Vicious voices violate vindication,
desperately drinking disconsolate doubts
Secret sensations so suddenly seen,
being bedeviled by bystander blackouts.
Crooked crossroads confuse comprehension,
forever feeling frenetically far.
Socially scared, suggestive sequela,
Continual casualties consuming cigars.
Will we withdraw?
Dear future daughter,
When people ask me about the most important thing I’ve learned thus far, I can’t help but think about how destructive I was as a young teenager. If the old saying is true, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you will be relentless, vicious and (secretly) scared to death. I think I can help you.
I know that all of a sudden, you’ll go from being the class nerd, to the girl all boys want to feel up at parties. You’ll go from wearing limited too tracksuits and looking like a character from a bad sitcom, to wearing nothing but shorts, fishnets, crop tops and winged eyeliner. You won’t have a clue about what the fuck goes on around you.
One day, someone will hurt you. One day, some 19 year old predator will fix his eye on you. One day, you’ll feel like the bones in your body must stick out even more. You’ll learn to hate yourself, to avoid your reflection, to count calories and skip meals, to mutilate your own skin.
I need you to forget about all this shitstorm around and think of your best friend for a minute. What would happen if he or she ever told you that you looked disgusting? How would you react to them pinching whatever amount of fat you have on your body? What if they suggested you should grab a razor and slash your wrists up? And how would you feel if they pointed out that barely noticeable pimple or scar or whatever imperfection on your face, and told you it completely ruined you? What if your best friend ever told you that you were not worthy of being loved, or cared for, or an incredible human being?
Let me answer those questions for you. You would cut that bitch out of your life for being cruel, cold and critical. You would be outraged at them for daring to treat you with such a blatant lack of respect and disregard for your feelings…
And yet I know that you will do all of the above to yourself. You are not your enemy. Treat yourself like a friend, and do not tolerate doing to yourself what would be unspeakable if someone else did it. What you say to yourself in front of the mirror or when you shut your eyes to sleep at night is no worse than what a toxic friend could possibly tell you. Don’t tolerate all that negativity inside you: You are worthy of being loved, worthy of inner peace.
If you manage to make that inner voice your friend, and find peace within yourself, I promise, you will come to find that facing the world outside of your head becomes a million times better, and way more gratifying.
Love,
Aisling, and (in theory), your mother.
You never said no.
He was 19, you were 16. You knew no better.
“It’s not your fault.”
But you shouldn’t have had
quite so much to drink.
“It’s not your fault”
But it isn’t he who cries
In front of that crucifix
At the confession line in mass.
“Good girls don’t do that”
But screw the good girls.
You can swallow the world in one shot of vodka.
Slut. Whore. Harlot.
You have a reputation Miss Ahearne.
“Lucie stop crying”
Lucie drank pills yesterday.
And Sophie was locked in a stall.
Save us Márquez!
El mar crecerá con mis lágrimas.
The grave in your heart is deeper
The acid in your brain more scalding
Arteries ripped and harrowed,
The oxygen in your lungs tells a more ominous tale
I’ll tell you a secret.
Sometimes her spinal cord
Feels like she’s being impaled
To her own used, disgusting body.
And to those of you who won’t believe the last sentence.
Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate.
She burns like the fifth circle of hell.
Part 1 can be found here.
It is commonly acknowledged by sailors and writers alike that Siren song will lead men to an enchanting death. Ulysses (Greek Ὀδυσσεύς Odysseus; Latin: Ulixes) knew the previous fact. Upon learning that Siren song would render him incapable of returning home to his loving family, he ordered his sailors to tie him to a mast, swords pointed, to prevent him from jumping into the ocean.
As it turns out, Ulysses is not only interesting because of the depth of his characterization, he also gave Tamara Gendler, Yale Philosophy professor, an idea on how to end the procrastination cycle (see the full video here).
See, you need to stop lying to yourself. You know that no matter how strong your initial willpower to not check Facebook while you’re working, quit smoking, start working out, [insert whatever you’ve been blatantly putting off here], you always end up procrastinating. In my first post about procrastination, you understood why you procrastinate, and now I’m here to tell you how you can stop.
