me tell you, I was all about adventure.
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to experience these feelings all over again. The knotty texture of the wood pushed into the smooth parts of my hands, the leaves rustled in my face, and the tips of my fingers grew cold as I did something I hadn't for a really long time.
Long story short, I sat in the Linden tree in my backyard for a good hour and a half.
Each branch wrapped me in its sturdy embrace, providing just enough comfort that I wanted to stay longer. It was while the tree held me that I realized something about myself.
I just want to have a completely passionate, silly, and adventurous life. So I will.
I will climb trees.
I will throw snowballs.
I will run barefoot through grass.
I will pretend.
I will splash through puddles.
I will laugh
...and laugh
...and laugh.
But also I will love
and cherish
and hope
and dream.
Because that is what I want my life to be about.
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to experience these feelings all over again. The knotty texture of the wood pushed into the smooth parts of my hands, the leaves rustled in my face, and the tips of my fingers grew cold as I did something I hadn't for a really long time.
Long story short, I sat in the Linden tree in my backyard for a good hour and a half.
Each branch wrapped me in its sturdy embrace, providing just enough comfort that I wanted to stay longer. It was while the tree held me that I realized something about myself.
I just want to have a completely passionate, silly, and adventurous life. So I will.
I will climb trees.
I will throw snowballs.
I will run barefoot through grass.
I will pretend.
I will splash through puddles.
I will laugh
...and laugh
...and laugh.
But also I will love
and cherish
and hope
and dream.
Because that is what I want my life to be about.
Happiness.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
A Love Letter.
Dear Autumn,
I believe myself entirely incapable of expressing my feelings for you in words. You seem to leave everyone, myself included, in awe as you tumble down from the mountains. Every leaf is captivated by your beauty, turning scarlet as you rush past, unable to contain their blushes any longer, and gradually falling for you as I have. When you are here, days that once were filled with laziness by the pool transform into the longing for adventure. Everyone makes preparations for your visit. Cutting their grass a little bit shorter, putting on their best sweaters, and creating pumpkin flavored everything, just for your liking. Even the strict schoolteachers put their lessons on hold, just to get a glimpse of you. I would have to admit that I am much more enamored of you than the average Joe. When you come, I cant help but feel excitement in the air, and a longing to be in the mountains.
I guess what I am trying to say, is that I love you.
And, it makes me sad to think that you only come once a year.
What could be a year round adventure only lasts a couple short, glorious, months. Months in which I spend all of my time devoted to you. In your honor I go to bonfires, hikes, parties, plays, and so much more. If I could, I would stay every moment with you.
You are glorious.
Sincerely,
Sadie
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Beautiful Things
I don't know about you, but sometimes I just need a pick me up. Like really really badly.Today happens to be one of those days.So, in lieu of a normal blog post, I am going to list a bunch of beautiful things that make me happy. Just because I can.
1.The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints
2. My family
3. My friends
4. Dancing
5. Writing
6. Poetry
7. Good Music *cough* Imagine Dragons *cough*
8. My Ukulele
9. Walking through crowded halls in high-school
10. Tight hugs
11. Loose hugs
12. Hugs from behind
13. ... basically just hugs in general.
14. Babies fresh from the tub
15. Sweatpants
16. British television
18. Old movies
19. Jimmy Stewart
20. My camera
21. Cold grass
22. Fuzzy socks
23. Christmas lights
24. Wet "snowman" snow
25. Marshmallows
26. Cake batter ice cream
27. Long books
28. Handwritten notes
29. Real life love stories
30. You.
1.The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints
2. My family
3. My friends
4. Dancing
5. Writing
6. Poetry
7. Good Music *cough* Imagine Dragons *cough*
8. My Ukulele
9. Walking through crowded halls in high-school
10. Tight hugs
11. Loose hugs
12. Hugs from behind
13. ... basically just hugs in general.
