Letter to my future self.

 So, I wrote a letter to myself, that I will get back on graduation. It's kind of personal, which would be why it's under a cut. ouo

Empathy and Failure.

           One of the most amazing definitions of the word “imagination” comes from J.K. Rowling: Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, imagination is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared. Though I fully understand where J.K. is coming from with her definition of imagination, I myself am not very imaginative at all. I suppose this stems from past events in my life that have left me trapped in narrow spaces. It could also be from the fact that I do not empathize with many people outside of my group of friends. Either way, I don’t have a complete grasp on the weight and meaning of her words. To understand why, I had to go on a journey of self-discovery and was amazed at some of the things I realized about myself. 

            First of all, my life has never been great or wonderful or any other happy adjective. My life has been full of tragic events that in turn have made me a much more closed off person. Before I met my best friend, I always felt completely and utterly alone. I felt trapped in this confusing world with nowhere to go and nothing to do – everything felt like it was out of control. Life was happening around me and I was frozen in a daze, filled with nothing but intense anger and pain. There was never anyone around that could empathize with me and put themselves into my situation. I never had that. Sure, I had friends, but nobody ever really came to me and wanted to help me and feel with me. Since then, I was never the same. I refused to open up to people after that and learned to lock my feelings away deep inside of myself. Nobody came to me and I was most certainly not going to go to them. Perhaps this is what started my downfall into failure. 

            Several years later I met my best friend, McKayla. In the years before I met her, I continued to keep myself isolated from others and only opened up to a very select few people. If nobody wanted to help me and be there for me, I didn’t want to be there for anyone else. It was only fair, wasn’t it? People can’t expect someone to give to them when they don’t put any effort forth from the start. It’s simply not logical. Fast forward to my sophomore year of high school, the year I met McKayla. 

            I spent the beginning of that year alone, except for a few friends I had managed to make at Gilbert before the consolidation. McKayla was the one that spoke to me first, and the conversation we had was ultimately what sparked our friendship and helped to build it. After that, she became my best friend. Ever since that day she has been there for me through everything I have had to deal with; the good things, the bad, the sadness, the happiness, she’s been there with me through almost all of it. Actually having someone in your life that empathizes with you and feels what you feel is one of the most incredible feelings in the world. It takes such an incredible amount of weight of off a person’s shoulders to have someone they can share their feelings with without having to worry about being judged. McKayla is this person for me; I can always count on her to empathize with me and share in my situations, and I can experience what she goes through as well. 

            Now for the most important question – how empathetic am I? Honestly, how empathetic I am depends on the person I’m trying to empathize with. I’m part of a small group of friends who I can empathize with very well, and they can do the same with me. I usually don’t go outside of this group unless there is someone else that I really care about, but that’s a very small number of people. Like I said, I am a very closed off and isolated individual, though I’ve been told that I’m simply complex. The fact that I don’t often venture outside of my group shows that I am trapped in narrow spaces, as J.K. Rowling would say. 

            “Choosing to live in narrow spaces leads to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the willfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.” This is one of the most brutally honest things that J.K. Rowling says in her commencement speech. This quote applies to me personally. By choosing to keep myself locked away from others and my feelings buried deep inside, I have trapped myself in these narrow spaces. Narrow spaces are not a healthy place to be; being trapped in these spaces allows the monsters and terrors to overtake us. I am experiencing this currently, though I can’t blame it on anyone else but myself. 

            Being trapped in these narrow spaces, as unhealthy as I may think it to be, is actually both a good and bad thing. You see, there is a spectrum when it comes to empathy. There are those who look at their own problems and see them as being so bad that they couldn’t possibly handle having to feel someone else’s pain and emotions on top of theirs. Then there are those who see their problems as being so bad that they wouldn’t allow themselves to spread that kind of pain to other people. I am somewhere in the middle of this spectrum. I don’t mind empathizing with others, but I hate the thought of spreading my pain to others who, in my opinion, do not deserve to feel this kind of pain. I would never wish it upon anyone. 

            The bad side of being trapped in these narrow spaces is pretty obvious. I have trapped myself in this one group, in this one place. Seldom do I venture out of my group and give or receive empathy. Though I do have people to empathize with now, I am limited in the number of people. This is my own fault; by isolating myself, I trapped myself. There is no one to blame but myself. I know that the responsibility of empathizing with others should be shared, but it is impossible to share with someone who has their feelings and emotions locked away completely. 

            The fact that I have trapped myself in these narrow spaces is one of the biggest failures of my life. I’ve kept my emotions trapped inside for so long that I have trouble letting them out and properly empathizing, which is yet another failure. I know that it is impossible to live without failing at something, but failure to me is unacceptable. I suppose that’s another thing I need to work on – learning to accept failure. Maybe once I learn to do that, I can learn to open myself up and let others feel what I feel.

