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@the-anxious-bean-blog
Hi hi!
Welcome to the blog! You can also find my rambles here!
I'm new to blogging and posting (although I have been an avid tumblr user for years) so bear with me on this longwinded and most definitely awkward journey. I'm just here talking to the void, hoping it'll talk back. Or at the very least, listen.
Hope to see you around,
Bean 🌱
✨ About The Bean ✨ Intro ✨
truly just as we have universal health care we need to have universal death care. dying is not optional and funerals should not be a financial burden for families.
ideal living situation is what i call the 'sitcom special' : having all your closest friends live in the same apartment building or neighborhood where you each have your own space but can wander in and out of eachothers homes at will, seemingly always welcome and never at bad times. and also all of you only have jobs when its important to the plot.
The Mirror’s Starting to Smile Back
The amount of power our minds have over us is crazy. The way we think—especially about ourselves—impacts every facet of our lives. Recently I've been doing what we all do—working on loving myself.
I have started to change the way I think about myself. Change the "god—I hate myself" in stressful or embarrassing situations to a "god—I hate that I did that but at least I'm trying". Turn the self critiquing spirals into moments where I list things I like about myself. It sounds silly, but it's working. Highlighting the good has been rewiring my brain to naturally seek it out.
When I started correcting my negative self talk by picking out things I like about myself, the list was short and superficial. Things like my eyes, how long my eyelashes are, my hair—but eventually they shifted into more meaningful things. I'd come up with things like my kindness, my empathy, my generosity, my creativity, my ability to keep trying—things that actually matter about myself. Things that make me a person I'd want to hang out with, one that I could admire.
Since doing this, rewiring the negative thoughts by replacing them with good, I've started to like myself. For the first time in my life, I can look myself dead in the eye and like who I see. I smile at her, dance silly with her while I brush my teeth or do my skincare. I really, truly like me.
That's not to say it's been easy. Some days are still bad, still filled with negative thoughts, but it's getting easier to get through them. But like storms, they pass—and when they do make sure to look for the sunshine. You never know, you may see a rainbow.
Until Next time,
A happy Bean 🌱
P.S. High-five yourself in the mirror. It's silly, but it's magic—especially on the tough days 🖤
Still Me, Just Older
Hi there. Sorry it's been a hot sec. I turned twenty-one a few days ago and I guess I expected to feel different—but I don't. Maybe it will hit in a few months, after one too many blurry nights or when the luster or legal drinks wears off—but for now I remain just as I was a few weeks and a different age ago.
One thing that does feel different—that feels scarier— is the seriousness I associate with the age. It's silly in the grand scheme of things because twenty-one is still so young—so vibrant and adventurous—but I feel like I have to have my life together now. Like I should have a career path meticulously picked out and my future children's names already selected, but I don't. I don't know what I'm doing, or what I want to do, or the full depth of who I even am. I don’t know, and I want that to be okay—to feel okay—but it just doesn’t.
People keep asking me about what I plan on doing for a career, and I have no idea. I'm just taking it day by day and I'm not ashamed of that, but people continuously asking (and looking at me a certain way when I respond) makes me feel like I should be. As if not knowing what I want to dedicate my life to is a crime. It's not.
People always say being in your twenties is weird, and I guess I've got nine more years to really understand that.
Until next time,
A weirdly heavy hearted Bean 🌱
The Never Ending To-Do List
I recently came to the conclusion that life is a never ending to-do list, and I can’t decide if that’s comforting or soul-sucking..
On one hand, looking at it this way makes my life feel more structured. I go through the day mentally checking things off—sometimes actually because your girl loves a list—and it makes me feel productive. Accomplished. Like I know what I'm doing and I'm in complete control, when the contrary is my reality. It gives me a false bravado of sorts.
On the other hand, the to do list resets. Every. Single. Day. It's tiring. Constantly feeling as though you're doing something that you just did. Like, I swear I vacuumed yesterday, how is there already so much dog hair?? Or laundry. I do the laundry for the household, and it feels like it never ends.
I like the structure of it all, but the repetition is slowly killing my soul. So the question is: how do I shake things up? I don't really know if it's possible. Work takes place at the same time, laundry gets done one way, folded then put away; the dishes have their designated locations, dog poop always get picked up before the lawn gets mowed, the bathrooms get cleaned the same day of the week, and so forth and so on about a dozen more chores. Don't get me wrong, I know they're necessary repetitions. They need to be done so that I may continue to exist in a clean home and have a happy(ish) mind. But the same thing over and over again, week after week, it gets boring. I guess life is boring, but I don't want it to be. So how do I make my life exciting without running it into the ground? Do I romanticize it? Add in whimsy to the small moments? I guess time—and some good old fashioned trial and error—will tell.