14. Babies fresh from the tub
15. Sweatpants
16. British television
18. Old movies
19. Jimmy Stewart
20. My camera
21. Cold grass
22. Fuzzy socks
23. Christmas lights
24. Wet "snowman" snow
25. Marshmallows
26. Cake batter ice cream
27. Long books
28. Handwritten notes
29. Real life love stories
30. You.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Okay.
Sometimes life is hard. Like, really hard.
So hard that sometimes you don't feel like getting out of bed in the morning, and that no body understands, and that staying at home is a much better option that having to face the world and their plastic smiles.
You don't want to be happy. You don't want to be sad. You just want to be alone and cry, but be with people and laugh all at the same time.
You are angry and depressed and broken.
So hard that sometimes you don't feel like getting out of bed in the morning, and that no body understands, and that staying at home is a much better option that having to face the world and their plastic smiles.
You don't want to be happy. You don't want to be sad. You just want to be alone and cry, but be with people and laugh all at the same time.
You are angry and depressed and broken.
But that is okay.
For some reason, I feel like this is all that I have to say. Its not poetic or beautifully written, but it is true. You are not a failure if you are sad.
Okay?
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones
Okay, I am going to be completely honest with you guys right now.
I freaking hate the saying "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.".
Frankly, this little ditty isn't right, nor should it at any times be considered even halfway truthful.
Words hurt. A lot. I would rather be slapped in the face 500 times than told I am worthless. Why? Because pain eventually subsides, but words can linger forever.
Although happy words should be remembered more, it tends to be the angry speeches that truly stick. For example, when I was in elementary school, there was this girl who said she hated me. I remember exactly where I was when the words fell out of her angry mouth, and how badly my little heart hurt to think that someone could feel that much aversion towards me. I had broken an arm before, fell and scraped my knee, stubbed my toe, but none of those could compare to the pain I felt then.
Sadly, I cant seem to remember any of the nice things she ever said.
Once, in middle school, I was told the only reason my friends liked me was because I was "pretty". The same girl later called me a profane name behind my back, wrote a page long note explaining how much she hated me, and attempted to destroy every friendship I cherished.
For some reason every nice thing she spoke in my general vicinity was received with suspicion and anger. Hmmm, I wonder why I felt that way.
Sure, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words are more like cannons.
With every fiber of my being, I plead with you to choose your words wisely. Anger, hate, malice, and jealousy can destroy relationships, and all together make life crappy. One small sentence can lead to years filled with sadness. I mean, think about it. Would you rather be someones happy memory, or their tormenting nightmare?
To combat the never ceasing war of words, build a fortress surrounding other people's hearts. Construct it gently, and build it brick by brick with kind thoughts and loving words. Tell them little facts about their personality, share happy stories, enjoy silence together, but never ever willfully hurt them. You just don't know when you could push them over the edge.
Please, I beg of you, stop the warfare. Love people, love life, love yourself, love little things, and above all share your happiness.
If you have ever been bullied, or are being bullied, please email me at becauseofbeautifullives@gmail.com. I would be happy to listen, and share with you what knowledge I possibly could.
I love you!
Sadie
I freaking hate the saying "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.".
Frankly, this little ditty isn't right, nor should it at any times be considered even halfway truthful.
Words hurt. A lot. I would rather be slapped in the face 500 times than told I am worthless. Why? Because pain eventually subsides, but words can linger forever.
Although happy words should be remembered more, it tends to be the angry speeches that truly stick. For example, when I was in elementary school, there was this girl who said she hated me. I remember exactly where I was when the words fell out of her angry mouth, and how badly my little heart hurt to think that someone could feel that much aversion towards me. I had broken an arm before, fell and scraped my knee, stubbed my toe, but none of those could compare to the pain I felt then.
Sadly, I cant seem to remember any of the nice things she ever said.
Once, in middle school, I was told the only reason my friends liked me was because I was "pretty". The same girl later called me a profane name behind my back, wrote a page long note explaining how much she hated me, and attempted to destroy every friendship I cherished.