Patricia Massari

Patricia Massari awoke to the sound of her alarm clock going off, the familiar beeping resounding throughout her bedroom.  It was Tuesday morning. She had had a difficult night, staying up late to study for yet another college test. Her husband, Louis, was already out of bed and standing by the ironing board in the corner of the room. He was ironing her clothes, making sure they were perfect. Sitting up in bed, she smiled at him. “Good morning,” she said, then rose from the bed and picked up a bag off the floor, carrying it off to the bathroom with her. She had a very special reason to be awake so early other than getting ready for work; she was going to take a pregnancy test. The bathroom door closed behind her and she crossed over to the toilet, opening the test with shaky hands and going through the usual procedure that goes along with it. On one hand she wanted to be a mother but at the same time she didn’t. She quite honestly did not know what to feel; both excitement and nervousness radiated through her body.

                The test was laid upon the sink as Patricia waited for the news that could possibly change their lives. Looking down, her eyes locked onto her stomach and she thought about what it would look like with a little bump. What if there was a baby growing inside of her? They were still in college! She had a job and her husband had a job. Adding a baby into the mix would be too much, wouldn’t it? They were only twenty five years old and had only been married for two years. Was it too soon? Several minutes passed before she had the courage to pick the test up and look at the results, but she finally did. The little plus sign caused her breath to catch in her throat. She was pregnant. 

                Tears began pooling in her eyes and she tried to hold them back, but it was no use. She was pregnant. She was going to be a mother. Not bothering to wipe away her tears, Patricia walked back out of the bathroom to break the news to Louis. “Louis,” she began with tears still running down her cheeks, “I’m pregnant.” The words hung in the air as she waited for it to sink in. “What are we going to do, Louis?” Louis stood there in shock, Patricia’s words finally registering in his mind. He was going to be a father.  

                “Trish, don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.” He sounded so sure of this, and that comforted Patricia. Both of them dabbed their tears away and Louis wrapped his arms around his wife, hugging her close to him. “It’s going to be okay,” he repeated, “we’re going to be okay. There’s no doubt that I want this baby and I know you want it too. It’s ours.” Louis was excited, that much was obvious. “I know you’re right, it’s just so much to take in,” Patricia explained before glancing over at the clock. “I’m going to be late for work if I don’t get dressed!” Louis chuckled and picked up her clothes off of the ironing board. “I ironed them for you. Here, go get dressed.”

                Patricia walked back into the bathroom and changed out of her pajamas and into the outfit that Louis had laid out and ironed for her. Rushing back out into the bedroom she grabbed her bag and slipped her shoes on. “I’ll pick up another test on the way to work, just to make sure. I’ll call you once I take it.” Louis kissed his wife goodbye. Patricia made her way out of the front door and began walking the streets to work. She would have just enough time to pick up a test and make it to the office. 

                A few blocks down she walked into a store. After picking up and paying for a pregnancy test, she continued on her way to work, her thoughts racing through her mind. Was she really going to be a mother? That thought alone was enough to both scare and excite her. Would she be a good mother? Would she know what to do? Would her child grow up, happy and healthy? 

                Her mind was a jumbled up place by the time she made it to the North Tower and walked inside. She went to the elevator and settled in for the long ride up to the ninety-eighth floor of the building. People came and went, but she wasn’t paying attention to them. Her mind was still racing. She wanted the baby, if she really was pregnant, but was she ready for something like that? Was she ready to be responsible for another person? Anticipation was making her nervous as she finally made it to the correct floor and stepped off of the elevator and into the office where she worked. 

Marsh & McLennan had become a second home to her. She was a capital analyst for the firm and she loved what she did. Patricia waved at some of the other workers and made her way over to the restroom; her hands were shaking as she reached into her bag and pulled out the second pregnancy test. Her whole body was wracked with nerves and it was apparent on her face that she was scared. This test would let her know for sure if she was expecting or not. 

She walked into a stall and hung her bag on the back of the door before taking the second test, going through the same procedure once more. Now if she could just wait five minutes…. Those five minutes were the longest five minutes of her life. Fingers still shaking, she picked up the test and glanced down at the little window on it. Another little plus sign had appeared. She was definitely pregnant. She was sure of it now. This time she didn’t cry; a smile appeared on her lips and her hand dropped instinctively to her stomach to rest on it. Her baby was in there. 

She walked back out of the restroom and over to her desk. According to the clock on the wall it was 8:42 a.m. Perfect! Louis would still be at home, she realized, as she dialed her home number. As soon as she heard him answer, she began speaking, happily gushing about the news.  

“I’m pregnant! We’re pregnant! We’re having a baby!” There was no denying her happiness now. “

“We’re pregnant? You’re positive?”

