On the first night of my Seattle trip, as my boyfriend and I were driving down the streets of Bellevue, Washington, I commented, “You know… Seattle is becoming more and more foreign to me everytime I visit.” I felt a tinge of sadness as I said that. To think that Seattle, my so-called 2nd home where I spent my college years (my “developmental” early 20s), was becoming associated with foreignness felt hypocritical. I never thought I would feel this way. So much of who I am today was based around my lifestyle in Seattle. My values and habits are heavily influenced by the Emerald City. I always used to say without a hint of hesitation about how much I loved the city and how much I would love to come back and live there. Then for me to come back and feel like I’m in a foreign place? That was hard to accept even as I said it. Read More
What makes you truly happy? Friends? An exotic vacation? A good book? Laughter of a newborn child?
Great. Because those things make me happy too. But what if those sources of joy were stripped off of you and you were left with just… you? Are you your source of happiness?
This is the question that I had asked myself over and over again, resulting in fake answers each time. I can’t pinpoint exactly when this started, but I had been building a facade of happiness to mask dissatisfaction and flaws in my life. I continued on with such lifestyle because it worked for me for a period of time. But over time, that facade started to crumble with the ever-growing weight of overlooked unhappiness and depression beneath the surface. I was so scared that my imperfections and vulnerabilities would shine like a high beam through the cracks. Helplessness engulfed me because I felt like I was losing control of my mind and life. My sources of joy were falling through beneath my feet. I was terrified. Read More