50 Shades of the Good, the Flawed, and The Evil

Take a moment and think about the current state of the world. How does it make you feel? What’s your view of everything going on right now? Regardless of the chaos and cheer, the world will never become what we individually desire it to be, so the task at hand relies on our perspective of it all. Is the world good, bad, just majorly flawed, or pure evil?

In my previous post, I stated that humans are various shades of evil and good.

So I have to ask, what’s your definition of a good person? Is it when the balance of good triumphs the not-so-good characteristics and wrongdoings of an antagonist? But, what makes someone bad but not evil? And… When it comes to pure evil, is it always unforgivable? In the situation of these judgements of others, do we all have a valid and justified pass to make such criticisms? Perhaps so, perhaps not, but we’re all biologically wired to participate in this sense of awareness and perception of our surroundings.

And when it comes to our surroundings, is the grass greener on the other side or where we water it? One of my countless flaws is that I focus and magnify on other people’s flaws so much that it becomes difficult to trust. Another challenge for me is to try to see the good in those who have shown me their not-so-good moments. Of course, it’s as clear as a cloudless day that I’m being hypocritical here because I have numerous flaws but I can’t seem to accept others’ negative characteristics. I’m not looking for perfection, as I’m far from it myself, but I am, however, searching for that balance. The balance of taking in and accepting the mistakes of former friends while I turn in my shameful and unnecessary pride that was a burden and hinderance to forgiving X, Y, and Z.

Giving up on people was a habit of mine these past years. Looking back at my track record, I have a history of simply letting people go, forgetting that we are all humans, because I kept thinking of their flaws, forgoing their great attributes and genuine souls. Judge me for saying this, but… I’m not a fan of second chances. I don’t even believe that I deserve second chances with some people. But, maybe, it’s this belief that I tell myself that I’m not worthy of forgiveness from others that it results in me not being able to forgive others.

In high school, I read somewhere that how you view others is a mirror representation of yourself. Now, there are many people whom I love, adore, respect, admire, and can gush about for hours straight. But, there are a dozen more people whom I can rant about, spew out harsh words, and not make one good remark about them, regardless of our history. And I ask why. Is it the way I’ve unconsciously built myself to be or is it because I haven’t learned to let go of such intensive grudges? The only answer I have right now is… I’m 23. I don’t know it all and I have so much, so much to learn and even more mistakes to make.

Being in my early 20’s, I don’t know every lesson in life to live a peaceful life. If I did, I wouldn’t have broken relationships, lost ties, and painful silences when I’m around X, Y, and Z. A year or two ago, I would have said that I hold onto grudges as if it’s a rare lifetime achievement. But it’s not. It’s draining. Life is better when we all get along and have our spirits dance in a sparkling and harmonious manner. And… when it comes to the judgement of our inner beings and souls, aren’t we all just mixtures of being good, heavily flawed, and a little twisted bit of evil?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: As flawed as I am, I wanted to sprinkle some goodness onto this post by wishing Kim a very Happy Birthday. I’m jittery and anxious as I type this out right now, but, you know what? Life stops for no one! And I have no intentions of following negative thoughts this year in 2018 and so forth. If I wanted to be comfortable and stagnant, I would do nothing. I wouldn’t even publish this post. But if I want to be a better me, I will write what I feel and showcase it to the world. Thank you for reading. X – Lynn

Fitting In

One embarrassing struggle of mine is when I try to fit into a pair of jeans that no longer fit me when they were a perfect fit on me a few seasons ago. There’s the physical aspect of me not being able to breathe in the black high-waisted denim and the visual proof that comes in the form of a muffin top. But, in this superficial situation, I can simply remove my pants, put on my sweats, and call it a day. Even at the mall, I can try on a bunch of ill-fitting jeans just so I can deny my weight gain in front of a mirror and a sales associate just to be proven 20 pounds wrong. But, clothes are just clothes and can always be altered to fit, and if you’re not stubborn like me, you can just get the next size up.

