I am mentally ill

“To be driven by irrational passions is to be mentally sick.”

I must clarify that the term irrational here, according to the author, is referring to anything which is contrary to human nature, human nature being the natural processes of living life as a human, NATURAL being the key word. (wow that sentence was a duzy)

I LOVE sugar. I want sugar all of the time. Sugar makes me happy. (sad but true) Here’s the thing though, constant consumption and using sugar to implement joy is a reflection of mental illness because a lot of sugar isn’t healthy and joy should NEVER come from a substance. This drive, or irrational passion in my life is a form of mental illness because my mind believes that my body needs sugar but naturally it does not need excess amounts of sugar (all of the time). This is one, and only one example of a mental illness I have.

So why does my mind feel that my body needs excess amounts of sugar? It has become a chemical imbalance in my body due to constant consumption of the heavenly substance, and that isn’t a mental illness (but actually a physical one), however I didn’t start out with a chemical imbalance.

Christmas candy. Just desserts. Warm sugary beverages on cold cold days. Sugary social engagements...

I’ve been raised from childhood with a concept of sugar being a thing that brings joy and causes delight. It’s the marketing of it, the connections that were made in my brain at a very young age between sugar and joy are due to a society that uses sugar to pacify. I think it’s the first pyshc drug we use, way before all those expensive ones enter the picture. So now I am an educated adult with a very realistic concept of sugar as something to be enjoyed sparingly, something that causes cavities, obesity, diabetes, addiction, and various other negative affects on the body when abused. BUT mentally, even unconsciously, I feel that I need sugar (a lot of it all the time). My body tells me it’s something I must have NOW. I try and combat this with the knowledge that I have, BUT my body because of those awesome connections that were made in my brain as a child between sugar and joy, fully believes the opposite of what knowledge is telling me. This is mental illness.

“To be driven by irrational passions is to be mentally sick.”

Halloween and me

I bet I posted this exact same blog last year. Too bad, here I go again. I dont celebrate halloween. I was raised that way but I dont want people to think thats the reason why I've chosen to opt out of a huge holiday that pretty much everyone loves (except the freaks like me and my mother).

I've decided not to be ignorant about the things I do. I mean I want to know where the milk and the eggs and the meat that I eat come from. This decision "to know" has presented hardship for me. I now have to decide whether I am going to spend more money and more time aquiring food that I feel good about eating, or whether I am going to just ignore the truth and consume unhealthy products that have come from horrifically abused LIVING things (animals).

I'm interested in the other things that I spend my money on as well. Where were these items made, who made them, what type of business is selling them and what cost was really put into each THING that I acquire (at as little price as I can possibly aquire it at/ despite the actual cost of human life it's taken to produce)?

What in the world does this have to do with Halloween right? Well I've read alot about Ireland and my ancesters, it's history, traditions and folklore. I love that I'm Irish. I love that people who are responcible for my life lived their lives there. I love learning and knowing about my history, the history before me. In reading and learning all that I can about that wonderful place I've stumbled across alot of the things that made my mom decide not to celebrate halloween.

I know that Halloween is the festival which celebrates the one day in which the spiritual world (underworld) and the physical world (which we are living in) coexist. All those who have passed into the underworld, on this day, halloween, have an opportunity to come back and meet with or haunt those who remain here. The Irish have always been very superstitious (thats what people call it I guess). The problem with these spirits coming back is that if you're still living and you happened to have wronged one of them then you could be in for it. The living people, in fear of retribution, decided that the best thing to do would be to dress up, disguise themselves so that the spirit seeking revenge could not find them. In doing this they were also afforded the opportunity to play tricks on their neighbors, because they were, after all, disguised so no one would know it was them. Trick or treat!

Additionally, my mom let me carve a pumpkin once. It was fun and I felt it the hugest priviledge in all the world because I never got to before that day. BUT, originally pumkins were carved as places for the the wandering spirits to rest on their journey and the light represents the spirit residing in it.

The real problem here is that I do believe in spirits. I believe in hauntings and demons and the underworld (to some degree). I know that witches are real as are curses and spells and I can't really understand celebrating this dark spiritual aspect that is really truely apart of our world.

