This blog has always been a safe space for me to reflect, create, and untangle some of the messiness in life, waiting for me when I felt compelled to do so. I truly did not anticipate you all being a part of this journey and touching me as deeply as you have. I started Muted Mouthful three years ago; that fact alone is incredible to me. I have grown so much; the evidence is all right here. This blog has become a living testament to me, something I can, and do, look back on, reflecting on the one inevitable thing in life, change.
The decision to participate in the vaccination process did not come lightly. Truthfully, I am currently balancing on a tight rope of gratitude, privilege, health anxiety, and fear. There’s still so much that is unknown about the vaccines and the virus itself. As an early recipient, I wanted to share my experience openly and honestly. The purpose of this is not to convince you to receive the vaccine or not. As someone that is just like you, fearful, skeptical, concerned, and a host of other feelings/emotions, I want you to have an account from a real person.
The term “vibe” has been in the American vernacular since at least the 60s. A vibe or vibration tends to refer to a feeling or energy you receive or give off. My parents would use the term all the time and tell me to mind other people’s vibes and listen to my gut or don’t let other people influence your vibe. I’ll be honest, that was some sound guidance.
Our parents try to mold us into their image and society tries to ensure we stay in line. The framework you are born into is supposed to fit like a glove, but it doesn’t always. It doesn’t make sense but buried deep inside yourself is a truth that’s longing to break free and you can’t explain why.
This is how I feel about most aspects of my life, but today we’re going to focus on gender.
Do you have trouble facing the mirror? My self-esteem and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye. Sometimes, we’re in sync. I’ll high-five the mirror or give myself a well-deserved wink. Other days, I am sitting on the floor sulking about how hideous I look and how I never want to go outside again.
I hate to say it, but I am a party pooper. Not for your parties, my own. Social anxiety affects many facets of my life; it does not take a break on my birthday.
“I appreciate you, my love. I appreciate that you allow your texts to go unanswered for weeks at a time. I appreciate you giving me space when I feel the walls are closing in on me. I appreciate you forcing your way into my mind when I have been quiet for too long. And I appreciate your reassuring hand when my thoughts tell me to push you away and my actions carry out this order accordingly.”
I am a tragic creative. No, not distressed or sorrowful. I mean tragic in the way that mid-2000’s teens insult you. I am sure you are too; trying to balance creative endeavors, taking care of your physical and mental health, and probably working a full-time job you don’t love.
An anniversary only comes once a year, the love of your life is waiting; the candles, the view, everything MUST be perfect.
How can you feel like your drowning without water? Depression is one way.