Tag Archives: mental-health

year one

8 Sep

I haven’t written anything of any significance or in any form of prose in quite some time, but it’s honestly probably been for the best. While some could see this as a travesty, that I’ve abandoned my creative outlet in order to pursue some mundane day to day activity, I actually have to counter that when I used to write more often, it was mostly self deprecating or from a place of negativity. I tend to write in times where I feel restless and not content in my life and environment, and the words end up being pessimistic. Although writing is an amazing outlet, I have the clarity to look back now and realize that my writing, while creative, was also not the most beneficial for my mental state. It’s important to be able to laugh at yourself, but it’s never good if you’re making fun of yourself because you don’t like who you are. And that’s exactly what I was doing.

So, now that I’ve prefaced this with that little declaration, i’ll get down to the point. On this exact day one year ago, I made the decision to move back from New York to Massachusetts in order to work on myself. And I wanted to write something tonight because tomorrow I start a new job and embark on a new journey to figuring out where my life will go and where my life will end up. A year ago, I needed to figure out a career path, but most importantly, I needed to work on my mental health, which I have never taken the time to actually step back and do. For years, I have thought on my own and also have been told by others that I could benefit from working on myself and getting to the roots of my unhappiness. But I was always in a place where I thought that my unhappiness would work itself out on its own and it was just a passing phase, or that I was just unhappy and meant to be unhappy. I thought that some people were just meant to live their lives out not content and unhappy. But, over the past year, I have grown in ways I never would have expected had I not made the decision to take a step back and figure my life out.

Last summer was probably the height of my unhappiness. As cliché as it sounds, I went through a nasty breakup that left me shattered. Although I put my whole heart into that relationship and I fell very fast and very hard for my ex, our relationship did not last long (for the best, really. I thank whatever higher power there might be now that he broke up with me when he did), so after a period of time, I was extremely confused about why I was as sad as I was still. Yes, I was broken hearted, but I seemed TOO broken hearted for the situation. I was also working at a job that I hated more than anything. I really liked the people I worked with, and they’re honestly the only things that kept me sane at that company, but the work itself killed me. It was mentally draining and excessively stressful, and all of the stress and anguish wasn’t worth it for the work I was doing and the experience I was gaining. I found myself at a loss.

I kept assuming that over time, life would figure itself out. I figured that I would meet someone new, he would just magically appear and I would forget about my ex. I thought that a new job would fall into my lap and it would just happen to be exactly what I wanted to do and also pay my rent, while still allowing me to enjoy myself. But none of this was realistic. Not only would nothing just fall into place because I wanted it to, but also the fact that I wasn’t even enjoying myself anymore. When I was first living in New York, I really enjoyed it; I loved that it was huge and there were so many new places to explore and new people to meet. But over time, it started weighing on me. Getting almost anywhere was at least a 40 minute subway ride. Everything was expensive. I didn’t want to go to new places or meet new people anymore, I just wanted be surrounded by the familiar and back somewhere safe, where I could figure out my entire life. New York can be a really amazing place to be, but sometimes, it isn’t the right place to be. That’s what I had to figure out.

The second I realized that I had the option and opportunity to step back and figure myself out, rather than just taking whatever menial job I hated to cover my rent, I knew that was really the only option. My mental state had never been so out of whack before in my life. I was always frantic and anxious. I had never experienced anxiety so often and so regularly before in my life.

I can happily say that a year later, I have never once regretted the decision to move home. The only time I have ever really missed New York was when thinking about how I don’t read as much as I’d like to anymore because I had a commute everyday that I wanted to pass the time on. Other than that, I haven’t missed it. Whenever I visit New York now, I have a great time because I’m with great friends, but I always know in the back of my mind that it was never like that when I lived there. The day to day was not enjoyable. I was not happy.

This might be the first time in my life I can say that I think I’m actually on the path to becoming happy, at least without external forces. I’m not depending on a relationship or something physical from the outside world to determine my happiness and self worth. I recently wrote a list of 25 things I’ve accomplished before turning 25, and I realized that the list shifted from physical things I’ve accomplished (which were all pretty varied and I’m proud of) to how I’ve completely changed thinking about the world. I’m finally at a place where I am happy to sit back, work on myself, and enjoy spending time with my loved ones. I’ve unintentionally become a more optimistic person. My cynicism level has dropped and I feel like I’ve become extremely less bitter about the world. It feels good. I’ve never felt so “okay” before and I like it. I know I still have to work on myself, but it’s a work in progress and at least I’m taking the time to make time for myself. I’ve realized that some things in life will happen when they happen, because what is meant to happen will happen. But, there are other things, such as career and mental health, that you need to work on yourself. You won’t just become happy because you wish that you’d stop being unhappy. You can’t just sit and wish that life will change for you. You need to take the steps and actually try. Something from within has to change.

