Father’s Day- in my eyes 

There is a lot of good in my life. I have a lot of very nice things. I have a great family. I have a lot I am thankful for.

But there’s a lot missing. 

I wouldn’t wish the void of missing a parent on anyone, not even my worst enemy. 

After my dad died, there’s a lot I missed out on. Or maybe he missed out on, seeing as though it was his decision to leave. I’m still angry about that sometimes. He was so smart and made such a dumb decision. I guess we all make those.

I distinctly remember a time when I was about 14. I was in a Claire’s store, and I noticed a young girl with her big, biker father. It was funny seeing him in such a frilly store. The entire time he helped her pick out earrings and was so happy to do so.

I don’t know why I did, but I approached him and took him aside while his daughter played with the racks. I told him what my dad had done, and how happy I was to see a father interacting with his daughter. It made me happy to see a little girl with a loving father. He actually hugged me, and told me how appreciative he was of my words.

I don’t know why I did that. I don’t know why I felt compelled to tell a stranger such a deep, dark factor of my life. But I did. It makes me so happy knowing that there are little girls out there with fathers that cherish them. I am so happy for those girls. 

They say it gets easier and sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t. 

Due to the decision he made to take his own life, he won’t ever see me graduate college. He wasn’t there for prom. He’s not chasing my boyfriend away. He won’t be there for my wedding. He’s not there. 

I used to tell myself that I would succeed for him, achieve for him, and honor him. I don’t know if I would say that now. 

Everything I have done to succeed has been for me. I have worked so hard to be where I am today, I can’t even imagine dedicating that effort to someone that’s not even here. Maybe that’s harsh… maybe what he did to me was harsher.

Tomorrow will be another day for me, just like next years & the year after that. Each year I’ll feel a little more numb.  Maybe it’ll get easy. Maybe it won’t.

Regardless, I still love my father despite his actions. 

But please, please put your children first. Don’t hurt them the way I was hurt. Don’t make them suffer. 

Don’t leave them behind. 

An Inbetweener 

The ideal beauty standard has changed and shifted and changed again for years. Society has a way of glorifying certain characteristics and shunning others; making the inbetweeners of the world concerned, self-conscious, and unaware of their own potential and beauty. 

I have felt the same way for a long, agonizing period of time. 

Society’s standards attempt to convince young, impressionable people that skin tone, height, and weight were of utmost importance. All I knew was that my milky white complexion and chubby build was not ‘in’ and maybe I never would be, either.

But was that such a bad thing? Why are all women held to a standard much higher than most could attain? If we all looked the same, what would be fresh and exciting about that?

As a 20-year-old living a social media obsessed world, I see it all the time. Beauty is cut-throat. We use social media every day to achieve a look we don’t even have, to impress people we don’t even like, to make us different than who we actually are. 

We’ve become so obsessed with what we ‘should’ look like that we don’t appreciate what we already have. 

We always see people who say they can’t wait to be tan or can’t wait to lose weight or can’t wait to be this or be that. But why? 9/10 times we aren’t doing it for our health, so why are we doing it? 

I’m guilty of doing this not because I thought it would benefit me for the long run, but because I was led to believe I wouldn’t be wanted or likeable or beautiful if I wasn’t.

We can’t possibly be that dense, can we?

When I woke up this morning, I said to myself “Wow, I am really gaining some weight. I look huge in everything I wear,” and thus, I started to panic. 

Then I took a step back and said, “Why the hell do I care?” If for the most part I am healthy and actively trying to stay that way, why does a number on a scale matter? Why does any of that bullshit matter if I’m a good person? A smart person? Someone with more to offer than just a body?

If the process of becoming society’s idea of beautiful is going to make me miserable or unhealthy, then why go through with it? 

Since when did becoming beautiful override being intelligent or kind?

Perhaps I’m not thin or tan or ideal, but maybe I’m better off that way. 

I’ve got a lot more to offer than that. Maybe for the first time in my life I’d like to be praised for my values and accomplishments as opposed to what I look like. Maybe I’ll have bad days and good days and some in between days. Maybe, just maybe, I’m better off this way. 

what it means to be an introvert 

Being an introvert is so much more than preferring to be alone and shying away from social opportunities.

I love being social. I love going out with my friends. Rightfully so, as a college student, I do like to socialize with people I met in college and through work.

However, I very much consider myself to be an introvert and that is not necessarily a bad thing.

As much as I love my friends, after awhile I do get mentally exhausted hanging out with them. This feeling has nothing to do with who they are, of course. It’s just that after awhile, I need to take time to myself and do what I need to do to take care of me. Being social is exhausting for me, regardless of who I am with or how much I love being with them. It just comes with the territory.

I do not find happiness in shallow, meaningless relationships.

Some people can hang out with whoever, whenever and they have a great time. 

If that’s you, that’s great. I’m glad you find happiness doing your own thing. 

For myself, though, these types of “friendships” are dull and again, exhausting. If I can’t rely on you to be a true friend and come to you when I need you the most, we aren’t friends and there is nothing worthwhile going on between us. 

Why drag it out or pretend it’s there when it’s not?

There are days where I could literally not talk to a single person face-to-face and be absolutely fine. It’s nothing personal. I just enjoy doing my own thing whenever I feel like it. 

My anxiety is a huge part of who I am unfortunately, and that’s often why I choose to keep to myself. This doesn’t make me a bad friend or a mean person, I just need more time alone than others might. That’s okay.

I wish I was a person who loved going to parties and meeting new people, but the whole idea scares me. Sometimes I’m socially awkward and though I wish it were easy for me to start conversation, it’s not. It’s not even easy for me to start conversation with my own family sometimes.

Please don’t take it personally when I don’t want to hang out on a whim, sometimes it just takes me longer to prepare myself than others. It sounds dumb, but preparation is a big deal to me. 

I know sometimes introverts may come across as being snobby or mean because of how we are, but please don’t ever take it that way. I would never intentionally be rude to anyone, unless of course they asked for it!

I love my friends. I love my family. I love my boyfriend… but I also love myself, and sometimes I need to come first. 

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