These dreams are forever.

It’s crazy being back here after so many years. I recently had a friend tell me that they are still actively writing in their tumblr and I wanted to come back and give it a try for old times sakes. 

I just came here to say bitch you need to relax!! At 29 years old, all of my dreams and ambitions that I never thought were even possible are unfolding right before my eyes. It’s only been a year since I’ve decided to pursue my culinary career and I’m already on my way 

After a long bout of depression and 2 states later, I have landed in Chicago. In 2020, I hit rock bottom at my seemingly perfect job in Wisconsin. Like clock work, the second I stepped outside of that office, I felt as though I only narrowly survived the day. But enough of that- 

Today, I am a chef. I am doing what I’ve always known was my calling, but resisted for so long due to external expectations of me. My younger self would be so proud to see me doing what has always been the little voice in the back of our head. “One day, I’m going to be a chef and finally be happy and fulfilled.” Who knew that as soon as I aligned myself with what I was meant to do, that the doors would swing open and I would progress in ways that I would never imagine. I’m working on getting my business off the ground and personal projects that will both fulfill me emotionally and financially. 

I am in a happy and loving relationship. We communicate so well and have learned how to love each other, but still give space for personal growth. Our love is so safe, understanding, and motivating. We’re allowing ourselves to explore not only each other, but ourselves intimately. Complicated feelings are not met with resistance. We get to explore non-monogamy! 

I feel the most confident than I have ever been. I have found my power in being queer and Asian. I have so much to offer and I am capable of doing so much for me and my community. 

I am the most spiritual I have ever been. I really called on my ancestors to move me forward during this time and the message was well received. When I took my sabbatical in LA, I was fiercely reminded that I was on the right path. Every turn and every glance showed me a 333 and the message was received. Every day I pray that my family has success and happiness and love without having to struggle for it, because that’s what we deserve. 

1. I moved to Madison in a leap of faith to find productivity in the pandemic and also jump start my food science career. It’s been 4 months and I guess on paper I am thriving, but I’m missing so many important parts of my life like meaningful relations and queer bipoc community. There’s also such a lack of culture here and I’m so disappointed in the food. I live by myself and I am definitely the most liberated I’ve ever felt, but living in the midwest is really not super exciting. 

2. A lot of evil in the world which I constantly think about and talk about, which I will not get into here. It’s just really hard to live in the duality of disappointment/angry/heartbroken and finding peace/happiness. More on that later perhaps. 

3. I don’t know if I like my new job and I think generally everyone is really fucking mean?? I get along with my coworkers really well but it’s the white capitalism that makes people talk a certain way that I am really not okay with. I knew working for a huge company like this would mean exploitation for this period of my life, but I don’t know if I can handle the disrespect and pressure.

4. Work feels all consuming because every other aspect of my life feels very slow right now. I am unable to travel or go out or meet people and I’m the type who’s always been busy. I really think I’m just bored, which I can’t say that I’ve ever been before. I want a dog, but I’m away from my apartment for 11 hours a day. 

Waking up in the morning with no sense of motivation to carry out the day’s duties. You lay in bed and stare at the wall, wide awake, knowing you’re causing your own demise. It feels like; everything and nothing at all. You don’t notice details like the colors of the trees or remember the commute to work. You’re trapped in your head and you’re trapped in your own body. You look down at your hands as if you’re awakening to a new life in a video game. Focusing on the ridges of your palms trying to see past the static. Having full control, but no sense of connection to the player trying to move you. It’s looking into the mirror in disgust because you can’t recognize yourself and you wonder how anyone else could possibly look at you like you’re worth something. 

It’s eating so much that you don’t care how it will destroy you later on. It’s eating so little that you don’t remember how it feels to be hungry. “I’m not depressed,” you say, “because if I was, I would want to kill myself.” So you keep dragging yourself along, with every interaction and every place you go hoping to feel something, but unable to feel anything. 

Depression feels like;

Squeezing your lover so tight and wondering why you can’t feel him. Desperately trying to breath him in like a slow drag, but when you exhale there’s no smoke. 

It feels like a whole year wasted because you can’t remember what you did and where you went and how you felt because you actually didn’t feel anything at all. It’s wondering who did this to you. It’s wondering why you’re doing this to yourself.

Leaving town for 6 weekends in a row trying to find somewhere or someone that will make you feel again, but the answer is in yourself- but no one is home. 

Realizing that nobody can see you. Your physical body present, but you’re a shell of a person and nobody knows your soul is watching from above. Showing up and not knowing if you’re really there. 

