We Don't Stop (Literally)

Driving today, I observed for the umpteenth time how people try to drive forward just a little at stoplights, even when theirs is red. Like their cars creeeeep forward until the light changes to green, however long that may be.

It's such a little thing, but it causes so many problems in the world, because people are not willing to stop, even when they should. How easy is it, objectively speaking, to stop--observe--and continue on as you were? Really? But people give into their instinct to Keep. Going. At. All. Costs.

And it ruins things.

People die because of it.

Assholes in cars kill people everyday because their movement forward in time and space is more important than anything else, even another person's life.

And to think, all of this could have been avoided if people would just slow down every once in a while, just stop every once in a while. If people were more mindful in general and less selfish.

It's all about me, it's all about my journey and my constant motion forward and no one else matters.

^That is your subconscious^

Constant awareness is the key, the key to a better world.

Stopping is the key.

-Randa

It's All About Scale

When Interstellar came out, I saw it in theaters and afterwards cried for 3 hours non stop. I could not figure out why I couldn't stop crying, but a few days afterward, it came to me. The story is about a man who crosses the universe, dimensions, and time to save his daughter. He subsequently saves all of humanity, but really, he did it to save his child. I was crying, because even he, the man who had done all these things, was merely a speck of dust in a universal existence. Unimportant, unremarkable. And if he was that, what did that make me? Someone who thought getting up every morning was difficult. What did that make my friends? My family? Anyone I had ever met?

We were all so small, and I was crying because I knew it, but no one else did.

I was crying because no matter what I or anyone else did, there was no way we were ever going to change that. I was crying because I didn't understand how people could go on living if it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

But a few days ago, I had a conversation with a friend about this. He said that on a Macro scale, no one, not even the earth, really mattered. Perhaps our universe didn't even matter. Perhaps our universe was a speck of dust in a giant's eye that no one gave a crap about. And the cells that make up our bodies are ridiculously small, and they don't matter singularly to us either. But right here, right now, in my scale, I was important to the people around me. They were important to me too, and if I were to perish or they were to perish, there would be lasting effects on those who had been around on my level, who witnessed my existence.

And that made me feel so much better.

-Randa

The "We" In Me

Sometimes, in my alone time when I talk to myself, I find that I refer to myself as "we". As more than a singular. But I understand that the sum of the "we" is "Randa", and that in addressing myself as we, I am merely recognizing my different facets. They are not defined or distinct parts of my personality that work against each other, merely my different dispositions.

This is getting kind of complicated, so hopefully I haven't lost you but if I have, we're about to delve deeper, so hold on to your butts.

I recognize that I have two, perhaps three, different "Randa" voices in my mind. They are all me, but one of them is overly zealous, confident, and reckless. One of them is so cripplingly dependent on making others happy that self sacrifice is a constant, a daily. The third is neutral about almost everything, objective and unfeeling in a lot of instances. These three dispositions are on a constant revolve, and depending on who I am with or what I am doing, one of them is always dominant, almost drowning out the other two.

But when I find myself alone, they are all at equilibrium. Three equal parts. So I think about things and consult all three of my dispositions. There is always tension, of course, because the difference in the three of them means that when I'm thinking about possible solutions, a part of me always rejects every one. There is always some form of resistance from the reckless side or my people-pleaser side. But these are the moments when I feel the most concrete about my choices, because I have weighed all the possible options against myself and, in the silence, come to a conclusion.

It's not crazy, if you don't understand. I'm not crazy, either. I am just different from you, and that's all right.

-Randa

Free As My Hair

I cut off all of my hair on October 17th, 2015. I had wanted to take the plunge for years, but had been held back by a few things:

1) My hair grows incredibly slow so if I didn't like my hair being short, I would live in torment for literally years before my hair returned to its former state. To be honest, I wasn't too worried about this one, I knew I would love my short hair even if I had to make myself.

2) My identity. Which was linked to my hair and had been linked to my hair since birth. The last time I had hair as short as I wanted to cut it now was when I was two years old. I'm twenty now. That's eighteen years of an identity formed around long hair.
         As a woman, I was worried I wouldn't be found attractive, or even worth the time of men if I cut off all my hair. Since I was a child, people had been telling me how much they loved my long hair, so I didn't know how they would respond if I cut it all off. All the ads aimed at my demographic featured women with long hair. It was the feminine ideal society had pushed upon me.

But then I realized none of that mattered. If anything, that was the reason why I needed to cut off all of my hair. Not knowing made it more imperative. I needed to know who I was without this core piece of my identity, this crutch I had been leaning on for so long.

Now I'm free to figure out who I am at my core, without all the crutches. Slowly, I'm taking away all the things I have leaned on my whole life to figure out who I really am at the center. And it is absolutely terrifying, but I cannot stop. 

-Randa

I Don't Feel My Worth

I don't feel worth the company I keep. I don't feel worth their time or effort. Why hasn't everyone abandoned me already? How could I ever repay them for staying with me, comforting me, telling me what my mind knows to be true over and over again because my heart doesn't believe it. I could not. There is nothing I could do to show them how much it meant, how much it means that they are here for me, even when I have nothing to give.

So I sit alone in silence, and cry to myself. Because I cannot put that burden on anyone else.