Until next time,
A very sleepy Bean 🌱
She's mentally ill but her tits are amazing
Confession Time
I'm angry and I don't know why. I don't even know if angry is the right word—frustrated may be a better one. The thing is—that's not me. I'm not an angry person—actually I seldomly get angry. Sure, like anyone, I have my moments of agitation and get snippy but it's not my natural state of being.
Maybe the anger is a part of my healing? Truthfully, for a moment there, I attributed it to owning and operating a fully functional uterus—but the window for the explanation has passed.
Anger can be seen—depending on the circumstances—as misguided advocacy. I think the reason why I'm not quick to anger is because I lost my inner advocate. That voice in my head was silenced enough times that she eventually stopped speaking up. I've been doing better these last few months, better than I have been in years, so maybe that's where the anger—or frustration or whatever this feeling is—is coming from. Maybe my inner advocate is starting to come back. Or—maybe I'm just being a bitch. Time and self reflection will tell.
Until next time,
A confused and agitated bean 🌱
Emotional Object Permanence or (Lack Thereof)
I don't know how to know I'm loved. It's tragic, really, but I spent my formative years surrounded by a lot of people who only cared about me because of what I could do for them. Who only valued me as long as I was useful. So I don't know how to believe that someone could just love me and appreciate me simply for my existence.
I know in my head that people care about me, but I just can't seem to have my heart get the memo. I've spent more of my life thinking that my value, worthinesses, and lovability are determined by my usefulness than I haven't. It's only been a few years—roughly three if we're getting specific—since I realized that wasn't true. I'm trying really hard to work on it, but I can't rewire a lifetime of misguided beliefs in a few measly, messy years.
It doesn't help that socially I'm not a very casual person. My anxiety—and other issues that we'll discuss another time—makes opening up to people really hard, so I've always valued quality over quantity. Also, it's hard to find your people when you're not constantly surrounded by a conveniently located group of people your age—one of the downsides of online education is missing out on that.
I've actually heard a lot online about how trying to make new friends in adulthood is difficult—nice to know I'm not alone in that— so if anyone has any suggestions I'm all ears.
Until next time,
A sleep deprived and sad bean 🌱
sorry for acting weird. that was me following my heart
*removes headphones to make sure random ass noise was part of the song and not psychosis*
Versions
Why does aging feel so weird? I'm going to be 21 soon, and parts of me still feel 18, 16, 12, and 5. Like they all exist within me and pop up at different times. I feel 5 when I'm playing tag or hide-and-seek with my nieces. I feel 12 when I see a horse, and my mind transports me back to when I used to take horseback riding lessons. I feel 16 when I go to drive someplace new, shaky but brave. I feel 18 until I interact with my cousin and remember that I am so very not 18.
I think these different versions of us always exist. As if we're a book, and each year is a chapter. Some long, some short, some seemingly never-ending, yet they all come together to create us. We carry the past chapters into the current one because they are what's responsible for making us tick. I carry 12 year old me around because she still lives within me, and she shows herself in how I love, because I learned of grief too soon. I carry 18 year old me in the way I dream, because she always thought her future would be so bright—optimistically delusional that no matter what, things would work out alright.
I am about to be carrying 20 different versions of myself around, and each year I will be fortunate enough to carry another. Growth is a beautiful thing, isn't it?
Until next time,
A refreshingly peaceful and optimistic Bean 🌱
Good Day, Bad Brain
I think part of growing up—or maybe part of bettering yourself—is learning to look for the silver linings. Or at least trying to.
Today was a good day... just with a bad brain. Apparently sleep deprivation, general mental instability, and pmsing aren't a good combination—who'd have thought?
Despite it—and notably for the first time—I'm trying to look for the good things that happened. I still found reasons to smile today. I took the time to look at and reflect upon why I felt certain ways, reacted to certain things, throughout the day. I made an attempt to understand myself better and I think it worked.
It's unfortunate how hard wired my brain is to finding the negative side of things, but I did something good today. Something powerful: I tried and I succeeded. I tried to find the good—the way the sun warmed my skin, the time I was able to spend with my dad, the ice cream I had for dessert, the way I still got things done even when my brain was being mean—and I found them. I haven't done that in a long time.
Maybe that means it's working. That the effort I'm putting into getting better is worth it. Maybe I'm not broken, just a little lost. For the first time in awhile, I think there's hope of a better future for me.
Until next time,
Bean 🌱
thank you Canada 🇨🇦
FUCK YEAH GO CANADA!!!