“Yes!” Patricia happily exclaimed, grinning ear to ear.

“Oh Patricia, we’re going to be so happy, just you and me and the baby,” Louis replied.

“I know we will be,” Patricia said, but her train of thought was cut short. 

It was 8:46 a.m. Something in the background caught Patricia’s attention. It was a sound that did not belong. 

One of her hands was laid on her stomach, protectively.  The sound of an engine humming echoed in the distance. It was moving closer. “Oh… My… God-“ The line went dead. It was in that exact second that the first plane crashed into the tower. 

One final breath escaped her lips. Her heart beat one final time. Her hand never left her stomach as the floor fell in beneath her.

Inspiration...

Inspiration is defined as being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially something creative. To me, inspiration is something that makes you feel something or makes you want to do something. Almost anything can be inspirational, depending on the person being inspired and what they like. Words can be inspirational. Music can be inspirational. People can be inspiration. Inspiration is all around us, and it is our choice to let it inspire us or not. 

          One of the most inspirational things in my life is words. Words can have a huge impact on a person, depending on the tone in which they are said or written. To a writer like me, words can make you feel. They convey the emotions of the writer or speaker, and you start to feel their emotions inside of yourself. Words inspire me to write as well. When I see really good, powerful writing, it makes me want to take my writing to that next level and be just as good as the writer who wrote them. Words of joy make me yearn for happiness and fun times, and words of sadness make me remember all the sad times I have encountered in my life. Words speak to my soul; I can take them in for all of their worth and power and understand the true meaning behind them and exactly what they will inspire me to do. It’s an amazing process and feeling and I love every minute of it.

          Another thing that really inspires me is happy people. When I see people who are happy and smiling and seem carefree, I yearn for what they have. I want that kind of happiness and tranquility for myself. Their happiness inspires me to push myself toward my own happiness. It makes me reflect on all of the sadness and negativity in my life and it makes me see that I deserve better than that. I deserve to be happy, and the only person that can really make me happy is me. Their happiness inspires me to be happy and to spread my happiness to others as they spread theirs to me. They make me want to wake up happy and appreciative of life, and that’s something I’d never really wanted before. 

          Broken people also inspire me, as horrible as that sounds. You see, I myself was broken at one time, so I know what it feels like. I know how it is to feel like you’re shattered into tiny pieces and like nobody really even cares about you. I’ve been through some horrible things, and I don’t want anyone to have to feel the things I’ve felt. Broken people, or people who feel like they’re broken, inspire me to be a better person. They inspire me to help them and be for them, because they truly need someone to care. They make me want to help them and heal them to the best of my abilities. 

          Music is another thing that I find to be really inspirational. A lot of the music that I listen to has inspirational lyrics, surprisingly enough. Music also speaks to my soul the way words do, so I guess the two of them would go hand in hand in my situation. I listen to bands that have music that inspires me to do something, like be happy or work toward being the best that I can be, or even to just learn to let go. Music is such an amazing thing, and there are certain lyrics that when you hear them, you just know that you want what they say and you’re so mentally stimulated by them. Lyrics like “Somehow everything's going to fall right into place, if we only had a way to make it all fall faster every day," from Hallelujah by Paramore, inspire me to have hope and believe that somehow everything will fall into place and to stop worrying so much. Art inspires me as well. Seeing art, good art, makes me want to be more creative. It makes me want to push myself and see what I can do and what I’m capable of doing.

          Some of the most inspirational people in my life are my best friends. Truthfully, I haven’t known most of them very long but it feels like I have. They are all such honest, caring, trustworthy people. They’re all amazing people and they have always been there for me through everything I’ve went through since I met them last school year. It’s people like this that inspire me – those who put others’ needs and feelings before their own. My best friends inspire me to be a better friend myself. They inspire me to be more like them, to be more caring and to always be there for me like they’ve been for me. They also inspire me to go for whatever I want and to take risks, because life really is short. Everything they have been for me, I am inspired to be for them. I am inspired to be a better version of myself and do for them what they have done for me. I love them all dearly, and I thank them for making me want to be a better person.

          The most interesting thing that I draw inspiration from is my past. This may sound dumb, but I look back on my past a lot and I’ve realized that I never want to be like I was or go through any of those horrible things ever again. My past inspires me to work toward a better future for myself. It makes me want to break away from all of the sadness and negativity and pain I’ve felt and go toward happiness. It makes me want to push myself in the right direction instead of letting life knock me down. It makes me want to be a better, happier person and try to appreciate my life now and everyone that’s in it. Looking back makes me see that my life really isn’t as bad as I think it is, and that inspires me to make sure I always remember that and work toward making it even better.

Depression...

 **Trigger Warning**