For some reason every nice thing she spoke in my general vicinity was received with suspicion and anger. Hmmm, I wonder why I felt that way.
Sure, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words are more like cannons.
With every fiber of my being, I plead with you to choose your words wisely. Anger, hate, malice, and jealousy can destroy relationships, and all together make life crappy. One small sentence can lead to years filled with sadness. I mean, think about it. Would you rather be someones happy memory, or their tormenting nightmare?
To combat the never ceasing war of words, build a fortress surrounding other people's hearts. Construct it gently, and build it brick by brick with kind thoughts and loving words. Tell them little facts about their personality, share happy stories, enjoy silence together, but never ever willfully hurt them. You just don't know when you could push them over the edge.
Please, I beg of you, stop the warfare. Love people, love life, love yourself, love little things, and above all share your happiness.
If you have ever been bullied, or are being bullied, please email me at becauseofbeautifullives@gmail.com. I would be happy to listen, and share with you what knowledge I possibly could.
I love you!
Sadie
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Calm
Hey guys!
So, if you havent noticed, I kinda have a theme going on for this blog. Some of my posts are about how YOU are beautiful, and others are about how you can make your life beautiful. Well, I am about to bring in a new blog topic!
CUE THE EPIC MUSIC!
For years I have loved writing stories. There is just something magical about taking my thoughts, and putting them on a page for others to read and interpret. Mmmm. I just love it. So, once a month I am going to present you with A SHORT STORY! I think stories are beautiful, so why not put them on a blog all about true beauty?
Without further ado, here is my first short story that I have ever published on the internet. I hope you like it!
So, if you havent noticed, I kinda have a theme going on for this blog. Some of my posts are about how YOU are beautiful, and others are about how you can make your life beautiful. Well, I am about to bring in a new blog topic!
CUE THE EPIC MUSIC!
For years I have loved writing stories. There is just something magical about taking my thoughts, and putting them on a page for others to read and interpret. Mmmm. I just love it. So, once a month I am going to present you with A SHORT STORY! I think stories are beautiful, so why not put them on a blog all about true beauty?
Without further ado, here is my first short story that I have ever published on the internet. I hope you like it!
She shook as he held her, sitting on the tiles of the
deserted high school hallway. Her breath came in quick uncontrollable bursts,
eyes darting this way and that. He contemplated what to do if she passed out.
There were only three people left in the building, one in the front office,
only a two minutes’ walk from the secluded corner where they sat. The others
remained on the second and third floors, where they had, only two hours ago,
been counting down the minutes until each student went home. If anything did
happen, the boy was sure he knew what to do. It would only take thirty seconds
to run to the office, maybe thirty-five if he dialed 911 on the way.
A heart wrenching sob pierced the air, and pulled him out of
his thoughts. “Oliver” the girl gasped, barely able to let his name escape her
blue lips. “Oliver, please! Make it stop!” A single tear rolled down her cheek,
falling gracefully on his chest. Pain and fear clouded her emerald eyes. She
was fighting a war inside that couldn’t be seen, dodging bullets that were in
her mind, and throwing grenades at her frantic thoughts. His voice caught when
he tried to speak. Seeing her like this made his heart heavy. Why do the best
people always have the hardest trials? “Mercedes, focus. Only you can stop it.
You just have to try.” “I am trying!” She practically screamed. “I never stop
trying! I fight every single day of my life! Can’t somebody else be on the
front lines for once?”
As if on cue, Mercedes’ breathing sped up again. Rapid puffs
of air came out of her mouth, and her eyes widened in terror. Every part of her
slender body trembled as the fear she longed to hide consumed every happy
thought that ever crossed her mind. In vain, she groped for the fabric of
Oliver’s shirt, needing something to hold on to while her world was falling to pieces.