So I’m writing this all down now because it’s officially been a year since I’ve made the decision to work on myself as a human being, and I am really happy to think about how much better I feel. It just feels like my entire perspective on life has changed and I’m getting to a place where I am content in life, but in a good way. Not in a way that I’m accepting my lot in life because it is what it is, but I’m content in that I’m good with everything. As I said, I’m starting a new job tomorrow. I will be working as a one to one instructional assistant in a first grade classroom, and I really think that although it will be very challenging work, it will also be so rewarding and exactly the experience I need. I worked in a school once I moved back from New York, and it is the first time in my life where I worked a job I didn’t dread going to. I’m hoping this continues and I can really figure out my life, at least in terms of career. The rest will happen when it happens, but at least I’m working my way there.

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to: me, from: me (init)

25 Sep

It’s late September and you’re sitting in the shambles of your bedroom; clothes are thrown everywhere, your bureau is covered with anything you couldn’t find a spot for. You need to pack but don’t know where to begin. In a little over a week, you’ll be moving. Not to another apartment in New York, but back home because you just can’t do it anymore. Your mental health has taken a major hit and you’re not accepting it. You weren’t expecting this to happen – especially so soon – but it’s happening and surprisingly, you’re actually okay with it.

Even though your life in New York only lasted a less than a year and a half, more has happened to help you grow than you could have ever anticipated. Your time there wasn’t long, but life seemed to happen in fast forward, squeezing in more life lessons, experiences, and realizations about your sense of self than you could have ever imagined. And it’s scary and sad and you’re not happy like you expected you would be, but you’re learning and growing and the experience was ultimately with it. You know you needed this. Part of it comes naturally from growing up – you went from 22 to 24 in New York. You went from early twenties to mid twenties. You don’t enjoy the same things you did a year ago and your priorities have changed almost completely. You’re a different person. But you know this isn’t just because you’re getting older and maturing. You know New York had a major hand in showing you what’s most important to you and that you can’t pretend to be anything or like anything for other people. You need to live for yourself.

I’ll start off with this, things you anticipated about New York, but had to actually experience to understand to what extent: everything smells bad and everything costs money – too much money. You’ll spend unfathomable amounts on cab rides from Manhattan or even just from one end of Brooklyn to the other, and the beer all costs too much, as do your groceries. Plus, you order food out way more than you should, and every time you hit “place order” on seamless, you can hear your bank account begin to whimper. Despite what people say about happy hour, searching for good deals around where you work in midtown is useless, you still spend too much money. Plus midtown is actually the center of hell all on its own and the fact that you are there five days a week makes you want to scream. Your rent is stupidly expensive for the area you live in. You live paycheck to paycheck and you accept it, but you know it won’t help you in the long run. It’s also too loud. Always too loud. There are literally sounds everywhere and it’s overwhelming. There are rats everywhere, mostly in the subway. And no matter how many rats you see in the subway, you will always still be startled by rats in the subway. You’ll have a mouse in your apartment. You and Lauren will name him Clarence, but he will never be welcome. You see him once soon after you move in but then not again for months. You think you imagined him, but he’s not imaginary – he’s just hiding out. Eventually disposing of him will be slightly scarring. And it will take 45 minutes. You just don’t want to deal with this.

You will drink too much at the beginning. Way too much. And your friends will tell you this and you will feel attacked at first, but you know they’re right. You consciously try to be better, and you have your slips, but you do get better with it. So there is that, you do yourself proud. But when you first move, for the first few months, you drink more consistently during the week than ever before, even in college. You still really miss college, despite how many years have gone by. And you will always miss studying abroad. You wanted to live back in a big city because London was so amazing. But New York isn’t London, not by a long shot, and the stupidity of your youth while you were abroad isn’t acceptable anymore. Your life was a dream then and you didn’t realize that living and working in New York would be so starkly different from visiting. When you visited for long weekends in the past, you didn’t want to leave. Now, you find yourself itching to go home for the first time.

