The state of the world is a 0 out of 10. My friend texted me that today.
The United States returned to the 1950s and it’d be easy to claim that as the reason for my writer’s block. But the truth is, I’ve been a mess.
Up until a few months ago, I was living in Florida, struggling to leave my house for fear of the retaliation I’d receive for the Black Lives Matter sticker on my car and the unapologetic feminism I exude.
I moved to that—better off being a dumping ground for all the guns in America that we then push off into the ocean—state for a job. One that felt like a dream come true. But you know what they say, don’t go meeting your heroes. And I think that applies to companies we love and have followed since we were kids. Maybe we shouldn’t ever work for the organizations we’ve always looked up to. Not unless we want to get our hearts broken.
In the last few months, I’ve realized how little I know
I’m not sure if you’d call this series (and my previous romance-free essays for that matter) an advice column, but who am I to be giving advice? I’m a 28-year-old queer woman not taking her anti-depressants regularly because the side effects seem worse than the negative implications of not taking them. Which, just to be clear, is a desire to stop living.
Now, this isn’t a cry for help. I’m not at risk of hurting myself. I’m just very exhausted from the game we play. The one where we all answer fine when someone asks us how we’re doing. Because, to quote the one and only Taylor Swift, “I might be okay, but I’m not fine at all.”
Whenever I’m feeling like this, I tend to try and circle back to the beginning. And what better way to do so than by focusing this month’s addition on Miss Swift’s very first lesson from her 30 things I learned before turning 30 piece in Elle.
I learned to block some of the noise
While I’m not an international superstar, I am someone who deeply cares what others think of me. And after recently learning that a majority of the humans I spend 40 or so hours a week with don’t totally love me, I had to take a major step back from the world. Which looked like me making silly TikToks, drinking boatloads of iced coffee, and crying so hard my entire chest hurt for days on end.
I’ve always been someone who brings my whole self to the table. I’m unapologetic in how much I care. And I care a lot. I’m constantly beyond shocked that the entire world got up today and did whatever it is we do while a 10-year-old rape victim was told by those in power across the state of Ohio that she needs to birth the fetus that is now inside of her. Despite the fact that she might die doing so.
But not everyone prefers this level of attention. You might say I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. And most days, this truth suits me just fine. But lately—probably because I’m not taking my meds appropriately—it’s been harder than ever to hold. So I’m choosing to shut myself down like an overheating laptop in the summer sun. I’m rebooting if you will. Because the truth is, not everyone deserves my level of care.
I can choose to believe that I am too much for some people. Or I can operate under a different truth. One that allows me to trust that others may just not be enough for all that I am.
This may not be everyone’s preferred method of cutting out the noise. But if you’re anything like me, which means your parents never had to ground you because you were far harder on yourself than they ever could have been on you, this can help lower the volume of the voices in your own head. The things I say to myself are cruel and far worse than anything I’d ever say to someone out loud. So I refuse to rent out space in my own head for others’ opinions of me, especially when I’ve not asked for them.
Do with this what you will. And if getting out of bed feels next to impossible, know that I’m right there with you. If that helps.
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Written by Tori Muzyk
Illustrated by Francesca Mariama