Anxiety, she had told him, was a monster that came
unannounced; filled with rage at nonsense and fear towards everything.
“Mercedes, you are hyperventilating. I need you to control
your breathing so you don’t pass out.” Oliver’s brows were furrowed in
concentration. Please, he thought. Fight as hard as you can. “I-I-I can’t.”
The air became increasingly thin with every shallow breath she was taking.
Beads of perspiration collected on her forehead like dew on the morning grass.
She was trying so hard, but something held her back. Part
of her wanted to faint, to escape this world full of panic and fear. Black clouded
the edges of her vision, and horror gripped her heart. “Oliver-“her lids became
heavy.
“Mere, look at me. Look me straight in the eyes.” She
wondered why he sounded scared. Why would he be if he didn’t have anxiety? “Mere!”
Gradually she fought to turn her head, and their eyes met. “Listen to me
Mercedes. You need to put your back against my chest. If you want to stop
hyperventilating, you have to breathe when I breathe. Okay?” Sobs racked her body, and she felt like
throwing up. “No.” She gasped. “I can’t.” Unwillingly, Oliver turned her so
that there was no space between his own chest and her back. “Please Mere,
follow me. Breathe.”
Their pace started out slow, Mercedes breathing correctly for
a moment, then slipping into hyperventilation once again. Oliver offered an
assortment of encouragements, some filled with hope, but others tinged with
worry. He knew she desperately needed air, but her lungs could only receive it
if she tried harder.
“Oliver, give me your hand.” She said shakily. “If you give
me your hand I can stop.” Together they intertwined their fingers, uniting them
in purpose. Hope rose in Oliver’s chest. She was calming down, it was working.
Gradually she paced her breaths with his, and succumbed to the even beats of
his heart.
He felt her relax, and could only imagine the peace that was
spreading across her face. “Mercedes,” he whispered in her ear, “you did it!”
The last of her fear washed away, and fatigue replaced it instead. She wanted
to apologize for her unreasonable panic, but found herself too tired to try.
While Mercedes sat on the tile of her empty high school
hallway, wrapped in the arms of the boy she adored, a profound thought occurred
to her.
Calm is not a feeling, but a person.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
You Matter
Dear Someone,
I am so sorry that your life isn't exactly how you want it right now. I am sorry that you feel lonely, and scared, and frustrated. I am sorry that you feel like you don't matter to anybody. That if you disappeared off the face of the planet no one would care. Because the truth is,
You matter.
You are lovable.
You are kind.
You are special.
You are important.
You are going to change the world.
Because you are you.
Don't let anybody tell you otherwise.
Remember that you are not alone in this endeavor, that there is always someone who cares. Feel free to remove your fake smile and cry to them, even if you feel uncomfortable about it. 9 times out of 10 you will feel better than you did before. I promise.
Remember that you can change the world, and that inspiration comes from the hardest of trials.
Remember to focus on the little things, for they make up who we are.
Remember to pray always.
Remember who you are, because you are pretty freaking amazing.
Remember that you matter, even if the world says otherwise.
Remember that you matter, even if the world says otherwise.
I love you!
Sadie
If you are struggling with anything, feel free to email me at: becauseofbeautifullives@gmail.com.
I will definitely respond. :)
I will definitely respond. :)
Sunday, August 9, 2015
My Beautiful Life: School
Do you ever have nightmares that you are running away from something scary, but no matter how hard or fast you move it still catches up with you? You try to scream, but all the air seems let out of your lungs. Safety, which is right around the corner slips from reach, and slowly you are drawn into the evil claws of your doom.
This is precisely what back to school season feels like.
Okay, okay. I know that I am being a little dramatic (fine, a lot dramatic) but back to school season has always been somewhat of an anxiety trigger for me. The whole concept of organization, finding classes, locker combos, and the dreaded first day of school outfit sends me into a panic mode. Nightmares leak into my normally pleasant dreams, and before you know it, I'm dreaming about forgetting to wear pants the day I have to give a big presentation. Me no likey.