You fell in love again. It’s unexpected, but it happened. And it terrified you because it happened fast, faster than ever in the past. But you embraced it as much as it scared you. He was good looking and had a beard and he let you pop his pimples and his favorite food is pizza, just like you. He felt like your dream man, but you knew there was a lot wrong that you were ignoring. You wanted this to work, so you didn’t tell him how often he hurt your feelings or how it bothered you that he thought of you so little and he thinks about himself too much, or that he really has no idea how to be in a relationship. You brush away all of the bad because you thought there was more good there and you loved him. You thought he loved you too, but you’re wrong because he tells you so. You have a sneaking suspicion that he was lying and just scared. You don’t think you misinterpreted the signs, things he said and did (that time he actually said the words “I love you” and apparently didn’t realize he said it), but he tells you otherwise. In the end that doesn’t matter – he doesn’t want to be with you. And your heart will be crushed and stay crushed for a while.

It confuses you, why you feel so terrible for the amount of time you do, but you come to realize it isn’t about him. Trust me, eventually you’re sadder about losing his friends and Thursday night trivia and the life you had built while in a relationship than you actually are about him. And it took you the summer, but you finally understand: you’re unhappy. Not just at the current moment in life, but fundamentally. You’re unhappy and you know that you’ve generally always been unhappy, at least for the last however many years. At this point you can’t even remember when the unhappiness first seeped in. You’ve just been searching too desperately for distractions and people to surround yourself with to even realize it. And surrounding yourself with people doesn’t work no matter how hard you try; you don’t have the support system you envisioned you would have when you moved to New York. The friends you’ve made already have other friends, they don’t need you the way you need them. You’re lonely and you acknowledge that and realize you don’t like it. Being lonely doesn’t suite you, never has. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but something clicks and everything changes and you completely understand the level of your unhappiness. And you finally acknowledge that New York is a part of it.

You’ve started to realize that while you used to dread the idea of moving home, you can’t understand why anymore. Home seems safe and what you need while your mental stability hangs in the balance. You’re drained mentally and emotionally and you need to fix that. Whereas before you thought Boston was too small, you’re now realizing that New York is too big. And while you’re not old, you feel too old and tired to be attracted to that anymore. While you were once excited about moving somewhere so expansive and so large, it’s too big for you eventually. You’re too lazy to want to go anywhere other than your apartment. You used to admire the subway system because it felt so unreliable in Boston, but you’ve even tired of the fact that to get anywhere, you have to travel a minimum of thirty minutes by train. You’re exhausted in every aspect of your life. You don’t have the thirst to travel and explore different parts of New York, to discover hidden gems and forgotten areas. That doesn’t excite you anymore. Nothing about New York excites you anymore. And that’s okay.

The thought of moving home excites you; of being with your family again and with friends you don’t see anymore. The idea of being at a distance from a city for a while, but knowing Boston is just at your fingertips if you need it. This all makes sense to you. A new environment but somewhere familiar to nurse you back to feeling like yourself again. This feels good and it feels right and that excites you. And that’s okay.

You never had plans for yourself and New York in the long run. You didn’t have a time frame. You just wanted to go. You weren’t ready to leave college and you weren’t ready to go home, you just needed to go somewhere else. Somewhere bigger and somewhere better where you thought your career opportunities would lie. But you didn’t have any concrete expectations. You didn’t expect to work an entry level position in finance in midtown. You didn’t expect how stressful it would be for no reason. You didn’t expect to dread going to work every single day. You didn’t expect how much this would weigh on you emotionally. You know people exist who love their jobs, and you long to be part of that club. You didn’t expect to cry at your desk almost every day for over two months. And you definitely didn’t expect to be 24 with almost absolutely no idea of what you want your career to be. New York was supposed to solve that problem, but instead you’re leaving with an even bigger sense of uncertainty. That scares you, but you know staying will only make it worse and make you unhappier. You can’t do that to yourself any longer.

You start losing the desire to write, and that, too, scares you. Writing was always your creative outlet, your way to allow your thoughts to take flight of their own. Part of the disconnect was distraction – going out a lot and being in a relationship got in the way of writing. A lot of it was from working all day and having no brain power to even consider sitting down and typing. But you know you need that outlet and that way to express yourself, even if no one reads it, and even taking the time to write out all these thoughts gives you a sense of control again. That feels good. All you wanted was to feel like yourself again, and this all feels like a step in the right direction to getting back to who you were.