But when it comes to emotional situations of feeling like you don’t fit in – that you don’t belong somewhere or anywhere –  what’s the solution to finding that “perfect fit”? Is there a perfect fit for everyone? And if there is, do we all get to be lucky enough to find that space? As social creatures, humans belong with other humans. No matter how independent anyone is, I think that we all need to connect with others in some quantity and form. And as creatures of habit, creating a routine consisting of people and places seems to be the first step of many to finding that “perfect fit”.

In college, I felt that I fit in Southern California because I had a routine. I knew exactly when my classes started and ended, when my exams were coming up, and when I had work. I knew I had people to talk to, friends to hang out with, and definite and concrete plans for the next week and month. But moving back home, it all seems up in the air. At the moment, I’m grasping for some kind of solidification that I have a space in Sacramento. What are the pieces that I can hold onto to feel a sense of security and belonging? Or should I not commit and attach myself to people and places because I know I’m going to leave?

Going back to Southern California brings a spectrum of emotions: excitement, wonder, hope, but also nervousness. I haven’t been in my friends’ lives for so long I question if I even belong in it anymore. Yes, you can call me insecure because I am. Like I said earlier, humans are creatures of habit, and once you leave their life, they will eventually be able to get over it, and close that gap where you once belonged or fill it with someone or something else. Sometimes, I wonder, since I’ve been gone so long that, perhaps, should I stay gone? Maybe I should stay in Sacramento? These thoughts and questions stem from my insecurity. They’re notions I shouldn’t succumb to due to my lack of validity in other people’s lives.

But what I forget is that I shouldn’t live by the worries of my anxiety, but live to step out of my comfort zone, and do what I need to do, no matter how frightening or friendless my journey may be. Now, I’m not saying I have absolutely no friends, I’m stating we must be brave enough to do things alone, even when it is intimidating and the results are unknown and unpredictable.

When it comes to clothes, comfort is key. But when it comes to life, the key is having the courage to do what is uncomfortable and unfamiliar. And so the famous quote by Neale Donald Walsch goes, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”

Why Are You Angry?

Looking back on 2017, I am unimpressed. Majority of it has to do with myself and of course, the tragic events that occurred across the world that was out of my control. Disappointment barely scratches the surface of the reflection I have of last year. Self reflection is like trying to swim in murky water because I really don’t know where I’m headed. Am I going to dive into a dark and cold space of hating myself and not finding any treasures or does the water clear up because I realize that it’s all about positive perspective?

On the first day of 2018, I asked one of my friends, CT, what she was going to be working on this year. She mentioned inner happiness and fueling her creative soul. I noted that I need to work on my anger issues and my temper. Even typing out the word “temper” shocks me because most of my life, I rarely got angry and never described myself as someone with anger issues. But in college, I found myself lashing out at others, unable to handle this alien emotion of “anger”, and never focused on repairing the situation, only putting a band-aid on a wound that needed to be dissected deeply in order to be understood.

Therapy is expensive and until I have the proper answers from professionals, I can only assume and guess what is triggering my anger. I would love to put the blame on my stepdad, but to what extent can I point the finger at him and for how much longer? Not taking responsibility for my mistakes and episodes means I’ll continue to run amok, not caring about repercussions, even though I see the damage. Labelling myself as somewhat of a villain is justified because in my perspective, I know what I’m doing, I know it’s not right, but I do it anyway. I believe that humans are various shades of evil and good, but my behavior has been reckless and red with anger.

I could blame it on stress and explain that my bouts of anger is a form of letting out excessive negative energy. But what makes my stress unique and an excuse to be nasty to others? There is no excuse. Being cruel to myself is one thing, but being cruel to others is another. So this year, I will work on being kinder, less impulsive, and less reactive. My friend, CT, said not everything deserves a reaction and I shouldn’t waste my time and energy on every incident that upsets me. While I believe life is short and I shouldn’t refrain myself from speaking upon issues I feel passionate about… at the same time, life is too short to be spending it angry at the world.