Even when I was young, the terrors of school shook my little brain senseless. The night before the big day I lay awake at night, eyes pried open, for fear of sleeping in too late. Once, I was so nervous that I started dry heaving on my way to the bus stop. Not the best way to start the school year in my humble opinion.
Needless to say, school with anxiety can be a daunting task.
I know a lot of my readers struggle with anxiety, so I compiled a list of things you can do to make the upcoming school year as stress free as possible. Because, who wants to worry about school, when you could be focusing on your beautiful life? Here goes nothing!
1. Buy a planner!
There is nothing worse than realizing you forgot to do your homework. Writing down your assignments due date is imperative to a stress free school year, and good grades!
2. Keep your locker clean.
Nobody wants to rummage through a mount Everest sized pile of papers just to get to their lunch. Keep your personal space clean by getting some locker organizers! Less clutter=Less anxiety.
3. Pack an emergency kit.
You never know when disaster will strike! Keep a sweatshirt to wear over lunchtime spills, ibuprofen for the occasional headache, and Band-Aids!
4. Find your classes.
One of my frequent reoccurring nightmares about school is getting lost on my way to class. In order to prevent an awkward moment, walk through your school beforehand to locate every class you have, and what room its in! Its also very helpful to have your schedule memorized, or keep it up in your locker.
5. Be yourself!
Making new friends can always be a struggle, but you don't have to change your personality to fit someone else's. You won't attract the friends you want by being a whole different person, so just embrace your silliness and be you!
6. Make a Panic Attack kit.
Keep this handy dandy kit in your locker at all times for when a catastrophe happens. Fill it with things that calm you: a reassuring note from a parent, your favorite candy, instructions for calming down, and a comfy jacket!
7. Get plenty of sleep! Drink water! Eat breakfast!
My mom is going to be proud of me for this one. :)
I hope this helps my fellow anxiety prone friends! Happy back to school season!
Any more worries about back to school? Feel free to send me an email! I would be happy to give you some advice! becauseofbeautifullives@gmail.com
Like us on Facebook to get daily updates! https://www.facebook.com/notyourtypicalbeautiful?ref=aymt_homepage_panel
This is precisely what back to school season feels like.
Okay, okay. I know that I am being a little dramatic (fine, a lot dramatic) but back to school season has always been somewhat of an anxiety trigger for me. The whole concept of organization, finding classes, locker combos, and the dreaded first day of school outfit sends me into a panic mode. Nightmares leak into my normally pleasant dreams, and before you know it, I'm dreaming about forgetting to wear pants the day I have to give a big presentation. Me no likey.
Even when I was young, the terrors of school shook my little brain senseless. The night before the big day I lay awake at night, eyes pried open, for fear of sleeping in too late. Once, I was so nervous that I started dry heaving on my way to the bus stop. Not the best way to start the school year in my humble opinion.
Needless to say, school with anxiety can be a daunting task.
I know a lot of my readers struggle with anxiety, so I compiled a list of things you can do to make the upcoming school year as stress free as possible. Because, who wants to worry about school, when you could be focusing on your beautiful life? Here goes nothing!
1. Buy a planner!
There is nothing worse than realizing you forgot to do your homework. Writing down your assignments due date is imperative to a stress free school year, and good grades!
2. Keep your locker clean.
Nobody wants to rummage through a mount Everest sized pile of papers just to get to their lunch. Keep your personal space clean by getting some locker organizers! Less clutter=Less anxiety.
3. Pack an emergency kit.
You never know when disaster will strike! Keep a sweatshirt to wear over lunchtime spills, ibuprofen for the occasional headache, and Band-Aids!
4. Find your classes.
One of my frequent reoccurring nightmares about school is getting lost on my way to class. In order to prevent an awkward moment, walk through your school beforehand to locate every class you have, and what room its in! Its also very helpful to have your schedule memorized, or keep it up in your locker.