But it wasn’t all sad in New York. You had plenty of good times: birthday celebrations, monthly book club meetings, free happy hours with friends from work. Even just the nights spent at your apartment watching dumb tv shows and movies and drinking wine. All of those are moments you’ll now cherish, and you needed those. You met some good people and had some great laughs. You went to some new and beautiful places and had some interesting experiences. You lived life while you could, but New York lost its appeal. The allure vanished and the thought of staying there makes you feel trapped and stuck. You want to get out before you resent the city. So many people end up in New York because it’s an escape from their former life, but it turns out that for you, New York was a way to get back home. You’re finally ready to be there, and you thank New York for that.

a moment on the lips…and you know the rest

19 Apr

I’ve written before on here that I work for Weight Watchers. What a lot of people don’t tend to realize is that to work for Weight Watchers, you need to be a lifetime member of the program. This means that you need to have hit your goal weight and remained in your goal range in order to work for the company. People who come into the stores or see me working at the weigh-in stations tend to not realize that you need to have done the program and lost weight to work for the company, and they always seem to assume that I’ve lost 20 pounds at most, despite the fact that I wear a nametag that says “Weight Watchers, Alaina, I lost 66 pounds in 2008”. I guess people don’t read nametags anymore (folks nowadays, huh?) or are just more for jumping to conclusions or assumptions about people, but we pretty much lay it right out there for all members to see that we have been through the program, are on the program, and we know what they’re going through. Everyone who works for the company has been where the members have been and we are still dealing with our own weight loss battles, despite our successes.

So I lost my weight in 2008, but my weight loss journey began far before then. I’ve never actually written anything about losing my weight, but I feel the desire to now for some reason. I might as well share my story since I’m constantly grasping for topics to write posts about. So congratulations, (imaginary) reader! You get to read my story, whether you want to or not (don’t you DARE go to a different website, you hear me?)!

As I said, my journey began before 2008, probably about 10 years before. The first time I thought to myself that I needed to go on a diet was when I was eight years old. I had started gaining weight and I decided that I should do something about it. I didn’t tell my mother I thought I needed to go on a diet, I just tried to eat more fruit pretty much. That’s what television taught me a diet was: eating fruit. But, I was eight. When you’re eight, you’re usually not as much in control of what you eat as you’d like to be. And also, what an eight year old would like to eat is probably lots of ice cream. So I was already getting that. Also, most members of my family have struggled with weight problems throughout their lives, so we really weren’t the best support system for one another in terms of trying to lose weight and learn to live a healthy lifestyle. My main point here is that what bothers me is the fact that I was eight years old and I thought I was fat. At the time I obviously didn’t think much of it, but looking back, it’s so sad to me that I was thinking that way about myself. I think that part of this realization came from secretly knowing that I could never own a life-size Barbie because the commercials advertised the owner of the Barbie sharing clothes with her, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that because I would be too big. Just add that to the list of what’s wrong with Barbie and our society (more like what isn’t wrong with Barbie, amirite?).

All through middle and high school, I struggled with my weight. I always felt like I was the heaviest of all of my friends. On top of this, I hang out with a lot of small and short people, so I felt like a monster in comparison. I just never felt like I was cute or looked good like my other friends did. I don’t know if my friends felt cute, they probably didn’t because middle school is like walking slowly through hell while being whipped and having your braces mercilessly tightened consistently for three years, but I thought that my friends all looked cute and wore cute clothes. Boys liked my friends. Boys did not like me (not much has changed except that now, no one likes me). As I got older I learned that this wasn’t the end all of life, but it was fucking middle school. As I said, three years of walking through hell slowly. Seemingly no end in sight. Of course then I thought life was miserable because boys didn’t like me. If “Lizzie McGuire” had taught me anything, it was to be as cute and adorable as possible to win over your crush. I was neither cute nor adorable. I eventually learned after a few years to use my personality to charm (hence why I’m the uproarious person you see in front of you today), but for the most part I feel like I was pretty unpleasant and as I have stated, I felt like a monster.