“Anger is a manifestation of a deeper issue… and that, for me, is based on insecurity, self-esteem and loneliness.” – Naomi Campbell

“Speak when you are angry – and you’ll make the best speech you’ll ever regret.” – Laurence J. Peter

“For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Let’s Reflect: 2017

Wow.

That’s all I can say, sarcastically and literally. 2017… was not what I expected it to be. And this shall be a raw post – so no massive editing and no overthinking over many weeks and months on a post. I will post this as is. So expect many grammar AND spelling mistakes and a tangent from my usual choice of “fancy” words, hah. 2017 went by so fast and furious but not in the way I wanted it to be. Setting expectations for myself that I didn’t meet – and being the hardest critic I know – I know that no one was more disappointed in myself than, well, myself.

In the Spring, I was enrolled in community college, but out of anxiety, I dropped the class and fell into a depression. I will be honest, as I should be, as we all should be, I wanted to die. I wanted to not be alive. I wanted to see black. I felt so much darkness and it almost consumed me to death. Moving back home was one of the reasons why I wasn’t as happy as I used to be in Southern California, seeing my stepdad constantly, and not finding a full-time job really hurt my self-esteem and made me question my self-worth. I judged myself in such a harsh manner that I mentally could not handle it. I hated myself. If anyone in 2017 said they hated me, trust me, I hate myself enough for the both of us. Maybe three times more.

I honestly did not want to write a reflection post for 2017. Why? Because I felt – at the time – that I had nothing remarkable to comment on. I still don’t have a full-time job, I’m more insecure than ever with my body and self-esteem, and not meeting the goals I set for myself. But after hearing about a certain YouTuber’s video in the Suicide Forest of Japan, this thought ran across my mind: my little sisters saved me from myself, my depression, and they made me want to live.

Moving back home wasn’t glamorous nor was it the funnest thing that ever occured in my life. I felt like the amount of friends I had diminished and I felt incredibly alone. In SoCal, I wasn’t alone. At least, I didn’t feel alone. In Sacramento, feeling alone was an emotion I feared and hated. Why? because it got to me. Because I believed it. Because i wwasn’t strong enough to power through and keep myself positive. But those times I felt alone – 90% of it was when I was alone in my room, in my bed, before I fell asleep, so it was the devilishly perfect recipe for the loneliness to hit and hurt me.

But what made me not want to be dead was the times my little sisters unconciously made me feel alive. Whenever they cracked a joke, I laughed and felt a spark I hadn’t in a while. When they said something cute or drew me something, I felt… appreciated and noticed. That kept me pushing. I wanted to spoil and thank my little sisters and I couldn’t do that if I committed suicide. My little sisters are my role models. They are smarter than me, taller than me, and have better skin than me, hahaha. And to be their big sister, to have that responsibility, it made me feel like I had a purpose. Before I moved home, my little sisters didn’t really get along with each other and they seemed like strangers. I noticed how everyone had dinner at different times and in different spaces of our house. Now, we all eat dinner together and laugh together. My little sister, Lucy, surprisingly sits in the back of my car with my other two little sisters when we go to Target or get boba.

So. So what if I haven’t landed the full-time job with health benefits and a 401k that I’ve been covetting and chasing ever since I graduated college? So what if I’ve gained 20 unhealthy pounds and feel insecure about my body? So what. SO WHAT. It wouldn’t even matter if i had a full-time job if I was depressed and about to kill myself. I’ve been depressed many times before when I was skinny. So what is this random, unprofessional, not put together post all about? 2017 had a lot of down falls, negativity, and not so fun times that I could dwell on. But that is NOT what this blog, website, track of my written word, whatever this is, is about. This is about GROWTH. This is about looking at the POSITIVES. In 2017, I didn’t give into the darkness. In 2017, my mom and I went to the gym together for the first time ever. In 2017, I made new friends. In 2017, I didn’t dip into my savings account at all. In 2017, I chose to live. And I hope I continue to do so in 2018. and 2019. and so on. Because life is worth living. And I have my little sisters to thank for that and so much more.

So to Lucy, Lily, and Lina – I love you. Happy New Year, everyone!