Quiet Nights

Stone Arches and Solitude

It’s the weekend!  Well, it is for me at least.  My favorite parts of the week are when I can stay up late knowing that I can sleep in as long as I want the next day.  Admittedly, this is probably the main reason I have such a weird sleep schedule.  Consistency isn’t really a word in my life dictionary.  This is something that I’m planning to work on.  As fun as it is to spend all night reading, doing crafts, or watching TV, there’s no denying that it has a negative impact on the rest of my week.

I tend to get my energy from soda and coffee during the work week instead of from having a good eight hours of sleep.  It may sound silly at my age to just be coming to the realization that my parents tried to set a bedtime for me growing up for a good reason.  My goal for the rest of the week, therefore, is to catch some z’s.  In a healthy way.

I’m taking baby steps.  I’ve been thinking for a while that being an adult is far more than just an age number.  It requires a different mindset.  Not that I’m running around like a teenager, but I’m certainly not running around like a responsible adult either.  I’ll get there.  Starting with getting to bed by 10:30 pm (when my work schedule allows it) and waking up at 6:00 am.  If my parents (who are in their fifties) can get up at the crack of dawn every day, then so can I.  As I recall, they also get to bed at around 10 pm.

Below is a collection of a few of my journals.  I threw them in quotes in the caption because I don’t actually use them for journaling.  There’s just something about a beautiful empty book that makes me want to buy it.  Maybe one day I’ll fill them with something.  It’s far more likely that they’ll get passed on to any kids I might have to do with as they will.  What can I say?  Some people have too many cats, I have too many journals 🙂

Day Four: A portion of my “journal” collection.

Clocked Out and Unharmed

Desert Lake

Finally made it home from work and I’m happy to say that I am in one piece.  I had a minor mishap falling off a ladder while trying to get a balloon off the ceiling.  Fortunately I didn’t break anything, but I can already tell that I’m going to be more than a little sore tomorrow.  Which is why this post is going to be pretty short.  I’m going to take a long hot bath to try and loosen up my muscles before I go to bed.  My shoulder and neck already ache like mad, so.

My happy, beautiful thing for the day are the roses I bought for my mom.  They bloomed out perfectly and on time for Mother’s Day, so I was able to give them to her at the perfect time.

Day Three: Yellow Roses for Mother’s Day

A Little About Me

Falling to Ruin

I’m a twenty-five year-old woman.  I live in student housing.  No, I’m not studying for a master’s program or trying to get my Ph.D.  I’m going back to school for a Bachelor’s degree.  For the third time.  What this means, in a nutshell, is that I’ve failed out of college twice already.  It’s looking like I’m going for a third time.  I tell people that I took a break to work so that I could pay for school myself.  While it is true that my parents have put five children through college, it isn’t true that I took a break out of any altruistic ideation of paying for school myself.  The truth is that I’m a perpetual failure.

People might say, “Don’t look down on yourself,” or “That kind of attitude is what’s causing you to fail/be depressed.”  If I were the kind of person who could say what I truly think of comments like this, I’d say, “Don’t be stupid.  I’m not depressed because I’m overly pessimistic.  I’m telling you the truth the way I see it, not begging for sympathy.”  One of the side-effects of my depression is that when I’m doing fairly okay, I have the ability to be brutally honest with myself.  This is more constructive for me than one might think.  Here’s the difference between my inner monologue when I’m having a good day and when I’m having a bad day.

Good day: I’m not where I want to be in life.  So far has been a long string of failures.  Here are some of the ways that I think or have thought I have failed.  Hindsight shows me that A, B, and F weren’t failures on my part so much as they were accidents or unavoidable setbacks.  C, D, and E were failures on my part.  Here is why I think I failed.  Here is what I can do to make it better.

See?  Realistic.  Constructive.  On my good days, I’m analytic, not apologetic.  To paraphrase, I get stuff done.

Bad day:  I’m not where I want to be in life.  Nothing I do will ever result in anything good.  I’m a disappointment to my family.  It might hurt for a little bit, but they’ll be better off without me in the long run.

The thing is, even on bad days I know what I’m thinking and feeling isn’t true.  I know that I won’t feel the same way in a few hours or a few days, depending.  I still have my logical me running somewhere in the background, but sometimes I can’t hear it all that well.  Which is why I’m still kicking along.  Still trying to get that undergraduate degree.  Still trying to make something out of my life.  Because I’m not hopeless.  I have dreams and aspirations.  I have things to do and goals to achieve.   I have great things that I hope I’ll get to do with my life.  One day,  I might even get to show you those things.  Because it isn’t over yet.


Day Two: Green tea in the morning


One Beauteous Thing

Desert Landscape

Photo Credit goes to my Grandma, may she rest in peace.  My Grandma took pictures everywhere she went.  Of everything.  I’m not exaggerating about that, either.  You’ll see what I mean eventually.  She always had a disposable camera with her.  Grandpa and I picked out a digital one for her on her birthday one year, but she never got used to it.  She used it a few times and then it was back to the good old disposable.  The other thing about my Grandma was that she never threw out a photo.  Even if it came out too dark, or blurry, or overexposed.  Everything was wonderful to her.  She kept them all.

She passed away not too long ago and I got to keep a lot of those photos.  Not the ones with people in them–those went to her daughters to sort through–but all the others.  I’m going to be posting one of those a day from now on.  I’ll also be posting one thing a day that I find beautiful.

That’s all I’m looking for.  Just one beautiful thing that’ll make life seem like its worth living.  If I can find one thing every day that is beautiful to me, or that makes me smile, I’ll stick around.  I have a lot of anxiety and I’ve been dealing with Major Depressive Disorder since I was fourteen.  My goal in life is to not kill myself before my parents die.  My dad made me promise that he wouldn’t have to bury me.

I’ve been struggling with that promise for the past week or so.  It comes and goes.  Sometimes I’m almost fine.  Sometimes traffic looks really friendly.

Long story short, I’ve got this box that’s full of my Grandma’s pictures.  There’s around five or six years worth of them if I spread them out one a day.  I’ll be posting one of hers, and one of mine.  One thing every day that’s worth it to me.  If I don’t just stumble across it, I have to go out and look for that thing.  Forgive my crappy photography skills.  I’m doing the best that I can.

Day One: Moon at Sunrise