Once, I was considering performing in a talent show with some of the other girls in my grade, and I went to a friend’s house to figure out outfits to wear. The girls decided they wanted to wear halter tops, which I did not own because I tried to avoid showing off my arms and rest of body at all costs when I was in middle school and then for pretty much all of high school and into college for a while. I wore floor length dusters when one should never wear a floor length duster (i.e. never. You should never wear a floor length duster). My friend told me I could borrow one of hers, but it was a bit tight on me. By “a bit tight”, I mean it flat out didn’t fit me. As a side note, I was never imagining that I was heavier than my friends. I physically always had been from 8 years old on. Anyway, we decided we should saran wrap my stomach to try to hold it in. And then we did that. We actually practiced wrapping saran wrap around my stomach to try to flatten it. Nothing went as planned and I ended up not being in the talent show (but come to think of it, I feel like the talent show itself was canceled or something. I don’t think I formally just quit the group because I felt too uncomfortable. Probably for the best if it was canceled, no one needs to see middle schoolers doing poorly choreographed dances), and although my friend wasn’t making fun of me for being heavier, it was the first time someone really noticed my weight problem and acknowledged aloud to me that I was heavier (see, I told you I wasn’t imagining it). It’s one thing to know that yourself, but really another thing for someone to point it out to you, despite how innocently they may be doing so.

But, that was really all there was in my life having to do with other people being a negative factor in my own thinking that I was fat. When most people talk about their weight loss journeys, they mention being teased about their weight throughout their k-12 years. I thankfully never had many experiences with that, aside from one or two encounters (one of these times being when a boy told me and my friend that we were the “fat sisters who looked alike” or something to that nature. It was very clever of him. The second experience was my grandfather lovingly telling me that I would get a boyfriend if I lost weight. I brushed it off as him being an old man); my low-blows came more from what I knew or thought I couldn’t do due to my size rather than from anyone actually pointing it out.

The fat-shaming came from not being able to shop at the same trendy stores as my friends because of my size, or because the store’s twisted version of my size was majorly skewed (I’m referring to the store Limited Too, mostly. I never even bothered stepping foot in there because I didn’t even want to bother trying on clothes and bringing down my self-esteem more).

It came in the form of not being able to understand what feeling satisfied from eating was, because I was constantly shoving food in my mouth as a way to handle all feelings, so I only knew what feeling sick to my stomach was. It came from not being able to adequately deal with my feelings because I was taught and thought for far too long in my life that food was the solution to every single emotion.

It was not being able to run the mile in gym at a normal time because of my asthma, which I still have regardless of my size, but I know was horribly worse when I was heavier. It was knowing I would never feel comfortable in dance costumes because I’d have to add on straps or extra material, and then the proceeding feelings of dread over having to wear them in front of other people at recitals because dance costumes, while usually unflattering regardless of size, happened to look even worse on my lumpy and uneven body.

It was always just the little things that no one would think to consider a source of what was bringing me down. Yes, negativity came from the outside world and outside factors. Obviously the media shows us what we should look like, that especially being true for women (from birth until death we’re taught how we should look a certain way), but it was really from taking what was fed to me from outside sources and how I chose to eat up and interpret them in my own way. People didn’t come up to me and tell me I was fat; I already knew from what I couldn’t do that I was fat. And I hate using the word fat because it just sounds so ugly, but when you’re at that point and you feel that way, it’s really the only way to describe how you perceive yourself. But, my point is that while all of the outside factors surrounding me were telling me to look and be a certain way, my unhappiness with my weight was ultimately on me.

So, when my mother asked me if I wanted to join Weight Watchers with her, I was at the point where I didn’t even hesitate to say “yes”. I needed to for me, because I was so fed up with myself, I was at my heaviest weight, and I just did not feel good about myself in the slightest. Weight Watchers taught me portion control and how to make smarter eating choices. I joined the program right before my senior year of high school and lost the weight through that year and the beginning of freshman year of college, and I think that was the best time for me to ever join. I can’t even think of how different my college experience would have been if I hadn’t lost the weight and had an understanding of how to eat while I was in school.

But, I have to stress that I didn’t automatically feel a huge boost of confidence because I lost weight. I felt better about myself, but I was still at the point of comparing myself to other women around me, because that’s what I’d been doing to myself my whole life. And I still do it now; I think it’s impossible to not compare yourself to other people at least every once in a while. But, I do feel like I was more outgoing once I got to college because I was at least happier with myself. I was happy that I had lost the weight, but I was also really proud of myself for doing so. I lost 66.6 pounds in total, and it still makes me happy to think about that fact that I accomplished that because it really has helped shape me into the person I am today. My mother always says that she thinks joining Weight Watchers was the best thing we’ve ever done together, and I am prone to agree with her. I don’t know where I’d be today if I hadn’t joined the program. I don’t know how I’d look, or more importantly, how’d I’d feel currently. Because while we all want to look good, I really did learn that how you feel about yourself is really most important. It sounds like such a simple lesson, but getting yourself to the point where you’re not horrified and angry with yourself all the time is really more difficult to do than some people understand. I still struggle with not getting mad at myself about certain choices I make, but at least I can say it’s not on a consistent daily basis anymore, and more often than not, I at least still feel healthy, or I know what to do to get myself back to feeling healthy. I’m learning (slowly) to accept my body for what it is, despite the flaws I know I still have. I’ve put a lot of work into doing that and perceiving myself more positively, and no one can take it away from me.

