I was fourteen when I attempted suicide the first time. My parents, to this day, don’t believe it. They don’t acknowledge it. And for a long time that stayed with me. They worked too much. No one was there for me. To build into me the idea that I didn’t have to be perfect, that I could acknowledge my broken pieces, that would have meant everything. But no one was there. So I stayed silent. I suffered alone. I disappeared. I was a shallow version of myself for a very long time. It’s taken over a decade to recover. Over a decade to begin to feel whole again. Over a decade to acknowledge that people don’t get to tell me how to feel. They don’t get to determine my story.
There have been a few attempts since then, but most of the time I just think of it. I’ve come up with some very clever ways of how I would do it. It makes me feel like I’m in control. It allows me to hurt a little less to imagine that I can be in control of my own destiny. It feels good to think about when all I feel is numb and question, “Why on earth would I want to continue living this life.”
So, while I am in this place of oblivion, this place where I feel as small as a mouse, I am large. I am often drowning, but I decide if I swim again. I decide to pull myself up and out of the water. I determine my story.
And, you determine yours. Stay strong.
I just made a major cross-country move a few months ago and one of the things I was most excited about was being able to reinvent myself. I had no friends, so I could be who I really wanted to be without the judgement that always held me back at home. However, it seems like all my baggage has just followed me here. I can’t seem to let go of the old me and be who I really want to be. For some reason, feel like I HAVE to be the same scared push-over I was before. Any new person I meet I end up dumping all my issues onto instead of being a new person. I don’t know why, that’s just how it seems. I suppose it’s my OCD raging on, not letting me do the things I want to do. I hate it.
I kinda feel like I’ve missed my shot already, but I know that’s not true. I still have barely gotten to know anyone, there is still time for me to push past my brain and be the real me. I know I can be self-confident, strong, and fun. I just have to let go of the fear of failure and looking stupid. I know I can be enough to accomplish my dreams.
I know I can, I know I can, I know I can.
Xoxo, Cindy 💜
My sister and I were recently reminiscing about some old friends of ours. They were neighbors who went to school with my sister and brother. Somehow, we didn’t really get to know each other until after my brother was taken away, but we bonded over the loss. They didn’t try to “be there for us if we needed it.” There was no “shoulder to cry on.” There was only friendship, and the quiet realization that we all missed somebody. We didn’t need to be saved, we just needed friends.
The tragedy is, I don’t think most people realize that condolences can sound hollow, that “I’m sorry” can be a slap to the face. They want to HELP. They want to feel like they’re doing something, they don’t want to sit around in silence. They mean well, but they don’t understand. Sometimes, you don’t want a solution. Sometimes there IS no solution. With grief especially, there is no magic cure, all you can do is move forward; and the best thing for that is someone to walk with you. No “I’m Sorry”, no “It’s for the best”, just the constant reminder that someone still loves you. In the end, love, that’s all you can do. You love people as best you can and you hope that they find their way back.
This is a song I’ve held near and dear to my heart for years now. I don’t know what it is, but when I’m feeling stuck I will hear Dara’s voice simply saying “you can’t run when you’re holding suitcases…” and it kind of pops in my head very randomly at times, even when I haven’t heard the song in months. I don’t have many ,if any, songs that tend to haunt me like that for so long so I’m trying to figure out why this one keeps coming up. Call it what you like, but I like to call it Divine inspiration.
I have a lot of baggage that I walk around with. It makes my marriage really rough. I’ve never really told anyone this, but my husband’s ex’s kind of haunt me. I’m constantly trying to measure up to them and be better than them even though my husband tells me that I already am and that I don’t even compare to them. But I don’t let his words matter to me, I just continue walking around with the baggage of comparison. I do the same in my career as I’m currently pursuing film acting. I compare myself to every actor I meet and tell myself that they are so much better than me and that I’ll never succeed. The worst part is I feel helpless to change. Everytime I try to let go of the suitcases, I won’t let myself go through with it. I think I choose to hold onto the crappy parts of me because it gives me control over the situation. I want to change, but I honestly don’t know how. But I’m not going to give up!
I want a better life for myself and stronger relationship with my husband. It’s not going to be easy, because nothing worth having ever is, but everyday I wake up and choose to forget about my mistakes and fight for who I really am. I would be lying if I told you that I succeed most days, because the truth is that I feel like I’m always on the losing end of things. But I believe my breakthrough is coming, and maybe yours is, too. Maybe, just maybe, there is a brand new day on the horizon for us tomorrow, and maybe we will get just a little further along on our journey to freedom. That’s what I’m planning on, and I hope you’ll join me.
Xoxo, Cindy 💜
The strongest people are those who have had to pick themselves off the ground. They know what it’s like to be abandoned, left to fend for themselves. Too often we think we need others, that we have to be dependent for strength. But the strength to win your battles comes from within you. Whatever is holding you, whatever war you’re in, you will win. You have the strength to beat even your toughest enemy. 💜
All lives matter.
Hispanic, trans, black, Christian, atheist, unborn, living, gay—All. Lives. Matter.
We are all growing up in a very controversial, judgmental world. It seems like more than often I pull up social media, and the first thing I’m greeted with is hate. At times I look at the way others are treated and I think, “How could that ever be okay? How can you justify that with your religion? With your morals? It doesn’t make sense.”
Despite whether I agree or disagree with how someone chooses to live their life, I still love them. And if they are in a toxic environment, yes, I will say something—but if what they’re doing doesn’t affect anyone in a negative way, and it certainly doesn’t affect me at all, then why bother to judge them for it? It is their life. It is their choices. Their freedom and opinions matter just as much as mine.
Remember the golden rule? — “Treat others how you would want to be treated.” This saying goes far beyond simply being kind to people, or going out of your way to be available or helpful to those in need. Yes, you would want others to assist you in a bind or be pleasant even in an unfavorable circumstance. But there are many ways to create equality in your world that may go completely unnoticed by others. It’s really just about adjusting your views and attitudes.
Instead of just treating others the way you would want to be treated, think about others the way you would want to be thought of. Feel about others the way you would want others to feel about you. Speak to others the way you would want to be spoken to or spoken of.
Today I want to challenge you to love. To be kind. To be fair. And to remember that no matter how highly you see yourself, every single person’s life matters just as much as yours does—and how you treat them speaks highly of your character. 💜
I used to always want an exciting life full of adventure, but as I’ve progressed through my recovery, the more I’ve started to want a calm and peaceful life. Of course everyone wants some adventure at some point in his or her life, but there is no reason to be ashamed of wanting a calm life most of the time. I feel like after everything I’ve been through in my life, all of the craziness and abnormality of it, I would kill to be normal. I would kill to just get married, have a normal job, have a few kids, watch them grow, retire and travel and grow old with my husband. I would kill to live the simplest life imaginable because I know what it’s like to be the worst kind of unique and different. Sometimes I think I’ve had enough action to last my whole life. At other times, I think I would get tired of being normal and eventually want something more. But these are just my thoughts on the subject based on my life experience, it doesn’t have to be your opinion, too. That’s what’s so cool about individuality; we all get to be whatever we want and lead whatever kind of life we want. If you want to be adventurous; if you want to be normal; if you want to be extraordinary…then just…be. 💜