I was really angry the last time I blogged — I even cried afterwards with my door closed, because I didn’t want to upset my niece or worry anyone — and it did help to express some of the anger I still battle with. But I also looked at it later and realised that while my anger may never leave me, it doesn’t define me, and I wanted to write more positively.

Writing about myself has always been hard for me — am I talking too much? Am I giving too much information? Am I only giving out weird anecdotal facts, rather than anything of substance? Then I found an app — called Gratitude — that used small journal prompts to help with mental health (and gratitude, of course). It gave me the idea to use some journal prompts to answer, rather than providing anything I think to be interesting.

Some of these are from the app itself — which I recommend! There’s no character limit, so making the answers small or big isn’t the actual goal — and some are from around the internet. I’ll credit all sites I’ve used prompts from at the end of the post.

If I fast forwarded to thirty days from now, what would I tell myself?

Be kinder to yourself: you are trying, and that’s all anyone or anything can ask of you.

What music do you listen to, and why?

Jesus, I never should have taken this one, but whatever, I already typed it out: everything besides country? It honestly depends on my mood, and what I’m doing. I like listening to rap, R & B, and pop music when I’m coding or using my computer. If I’m relaxing or just in the mood to listen, I go for all kinds of rock, metal, and folk music. If I’m trying to calm myself down, I’ll pick whole albums, like We Are Not Alone by Breaking Benjamin, or ARTPOP by Lady Gaga. I’ll even throw in an album by Enigma or Moby‘s weird crap.

If you can travel back in time, what do you wish you can tell yourself?

I’ve often thought of this, and I honestly, for a very long time, drew a huge blank. How can I possibly sum up my experiences now for younger me to even grasp? What if I scared younger me into living even less than I did? And I think now I know:

Have fun. Please? Things have happened, and things will happen, but fun isn’t always in demand, and there are times where fun is presented to you temporarily. You will still suffer, and you will mourn, and you will grieve, but have — fucking — FUN. Join your sister at Warp Tour; go fishing with your Dad; paint your nails with your Mom. Tell Matthew you love him and can’t imagine a world that doesn’t have him in it. Tell Alex you love her, too, and that she can confide in you without judgement. Be in the moment when these things happen, and not in your head.

How are you different from others?

My severe lack of confidence or self-esteem mixed in with some pretty killer insight. I’m also a walking lie detector with the hearing range of a hound dog. (Seriously, I can hear really well. It’s incredibly off-putting, and oftentimes overwhelming.) Let me put it this way: while IN A PSYCH UNIT, I was considered “high functioning”, and was consistently complimented on my foresight, intuition, and listening ability. All greats things to hear, but maybe not in a psych unit?

What can you not imagine living without?

Other than my loved ones — duh — I’d say my animals. They’re one of the only species that gives unconditional love and doesn’t care that you’re a hot mess. In my experience, their love can almost be unmatched.

What color would you say best describes you? Why do you think so?

I’m known for loving all colors and being difficult when having to choose even less than five. However, if I did have to choose, I’d say pink. I’m calm most of the time — thanks, medication! — and I know my last post did not exemplify this, but I’m slow to get angry. Once I’m there, though, I run that shit into the ground before I’m ready to move on. I use weed and anti-anxiety medication simultaneously because if I don’t, I’ll get anxiety attacks that leave me showering in the dark and then never using a light again because in my mentally ill mind, if people can’t see me, I’m not technically there, and for reasons I won’t look at, it makes my anxiety better. And I think that that kind of energy — slow to anger; can cut a bitch with my tongue alone; happy, anxious, hyperactive, and/or high otherwise — says pink. Like a soft pink, maybe between a salmon and bubblegum shade?

When do you feel the happiest and most content?

At my happiest, I have a joint in hand that I’m sharing with my sister, while we watch Detroit Rock City for the 159th time, and we’re drinking a light beer, while eating street corn and corn chips. Bonus points if there’s a heating pad or CBD cream involved.

Credits

64 Journaling Prompts

80 Journaling Prompts

110 Journal Prompts

I love my mother.

I love my mother’s flaws, I love my mother’s quirks, I love my mother.

I love my mother, but sometimes I wonder if I got my sadness and loneliness from her. I’ve seen her draw attention and befriend anyone in a way that’ll always be foreign for me. My mother probably thinks, “why can’t she just try?”, but you see, that’s not a quirk of my mother’s, not noticing how unalike we are, but a flaw: she’ll never accept the differences. I love my mother, and I love her quirks and her flaws.

I love my mother, but I wonder if my mother gave me my anxiety. If stress and anxiety can be hereditary, there’s a good chance she had a part in those particular genetics. I love my mother’s nitpicking, because she’s unaware of the feelings she hurts, and I love that my mother doesn’t change her behaivour based on age: we’re always her children. I love my mother’s overspending, because it’s hard to say no in the face of happiness, when you see her experience it so little.

I love my mother, but I do wonder if the unconditional love I give is given in return. I know my mother loves me, but does my mother love my quirks and flaws? Does she love that I’m so fucking picky about everything I eat, touch, feel, and look at? Does she love that I went from cleaning a whole house to barely being able to do my laundry? Does she love that I’ll never accomplish anything she thought I could?

I love my mother’s quirks, I love my mother’s flaws, I love my mother.