5. Be yourself!
Making new friends can always be a struggle, but you don't have to change your personality to fit someone else's. You won't attract the friends you want by being a whole different person, so just embrace your silliness and be you!
6. Make a Panic Attack kit.
Keep this handy dandy kit in your locker at all times for when a catastrophe happens. Fill it with things that calm you: a reassuring note from a parent, your favorite candy, instructions for calming down, and a comfy jacket!
7. Get plenty of sleep! Drink water! Eat breakfast!
My mom is going to be proud of me for this one. :)
I hope this helps my fellow anxiety prone friends! Happy back to school season!
Any more worries about back to school? Feel free to send me an email! I would be happy to give you some advice! becauseofbeautifullives@gmail.com
Like us on Facebook to get daily updates! https://www.facebook.com/notyourtypicalbeautiful?ref=aymt_homepage_panel
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Beyond the Mirror
It doesn't make sense to call our selves ugly if we never have truly seen the way we look.
Some may disagree with my statement, claiming that the mirror gives a perfect reflection,
That its shiny surface shows their outer beauty in a complete and exact way.
But what they don't realize is that the reflection is shallow, and often tainted with sour opinions and insecure thoughts.
No matter how many times a human may glance at their features in a mirror
they will still never understand their true beauty.
It doesn't make sense to call ourselves ugly
because we don't really see ourselves.
We don't see the way our eyes sparkle when we get excited,
or how the smile on our face expands with laughter.
We don't see the stillness of our body as we sleep,
all curled up and silent,
chest steadily rising and falling with peace.
We don't see our eyes as we love,
mouth as we speak,
hands as we serve.
Trust me.
You would know how exquisitely bright and beautiful you are
if you could only see yourself
beyond the mirror.
Monday, July 20, 2015
Adventure Can Be Found In Walmart
The other day I found myself in a predicament that usually bombards teenagers in the summer.
I was bored. Like, really really bored. So much so that I lay on the floor of my bedroom, admiring the patterns in the paint on the ceiling. It was bad.
I am the type of person who loves to go on adventures, and every once in a while I get the uncontrollable urge to go do something exciting. I must go on an adventure. Hence why I went to Walmart looking for some.
Now I know its not like Walmart has jars labelled "excitement" for sale on their shelves (although Nutella is a close second) but, they do have people, and lots of them. So, for my exciting excursion, I decided to do something that scares me out of my mind: confront people I do not know. Earlier that week I had bought some cute thank you cards from Michael's, thinking that I would use them to appreciate my teachers and church leaders. Little did I know that some extreme boredness would lead me to use those cards for people I didnt even know.
Let me tell you, one of the best ways to get your adrenaline rush is by handing out thank you cards to strangers. I walked through the aisles of Walmart aimlessly before I found my first person. It was a woman, presumably middle aged, with a list in her hand of food and supplies she needed to get. I could tell she was a woman on a mission. Walking up to her was the hardest part. My voice cracked, my legs shook, and my heart went at five bajillion miles an hour.
"Excuse me, mam?" I said. She looked up in surprise, and our eyes met. Her face looked tired, resting into melancholy wrinkles by her eyes. Oh yes. This was the person I needed to help.
Quickly I explained that the note was to thank her for being so awesome, and that yes, I did not know her. Before I knew it, I was walking away with a grin on my face and warmth in my heart. I continued to do this for five more people, feeling happier with each one.
There are opportunities everywhere for service, you just have to be willing to look hard enough.
And boy, is it oh so fun!
"Excuse me, mam?" I said. She looked up in surprise, and our eyes met. Her face looked tired, resting into melancholy wrinkles by her eyes. Oh yes. This was the person I needed to help.
Quickly I explained that the note was to thank her for being so awesome, and that yes, I did not know her. Before I knew it, I was walking away with a grin on my face and warmth in my heart. I continued to do this for five more people, feeling happier with each one.