Depression feels like;

The world is suddenly bright again and you can feel your body producing the chemical that allows you taste the air outside and thinking, “I hope I don’t go to the bad place again.” It’s being able to feel love and joy and happiness, wondering why you haven’t felt this way in so long so you hold on tight, hoping it doesn’t go away. And then it goes away. And then you wonder if you’re ever going to feel that way ever again like you missed a great opportunity to live properly. 

Waking up on a Sunday with no plans, your only day of rest with no intention of resting. You drag yourself out of bed at 3pm to eat, and sleep for another 4 hours. You wake up to see the sun, only to realize you don’t want to be here, so you close your eyes and try to disappear, until you do. 

I’ve been spending a lot of time with myself for the past few months. I’ve removed myself from any obligations where I am depended on and that in turn has given me the space to focus on myself. I’m learning that I’ve always had an obsession with needing to be the best version of myself, but I’ve come to the realization that I will never stop growing and gaining new insights doesn’t necessarily mean I’m not already whole. 

1. I am a perfectionist. Everyone else was aware of this and I suppose I fooled myself, but I had no idea this was a fundamental characteristic of me. I don’t consider myself put together. If anything, I feel like I’m constantly underperforming and overall unhappy with the things I produce, to the point where I’ll put tasks off or leave them uncompleted if I’m unhappy with my progress. In retrospect, I think those are major indications of perfectionism, but I’m only just now seeing this. Apparently, perfectionist is also a result of childhood trauma, where the child feels that if they are high performing then it will secure safety and stability in their life. This was a hard pill for me to swallow, but I think I can begin to move a little differently knowing this. 

2. I am my own worst enemy. In the middle of one of my sessions, my therapist asked me why I was so critical of myself. She noticed that I backtrack a lot and that my inner voice sounds militant, belittling, and mean. She asked me to focus on not judging myself and allowing myself to be more present. I’m trying to understand where this high expectation of myself came from and how it has wreaked havoc on my life. I’m starting to become very disappointed in the way that I treat myself, and I’m only in the beginning stages on how to fix it. 

3. I have an unhealthy relationship with my body. I’ve always known that I had body dysmorphia, but I never knew to what extent. I remember being a child worrying about my weight because a family friend told me that I looked so skeletal that they thought they would able to see my heart beating in my chest. I gained weight after that and by 6th grade, I vividly remember asking my friends multiple times a week if they thought I was fat. As the years went on, those friends would drive their fingers into my love handles and call me a pillsbury dough boy until I hit puberty. The summer after my freshman year in college, I teetered the line of eating disorder when I was working out every day and limiting myself to 800 calories, 200 of that being my protein shake. I lost almost 30 pounds in 3 months until I couldn’t sustain that lifestyle anymore. I steadily gained 50 pounds by the end of my senior year, and people would make comments about how fat I got even though I was struggling to keep afloat through my entire college career. 

I thought I was over that part of my life, but the negativity is so embedded that I don’t even realize how quietly I dig at myself for my physical appearance every time I look in the mirror. After my break up, I found myself sitting in this space again as I dragged myself back to the gym, convinced I wasn’t worthy of love in this toxic gay community unless I had a certain physique.

As the world shifts into a momentum that forces us to look within ourselves, I ask myself, what am I releasing? A sense of normalcy, physical community, a concept of time, an old routine, a past life. 

Moments move a little slower and a little quieter, and though the reasons are catastrophic and I worry for my loved ones and the state of the world constantly, I’m trying to find peace in a biologically sanctioned slowing of time and expectations. 

I haven’t been writing at all. Although I try to pass it off as a hobby being neglected, I know deep down it’s myself that I’m neglecting and refusing to confront so many emotions and movements as of late. “We’re all doing it,” I tell myself, as I imagine the world as a collective dragging herself out of bed every morning to drone on at an unfulfilling life. “I’ll get to it eventually.” Having to meet someone else’s expectations day to day is so much easier than meeting my own since they’re so fucking high. 

I have 217 drafts waiting to be revisited because I’m too judgmental of how I live and perceive my life to post it. My therapist, who I’ve started seeing last month, told me that it’s okay to feel something differently after I’ve felt it or said it, and that has been on the mind ever since. No more apologizing for reflecting and growing constantly. 

I guess the point of this entry is to inspire myself to hold onto me a little tighter. I’ll be okay, even in the moments when I’m not. It has come to my attention that I am my worst enemy, and my inner voice is militant, belittling, and judgmental. I have so much love to give, but why have I never considered giving it to myself?