The Thankful Project Day 6: Planners

To step away for a day from the ultimately cheesy sounding thankful posts, I’m just going to dedicate this post to planners.

Yes, those things that organize your day and tell you what to do.

I use my planner for everything. I write down my work schedule (even though it’s a normal work schedule), I write down when I’m going to the gym, when my appointments are, and to be honest, it reminds me what date it is.

It makes the days look way more conquerable, and like anything is possible. And it’s true. When you write something down, not only does it make you remember it more, but it gives you a sense of purpose. That’s why to-do lists are such a big deal for some people.

A planner is like a giant to-do list that is portable and easily viewable. And, for those of you who are super creative, there is such a thing as a bullet journal now.

And these things are even cooler. All you need are super fun pens (which are sometimes even cooler than planners), and the will to decorate your own planner. It sounds like more work than it’s worth, but it’s actually pretty relaxing, and you have a completely customizable planner all for yourself.

And, to allow the cheesiness to come back in for just a second, planners help me when my depression gets extremely bad. They help me see that my day isn’t as busy as it feels like it is. It makes hours seem less daunting. Planners overall help me feel more in check and organized.

And that’s why I’m so thankful for planners.

What are you thankful for?

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Make Me A Priority, Please.

About six months ago, I wrote this article about why I’m tired of making my friends priorities in my life when I’m not one in their’s. And this is something I’m still struggling with.

Why? I’ll tell you.

When someone texts me first, I’m guaranteed to answer you within the hour. Partially because I hate seeing the red 1 on phone signaling an unread notification and also because I’m polite. Unless I’m at work, you’re getting an answer to your text message. But either way, you’re going to hear back from me.

We’re millennials. We always have our phones. Whether they’re in our pockets, on the desk beside us, in our bags, on our minds. We’re constantly snapping our friends, commenting on memes on Facebook. There is no way messages are going unseen, unnoticed unless you’re really trying. 

At least have the decency to say no.

It makes me feel like I am not worthy of your friendship. It makes me feel like I’m not worthy of anything. Am I not worthy of your friendship? Am I not worthy of a courtesy text back? Do you know how bad it makes me feel about myself when I never hear from you?

It’s taken me long enough to figure out how to like myself at all. I don’t need you making me feel like I can’t love myself. Like I’m not worth it or like I’m not worthy of someone caring about me as much as I care about them.

I shouldn’t have to put more effort into my relationships than everyone else. I shouldn’t have to wait for text messages about plans or feel shitty when you cancel last minute. I shouldn’t have to contemplate whether or not I should text you just to say okay fine nevermind, forget it. 

Just try, please try to make me feel like a priority too. Please try to make me feel worthy of your friendship, of our relationship, of myself. Please just try to make me feel worth it – life, love, etc.

I’m tired of ranting about this to other friends. I’m tired of trying to understand why you never answer or why you never want to see me. I’m tired of making excuses for your bad behavior and your last minute cancelled plans. I’m just tired.

So I’m done.

In all the time it took me to realize this, I finally started to like myself again. I’m done ranting about this, hating myself, getting angry about never hearing from you. I’m just done.

I think this blogpost is a goodbye. It’s a see you later – but I won’t be the one making the plans.

Metaphorical Misery

I wrote this poem in the span of just moments – something that rarely happens. And why? Because someone was trying to save me from my depression and anxiety. I write about my depression often, but never have I written about it like this. There is no story to this poem – just expression. 

they romanticize it –
call it van gogh cuttin’ off his ear
then paintin’ healthy
green wheatfields underneath upset skies –
say it’s the last autumn leaf fallin’
to the damp grass because
everything must fall before
being reborn better –
claim it’s bees seekin’ flowers in your garden
only to create crystallized honey
so sweet rotten

they call it beautiful like –
give it a poetic name
and it’ll be good enough
when you swaddle yourself in your grey duvet
in the dull shuttered morning light

mine is this way –
they use fanciful language and
tear open my body to love
the depression right out of me
they make me a metaphor –
call me persephone beggin’ for freedom –
all exhausted cliche and comparisons
to something i’ll never add up to

when really –
it’s just van gogh in wheatfields
weary leaves being raked
sour honey thrown out and
broken greek myths strangled
in a cloud of existence and
surrender

 

(All copyrights to this poem are mine. Please do not republish or take without permission. This is original work and should not be plagiarised.)

Why We Should Treat Mental Health the Same as Physical Health

I am depressed.

This is not something I try to hide, or shy away from. This is a part of me, something I deal with every day, just like someone putting on glasses, or managing an autoimmune disorder. But people don’t cringe when I tell them I have Celiac Disease. People don’t cringe when I tell them that I just can’t eat gluten.

So then why do people cringe when I tell them I’m depressed? It’s the same thing. Not only am I depressed, but I’m treating it. So why is it a big problem when I tell them that I can’t eat gluten, and I also can’t get out of bed some mornings? At least I can take medications for my depression. I can’t treat my Celiac Disease.

I personally think it’s because depression can be crippling. It does cause me to have to stay in bed some days. It does cause me some trouble most days, even though I am treating it as well as I can.

My Depression rears its ugly head quite often, and it follows me around, trailing Anxiety on a leash.

They both ask me questions all day, begging for my attention, begging for me to treat them as way more important than everything, and everyone, else in my life.

I have to fight Depression and Anxiety every day.

So, arguably, it’s not as normal as putting on glasses. Once people put on glasses, they don’t have to worry about it the rest of the day.

But.

I have to fight not to eat a bagel every day. I have to fight not to go the easy route and eat burritos and pasta and sandwiches every single day. Some days, it’s harder to fight my Celiac Disease than it is to fight my Depression.

Once I’m out of bed, I’ve already won a fight against my depression.

And I can avoid it during the day – I keep myself busy on a tight schedule, I carry around a planner, I have a stress rock in my backpack. It is nearly impossible to avoid gluten though. I have to walk by a bagel place to get to some of my classes. My friends and classmates are constantly (unknowingly) taunting me with their cupcakes and PB&J’s.

If my Celiac Disease is harder for me to cope with than my depression, why is there a mental health stigma? Why isn’t there a stigma around Celiac Disease? Why don’t people cringe when I turn down a piece of their pizza because I don’t want to be sick for the rest of the week?

To me, there is little difference between my Celiac Disease and my depression. I battle with both every day, all day. I fight the urge to stay in bed with the same effort with which I fight the urge to eat a donut. I diligently treat my depression with medication and self-care the same way I treat my Celiac Disease with good eating habits and smart choices.

I’m just curious as to why one makes people cringe, and the other just makes people apologize.

 

Featured Image via Wildgypsypirate