The Disconnect

I've been having a bit of a messy few weeks and found myself looking for some ways to self improve. The best way to do this, for me at least, is to recognize the problem, and make a change for the better. If you don't know already, the certainty I have in my feelings play a huge part in my decision making. When I'm feeling something, I'm feeling it, and I find it extremely hard to find the disconnect from my head and my heart.

In my previous post, I touched base on how society today has become so dependent on online interactions that we've learned to expect less from actual human interactions. This makes letting go of the past a bit of a question mark for me. I'm strong willed (sometimes mistaken for stubborn), highly observant, and have an intense memory for detail. Hurt me and chances are, I won't forgive it, but am completely open to forgetting it and giving second (or hundredth) chances. 

As we put so much effort into our edited, manicured online versions of ourselves, we forget that there's more to life than documenting it. Sometimes I think we turn to these outlets because we fear loneliness. Sharing a status update or posting uber-cool photos allows us to be heard. It's a creepy perfected online world we've become used to expecting of each other. Pictures are perfect (thank you photoshop and instagram), wording is well-thought out and if you don't like what you've shared, delete it.

The thing is, real life is messy. There is no undo button. It's demanding. It's unfair. It's complicated. But it's the lessons we find from every moment and learn from that makes it worth living. Perhaps it's the company I have chosen to occupy myself with, but so many of these people are afraid of being emotionally available for the fear that it will ruin the facade of who they want people to think they are. What we attempt to control online, we can't control in real life. Erasing old photos and wiping out your list of contacts will not take away the actual memories that lay in your head or heart (unless you're a robot.) Of course we are all afraid of getting hurt, but unfortunately for them I think, I feel (perhaps a little too much so) and I'm completely tangled in my own little web. But it keeps me real.

Pick up the phone, pick up the phone

As a twenty-something girl living in 2012, I could go on and on about the gripes I have with technology and how we have become so dependent on our constant online interactions that we've learned to expect less from actual human interactions. With all the technology attached to our fingertips 24/7, it seems as though there are a million new ways for us to stay in touch. Bbm, Whatsapp, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, texting...with so many connections to so many people, the definition of what is a real vs. photoshopped relationship gets harder and harder to figure out.

I can't tell you how many times I've gotten frustrated over stupid indiscretions with tech stuff. For my fellow crackberry addicts, there's bbm. Ah bbm...being able to read when someone receives and chooses to respond to a message is a gift and a curse. I'm on my Blackberry like a bee on honey (used to be at least...really starting to hate it now.) I'm always prompt to respond to whoever is messaging me, and I can't help but get irritated when people take their sweet ass time responding to simple things. Once you become a master bbm-er, you learn little knick-knacks of how to ignore a message all together, all the whilst reading the entire message without having the other party know (sneaky little assholes...come on now.) On a side note, the only thing worse than an unresponsive read message is when the message doesn't go through at all. Even at that circumstance, people will rather avoid picking up the phone and placing a simple call, instead reiterating the so called valid response of "the message didn't go through so I couldn't get a hold of you." The classic "I didn't check my phone" is also losing its merit. It's 2012, you're probably a proud owner of a Blackberry, iPhone, or Android -- you're checking your phone.

The time spent on perfecting our online personas has now become a definitive interpretation of who you are. We seem to be living in a world where "if it's not online, it's not happening in real life". Sure, a portion of it can be credited towards business and self-promotional purposes, but that doesn't change the fact that living edited online takes away from living in real life. It's amazing, yet pathetic how a picture that suffices on Facebook of the night's festivities or a tweet about how awesome the dinner you are at is makes the online version of yourself more admirable, and feelings of insecurities, envy and rejection arise from viewers who weren't present. This is especially apparent in the dating realm. Yes, guys are generally overly rational and not nearly as emotional as girls tend to be, but if you're proud to be with someone in real life, why wouldn't that translate into your online personality, especially when that's when so many people are exposed to you? Exactly. Spin it however you want, but it comes down to the root of all issues -- commitment, or the lack of really.

I'm clearly going through some communicative frustrations myself, resulting in this lengthy rant. Technology does its part in bringing us together, but it also  stops us from feeling emotions with each other in person, as we share statuses and messages about feelings and (maybe) feel them after. It takes 30 seconds to send a message, and if you don't have 30 seconds for someone...well, that's something we want to know. For all of you reading this who can't understand why we make a fuss over the little things like Facebook, Twitter and bbm, allow me to clear it up for you: it is because we see it as an indicator of bigger things. When you care about someone and they can't seem to do little things for you, it's a sure sign they won't do bigger things for you either. So if you take one thing from my emotional vomit, answer your damn phone.

The Moody Blues

Have you ever had one of those days where you just don't want to get out of bed? Whether it's because you're tired from a busy work week, feeling lazy, or are probably severely hungover based on the events of the night before. We've all had those days, especially when fluffy pillows and freshly scented sheets mixed with an already comfortable bed are involved. Now how about those days where you just can't get out of bed? It's not because you're physically unable to, but rather because it seems pointless. Your bed is no longer a throne of comfort, but a sluggish rock planted in your room that is pulling you into masses of heavy blankets instead of allowing you to breathe fresh air. Whether it's the sudden drop in temperatures or the grey skies, I've been feeling the latter lately, and even to a small degree, I've been asking myself..."am I depressed?"

This isn't a PSA about the signs and treatments for such a disease, but rather a post about how we are prone to experiencing symptoms of it in our own unique way. I will admit that I've experienced bouts of panic, anxiety, and the blues throughout my years (more so in the recent ones). Yes, I'm a highly functioning social person who is, for the most part, a happy person, but also a highly emotional and complicated being who doesn't always have ration and logic. My hypersensitivity leaves it so that I am often bothered by things that shouldn't bother me, and I am at times left to wonder why everyone else seems so fine with things that I just can't seem to get past. I've had days where I feel so weighed down, cannot stop crying, and cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel. While such episodes are usually spurred by emotional reactions to relationship issues or the feeling of loss, they were occurring enough for me to question my own sanity.

Let's not take this too lightly. If you're sitting in bed eating ice cream (or drinking wine) and crying to your girlfriends on the phone about another failed relationship (or the same failed relationship), you're not depressed. If you're down on yourself and take the night to recuperate alone because you feel like the rest of the world doesn't understand you, you're not depressed. And if you're worried that your life is going nowhere because other people your age seem to have secured a great job and their own swanky condo while you are still living with your parents, you're not depressed. Like all decades, our twenties have trials and tribulations, but it's only if they affect you deep down where ice cream and a night in can't solve, and you can't function on a day to day level...that's when you should perhaps seek help.

Issues that occur in our head-space are hard to acknowledge and at times even harder to reach out and get help for. Nothing is more frustrating than trying to convince someone of your feelings and being dismissed as "too emotional". What I do know is that the people who tell you to simply "get over it" probably haven't experienced it themselves. I trust my instinct and know when I'm feeling something, I'm feeling it and no amount of partying or other distractions will take my mind off of it. Although partying sure does help sometimes. However, what I've been trying to do is recognize when a blue episode is on its way. When I see a warning sign pop up, I become proactive in reversing them. Whether it be through talking to a friend, working out, or getting out of my own thoughts by keeping busy (school helps), it all helps to hopefully avoid the downfall all together. So my point of this somewhat somber post is that the moody blues have a tendency to hit even the best and brightest of us. Dealing with it, no matter how mild or severe is up to you. Now let's stay cheery on this gloomy Sunday afternoon!