There are opportunities everywhere for service, you just have to be willing to look hard enough.
And boy, is it oh so fun!
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Beauty Is Not Found at the Makeup Counter
There it is, the cosmetics counter. Sometimes it is fun to nonchalantly walk around the pink Barbie like isles, occasionally picking up a new eye shadow palate or lipstick. But today, you are a woman on a mission. Almost as if to prepare for the bombardment of beauty, you lower your eyes to the last shelf nearest the ground, avoiding the airbrushed advertisements up top and dive in. With a swiftness that seems to deserve angelic praise you find it! Huzzah! The mascara! You snatch it up, reveling in your success and heading towards the checkout when- "Hi mam! Is there anything I can do to help you?" You have two choices. You can either avoid looking at the way too charismatic shop assistant so you don't see the ads, or you can act like a sensible person. Decisions, decisions. Before you know it, your eyes are up, and all the images you were hoping to avoid come crashing into your brain. "No thank you." You stutter, and almost gallop to the checkout counter. Defeated, you buy the mascara and go home. That was one crazy adventure.
Okay, so we have all been through that before. Maybe its not quite as dramatic, but still, seeing pictures of Ellen DeGeneres without wrinkles is just plain scary. I mean, the woman is 57 years old! (Sorry, off topic) But the thing is that we don't have to go through that treacherous makeup trip in order to be beautiful. Time and time again I hear people use the words "I need (insert whatever makeup item you wish) to be beautiful" I hate to burst your bubble, but NOPE! You do not need any makeup to be beautiful. Sure, it can make you feel more secure or confident, but your natural self, is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen!
To clarify, I am not saying that makeup is terrible, or offensive in anyway, because honestly I think it is really fun! Just like any girl I enjoy getting gussied up and going out, but I also remember to take days off. Not only is it good for your skin to take a break, but it is also good for your confidence. Once you get used to not having a cake face you will realize how darn good you look without all that goop.
If you think about the process of it all, makeup is immensely strange. Think about it, "I am going to put this black stuff on my eyes, this skin colored paint on my face, and this brown powder in my eyebrows to make me look more attractive." See, its weird.
I guess what I am trying to say is that you don't need all that to be beautiful. Embrace your natural self, and don't care what everybody else thinks! I guarantee you that the world will not stop turning if you take your makeup off. There are much more catastrophic events that could occur.
Love ya!
Sadie
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Mind and Body
We live in a world where words like "retarded" and "OCD" are used as debilitating insults, which are perceived as some sort of funny joke. But the thing is, these "insults" are no way to make a snide comment to a friend. They are real mental illnesses that cause pain, and suffering in individuals all over the world. So why on earth would you want to make fun of it?
Using mental illnesses to insult someone, is almost to the same equivalent of using a physical illness as a jest. You would never say,"Oh my gosh, its like that girl has cancer or something." because
A) Cancer is a very sensitive topic in today's world, so it wouldn't be funny. (Don't be insensitive)
B) Its mean. Don't say mean things. Okay? Okay.
I can understand why it is more common for people to make fun of mental illness instead of physical. Its simple. Physical illness or disease is typically manifested physically whereas mental illness can be hidden, without anyone knowing how much the sufferer is actually suffering.
For example, I have anxiety. But, the people around me only know if I talk about it, or have a panic attack. Other than that, I can hide it fairly well. But if someone is struggling with jaundice it would be clearly evident, because jaundice turns your skin and eyes yellow. (Its not fun.) Anxiety isn't physically manifested. Jaundice is.
One thing I think people don't realize is that when you have a mental illness it can be just as tiring and discouraging as its physical counterpart. Constantly worrying, obsessing over cleanliness, and hating your body takes a lot of energy.
Teasing, insulting, and bullying is not ok in any size, shape, or form. So please stop making fun of mental illnesses, even if you have walked a mile in our shoes.
Rant over.
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