I think kids dressed in costumes are really super cute, but when I think about the history and the foundation to the costumes that those little kids are wearing on the day that the spiritual world and physical world are supposed to meet, well it sort of makes my stomach churn. I like jack o lanterns, but knowing where and why, knowing that each of those cute or scary or hilarious little pumpkins are ORIGINALLY supposed to have been a home for a traveling spirit, well... I just can't do it.

I know this pisses alot of people off, most people dont want to know where their food comes from or how the holiday they are celebrating originated. The food tastes good and the holiday is fun... but for me, not so much. I don't think demons and witiches and traveling spirits are something to celebrate and make fun with and I can not celebrate halloween.

Also, I appreciate that my mom raised me according to her convictions. I like that she ignored all the MANY MANY people that told her she was being foolish and super religious for not letting us trick or treat. Thank you mom.

(I don't judge people for celebrating this holiday because I realize that pretty much everyone does not see it how I do and I can fully understand that, I just ask that people would not judge me for NOT celebrating this holiday, because they do, and I don't like it, and quite frankly I think it's mean)

James Joyce's "Dubliners"

I love all things Irish and in reading many historical type books about Ireland I’ve heard mention of the great James Joyce many times. (Retraction: I’m not into booze) It took me quite a long time to read this little book by James Joyce (I’ve been so overwhelmed by life lately) but I really enjoyed it. The first two narratives that I read took me for a surprise because they just ended. There was no resolution, and I didn’t see a point to what I’d just read. I was just left there, having consumed a bit of story and then, it stopped. I was prepared for the abrupt absolution while reading the third story, so it didn’t hit me quite as forcefully. During the fourth I decided to figure out the point to these short little, seemingly pointless, writings. Upon reading the entire collection “Dubliners,” I personally didn’t see a message or an overall purpose to the writings. I will declare ignorance and admit naivety. There probably is a message. I probably missed it. The thing I liked about the book though was that the stories were written so well. I liked that I was reading not for a story with a grand revelation intertwined but merely for the writing. The beautiful way the story teller told his tale. The minute detail he managed to pen on paper. I loved the way he described each character and detailed how each interacted. I read the entire book just for the writing not for a message and I loved it.

I believe the Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens to be my favorite novel. I’ve never been able to describe why and I’ve never found a point to the story. Many other great novels have changed my perspective on life and living and have had wonderfully interesting stories but for some reason I always come back to the Pickwick Papers with a greater love than what I have for any of the others. Dubliners seemed much the same to me. I enjoyed the descriptions, the detail, the writing.

Ever since I got back from Guatemala in 2006 I've been fighting with myself. For example I should be working out right now, instead I'm sitting on my butt infront of this glowing screen. Every single time I want anything, I question my motives and wonder at the expense. I don't need anything apart from food and water to survive, and clothing / shelter to protect me from the elements. And all of these I believe I could rather easily obtain if I weren't picky.

I don't need a new frying pan to replace the dingy one in my kitchen. I dont need to spend $4 on coffee in the morning (because it's faster and easier than spending way less and making it myself / even though I actually do not need coffee at all). I don't need new clothing, ever. And the truly sad part of this reality is that although I constantly indulge myself with these wasteful and unecessary consumptions I don't even truly want any of it. I DON'T WANT ANY OF IT! There's something inside of me that's stronger than me, that's driving me to obtain, more and more and MORE, constantly, ceaselessly, at what ever expense necessary and I, ME, I dont even want these things. I am two beings. I am ME, the person who cares and wants to live life and make a difference and impact the world just a little bit AND THEN I am her, a crazy selfish, needy, weak (although stronger than me apparently) horrible, regular American, person who is controlling my life and causing ME to suffocate.

I must make a list.

Me, wants
to read
to create art
to find joy in all the little things
to be healthy
to consume animal byproducts that have been raised humanly on sustainable farms
to not EVER EVER purchase affordable items made by slave labor
to not be in debt
to serisouly dress in rags, I'm not sure why but a part of me really really wants to
to help and love people, all people, everywhere
to not waste ANYTHING, EVER

her, wants
to sit on my butt and do nothing ever (because I deserve to rest)
to just do whats easy and normal (despite the actual cost)
to eat everything and anything and just keep eating more or it
to purchase expensive clothing, just because of the way it feels to have it
to be dumb

I am tired.