-Randa

Walking On Sidewalks Is Bad For Your Brain

I think often times we unconsciously make decisions that affect who we become as people, and unless it's pointed out to us, never notice. For instance, when there's a sidewalk that takes you where you want to go, but it's more of a round about way than just walking through the grass, often times people still pick the sidewalk. I understand, it's convenient, the ground is flatter, the parallel lines appeal to our brains, but that preference is built in.

Societal norms constrain us, give us limitations, and I'm not saying that's a bad thing at all, but when you don't realize that you're making those decisions.. that is what seems a little bit sketchy to me. It's a personal choice whether you want to be defined as x, y, or z, or if you would rather stay fluid so you can take on and understand all perspectives... but be aware of it. Because 95% of the time, society is pushing us to be boxed, and defined, and if you don't consciously fight against it, you're going to get sucked into it.

Basically, what I'm saying is cut through the grass. Try it, at least once. If you don't like it and you want to go back to your box, I understand. Sometimes, I want to go back to my box and stay there forever. But people don't grow if they stay in their boxes. I won't, you won't. So just try it.

-Randa

Keep A Diary, Man (or Woman) (or Human)

There has always been a direct correlation between stressful and/or complex situations occurring in my life and how often I write in my diary. Often, I know people don't want to take the time to write out what's going on in their lives or leave evidence that events happened around them, but all of that emotional constipation can really put a dent in someone's self development.

The way I work through problems will never be the same as the next guy's (or girl's)(or human's), but what I'm trying to say is you need to find your thing. You know, the way that you work through stuff to help you identify what's going on in your life and how you feel about it. Because it's okay to not know how you feel. It may be a sign of not being in touch with your emotions, but it's still okay (Can you tell I speak from personal experience?.. oh you can? I'll just leave this here)...

Really, once you've concretely figured out how you feel, moving forward is much easier. Also, there is the pleasant side effect of relief from a problem you may not have even realized you had. Once all that unconscious baggage is gone, who knows? Your mind will be free to wander at will and dwell on the things that are really important, like what you're going to have for dinner. Or lunch. Second breakfast?

-Randa

I Hate Small Talk.

Never, have I ever despised something so much. It's awkward, generic, and needs to be skipped. Like the first two chapters of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I want to get to the good bits. Who were you when you were younger? What were you like in grade school, middle school, high school? What were you almost named? What would your last meal be? What are you afraid of most? Why? What are you afraid of most about yourself? Why? Who are you? Are you who everyone thinks you are? Tell Me, because I have an insatiable curiosity for everything about you. I want to know about the humans around me, their lives, their stories. Stories are my favorite thing in the world. Don't tell me a story, tell me your story, because you may never get another chance.

You could be hit by a bus. I could be hit by a bus. You just never know.

That's how I know I gel well with someone. I start asking them all these crazy questions and they, without hesitation, seek to answer them... usually truthfully.

-Randa

When Sh!t Hit The Fan/The Beginning

The turning point in my psyche seems like a good place to start, right? So I had a negative presence in my life. The nagging feeling that something was wrong, but not being able to decide what it was exactly. But then, I figured it out:

The person that I had trusted with my emotions, thoughts, real self, and truth was having a negative impact on my life.

They had slowly changed from this person I loved who was amazing and supported me into a person who thought they were better than some of the things I enjoyed, and who looked down on me for enjoying them. They became restrictive and controlling of my life, without perhaps even realizing what they were doing to me. And I, with my love for them and my unwillingness to believe it was true, chose to ignore the signs.

This went on for weeks, perhaps months. I was stuck in a place where this person that was so very close to me made me uncomfortable. Made me feel bad about being myself. Honestly, I was really angry after the fact for putting up with it for so long, because the right person would have never made me feel bad for being who I really am, and doing what I like to do.

I knew we were destined to break up. The thought of an endless future with them was unbearable, because trying to masquerade as what they wanted me to be indefinitely... I just couldn't imagine it. It was beyond my capability.

We ended, rather abruptly.

We had ended before, but always wound up going back to each other... Not this time. I was not going back. So I ended it over the phone. That's terrible, I know, but I knew if I ended it in person, I would be sucked right back in. So I did what I had to do.

And you know what?

Now I can breathe. And be. Just exist. The stillness, the tranquility that I lacked for a year and a half of my life has now returned, and I have started finding myself again. The pieces that had been buried, ignored, or just lost are being picked up one by one.

The journey to find myself, and fix all the little bothers that have been left behind has begun.

-Randa

Hi There

I am a young woman who has had enough of being frightened. I no longer want to be contained, held back, or boxed up by the fear that has run my life for so long. I'm starting this blog to record my journey of courage. It has already started. It started when I got out of bed this morning. That was honestly the scariest thing I did all day. But I'm still here, telling you this, so everything turned out all right.

There were a few large events that started me on this conscious journey:
-I let go of someone I loved very much who was negatively influencing my life.
-I cut off all my hair, part of my identity that has been present ever since I was a child.
-I began exploring who I really am underneath all the bullsh!t. This one can be the scariest. I've had to accept all the good things about myself, but also all the bad. There's definitely plenty of that to go around.

This blog is meant to be totally cathartic, for my own use, but if it helps you then I am glad. That means one more person was courageous today, and in our world, we need more of that.

-Randa