And thus ends the “positive” Alaina post of the week. As I always say, at least no one reads this blog. It might take away my cynical, pessimistic, cool kid edge if someone were to read such positivity coming from me. This stays between us. Just me and nobody.

#catholicproblems

14 Feb

I was just reading a Buzzfeed article entitled “17 People Coping With Food Restrictions For Lent” and immediately got annoyed (per usual, classic Alaina). Lent literally is just starting today (or tomorrow, who even knows anymore? I stopped pretending to be Catholic once I was confirmed and never looked back) and yet the internet and forms social media are already getting on my nerves about what people are giving up. Aka everyone is giving up a certain type of food or way of eating because of Lent. I have seen nothing other than food as the common theme of what to give up. Apparently you’re not cool if you don’t cut out everything but water for Lent.

This bothers me for a number of reasons. I just don’t like it when people give things up “for Lent”, when really they don’t even care about Lent and would rather just have an excuse to give something up. So many people just use Lent as an excuse to start dieting, and that’s annoying to me. Just start dieting if you want to start dieting, don’t use Lent as some clever disguise to make it look like you’ll have the willpower to eat only salad for the next forty days. I’d think that you had more willpower if you could just start up trying to eat healthy and lose weight any old day of the week, rather than when it’s convenient to do so. Also, Lent puts an end date on when you’re allowed to give up the diet that you have so graciously started in the name of Jesus, and I’d rather not look at dieting as having an expiration date, but rather look at it from the sense that you should eat better to make yourself feel better and you should do it whenever you damn well please.

I also hate that Lent is literally supposed to be a religious holiday, it isn’t commercialized like Christmas or the other Christian holidays that have lost religious meaning. I know that there are people out there, both young and old, who genuinely give something up for Lent to follow the religion. But, I feel like people now, especially people more my age, are more likely to give something up without even thinking about the reasons why they are giving something up. I’m by no means religious, but to me, it’s like if you’re going to partake in and follow the guidelines of something that pertains to a specific religious event, actually care about what that means. Otherwise, why even bother waiting until Lent to do anything? That’s actually entirely my point. Just fucking go on a juice cleanse if that’s so what your heart desires. Who cares what time of year it is? (Except I don’t encourage going on juice cleanses, food seems to be an important factor in surviving.)

I feel this way about New Year’s resolutions, too. I hate that as a society, we think that we need to have a reason or an excuse to do something, and we can only do these things at certain times of the year. Why bother using that philosophy? If you want to go out and do something, just do it. Don’t try to make a resolution to better yourself and then fail and then tweet about failing at your New Year’s resolution. If you mess up, don’t let it get you down, tomorrow is a new day. That is literally the only time in the entire history of my life I have used a sentence like that and you will never see me be so positive ever again in my life. I think that working for Weight Watchers is really starting to affect me. Being around people who struggle with weight loss on a day to day basis, who start up over and over again on program shows that people do understand that when they want to do something, they should just do it. Fuck having an excuse to, they just get it done. It’s also incredible to see all of the people who have been on program for years, who have been lifetime members for ages, and they don’t just look for a time when it’s convenient to do so.

I get that using Lent or New Year’s or whatever could be argued as a good jumping point to get someone started on their new path in life. Yes, that is true, but I feel like you’re more likely to give something up if there’s an expiration date on it, or once the nostalgia of “it’s the new year, time to make a difference in life!” wears off. If you’re gonna go for something, go for it. And don’t look back. DON’T EVER LOOK BACK.

Also, people need to stop instagramming pictures of salads that are extremely unappetizing. I enjoy a good salad myself, but if you’re going to upload a picture of a few pieces of iceberg lettuce and one tomato, please get out of my newsfeed and actually fall off the planet. I’m not impressed by this salad. That is not a salad. You are going to be hungry in three minutes. Please, feed yourself properly. Thank you.

Ps the title of this post is actually a hashtag that someone on that Buzzfeed link posted to their instagram. Just letting you all know that #catholicproblems exists.