The big secret? Get yourself a mast and tie yourself to it. Need to stop checking out pages while trying to be productive? Use websites like Cold Turkey to temporarily block your access of certain pages before you get tempted to use them. Want to work out more? Spend money on a fun class you want to try out, splurge on hot workout gear, give someone you trust a motivational sum of money and make them promise to only give it back if you reach your goal (quick author tip: HIIT is BOMB, 20 minute workouts for 30 days straight and the weight just melts off. Google Jillian Michael’s 30 day shred.) I digress, if you put money on your project beforehand, you’ll more likely work to achieve your goals. None of that “I’m too tired/It’s cold outside/I’ll start tomorrow” bullshit because now your money is on the line. Invest in yourself.
Get to know yourself. Do you always need a snack before studying? Do you need a quiet room? Get all of your requirements sorted beforehand, so you’re not making up lame excuses to get up all the time. Know that once you start you do not have permission to stop until you reach a reasonable goal.
Finally, reward yourself. Make your brain know that workout=hot bath or shower, 45 minutes of studying=20 minutes of Youtube videos, 1 month no smoking=treating yourself to that new thing you want. I’m telling you, Parks and Recreation was on to something when they invented “treat yo’ self”. Aristotle said that a repeated action becomes a habit, and habits are easy, second nature. Rewarding yourself helps turn your goal into a habit.
Along the way, there will also be days when you feel like you can’t anymore. There will be days when your body feels so heavy you will need to sleep and blow it all off. Your health comes before everything. Eat your favorite comfort food and go to bed early, have a good, long cry, confide in a friend or in a stranger. It’s OK. The next day, wake up early and finish your responsibilities, talk to yourself, get back on track, smile. I believe in you.
Take a deep breath.
You’ve got this.
Aisling
Stay tuned for part 3. I would love your feedback in the comments.
Today I read an article so beautifully phrased that I couldn’t help but feel the growing, anxious urge to get on this page and write. The article brilliantly describes the procedure of brain surgery while patients are awake. Somehow it managed to get me in a very philosophical mood. We all intuitively take a few minutes every once in a while to remember that all of human reality is formed out of varying weights of flesh and blood, with chemicals swimming to different destinations out of electrical impulses.
I had someone I hurt write me a love letter once. He wrote me two, actually. I need to come clean.
Dear whoever you are (Let’s call you B),
I’ve come to realize something that most everyone discovers at around age 3 (because I’m fucking brilliant): human existence is plagued with fear. I’m not talking about how you jump when you see a spider or the twinge of paranoia you are faced with when you walk through a dark alley all by yourself. I’m talking about the fear that eats your insides up like the hungry caterpillar we used to read about in preschool.
Did you know that fluorosulphuric acid is so corrosive it eats straight through glass test tubes? I feel like I have some of that inside me when I try to sleep at night because the truth is, B, I am so insanely scared of so many seemingly stupid situations (have you ever realized that the only difference between scared and scarred is one single, stupid, “r”?) I figure that if I write my fears here maybe you can relate.
See, when I’m with my friends I can’t bring myself to confess them, at least not fully. Sometimes I hint around my biggest fears but I never explicitly say them because then I give them too much knowledge, and that, in itself, scares me shitless.
I know, I know, B. These are all silly, first world problems. But for me they are also very real. Sometimes I ask myself: So what if I never live an extravagant life, and I’m not in a relationship and never have a Jane Austen love story? So what if I hook up with strangers? Then I stop caring for a minute, but later on my brain remembers that even Jane Austen died alone, and it answers all the “so whats” in the most twisted way it can until all I have is a heart full of fear and five hundred different “so what” outcomes.
I leave you with the full confession of my biggest fears in life, B, hoping that if you can claim one as well, we can at least subside the pain we derive from them. Because, let’s face it, misery loves company.
I guess all that’s left to say is keep going and do your best?
Love,
Aisling.
Aisling A. 