I've officially had this blog for over a year! That's quite exciting for me, someone who is notorious for starting blogs and then forgetting about them. There have definitely been lapses with this little blog over the past 12 months, but here I am, 2016 right around the corner, and I'm still writing (even if it is slightly infrequently).
At the risk of sounding quite cliche, 2015 seems to have flown by and yet also seems to have been around forever. It's part of being young, I think. I'm still changing and maturing and finding my place in this world. Therefore, I'm quite a different person at the end of the year than the person I was at the start.  In that respect, last January seems so far off. However, I'm also only 23 years old. I can remember things so vividly that it also doesn't seem that long gone. It just depends on how I'm reflecting on the year for how short or long it feels.
A pessimist trying to be an optimist, I find that reflecting on what's good in my life helps me to be more positive about the present and future. So, as one year comes to a close and another one begins, I want to reflect on and say goodbye to the wonderful moments and experiences that marked my 2015. Therefore, I'll step into 2016 with confidence, excitement, and preparation to create more great memories.

I'm all too familiar with anxiety, but I still felt the need to look up a definition before I began writing about it. See, I'm a bit hypocritical when it comes to mental health. There's this horrible stigma around discussing mental illness. People don't talk about it and act like it's a thing to be kept hidden and locked away in a box. However, there's nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to a person's mental health and it can sometimes be very beneficial to discuss it. Some of my favorite books, The Bell Jar and It's Kind of a Funny Story to name a few, are my favorites because of their openness and honesty when it comes to mental health. Yet, while I know and appreciate an open dialogue on mental illness, I don't like to throw my own voice into the mix. I'd rather keep my mental health hidden in a box. But that isn't healthy; I'm instead feeding the stigma and making myself more miserable by not being honest with anyone around me. So, here it goes. Here goes the first step towards being honest about my mental health.

Mental illness, especially depression, runs in my family, and I know genetics can play a part in someone's mental health. From a young age, I've seen mental illness immobilize family members and harm relationships and people. I always understood the severity of mental illness. I was never one to think that depression was just "sadness" people could "snap out of." It's a very real thing. I was, however, a mentally healthy child and teenager. Then, I hit my 20s. I had my first panic attack when I was 21 years old, the day after I graduated college. A boy had discovered my true feelings for him and, when he addressed it, it felt like my lungs had collapsed. I was gasping and not gaining any oxygen. I couldn't focus on anything but the dread. The dread and the uncertainty and the vulnerability. It filled me up so fully that I couldn't even focus on breathing. When I was finally able to pull myself out of the attack, I wasn't even sure what had happened at first. I only realized later, after talking with a friend, that I'd had a panic attack.

It's been over two years since that first panic attack. And the first was not my last. I have an anxiety or panic attack every three or four months. Sometimes they're on a small scale and sometimes they're overwhelming. Sometimes I recover quickly and sometimes I'm burdened all day by feeling it coming and the aftershocks when it ends. I had an anxiety attack yesterday and traces of it are still lingering today.

My anxiety fluctuates. It's manageable and then, suddenly, it isn't. There is sometimes a thing happening in my life that will set it off, but other times it just arrives. The latter is what happened this past Sunday. I'd had a relaxing Sunday and had every reason to be excited for the week ahead. Instead, I felt very anxious. For me, anxiety feels like I've only had coffee all day and no food. My heart rate feels accelerated and its pounding feels forceful in my chest. I feel slightly short of breath but not to the point that it actually affects my breathing. It instead just makes me unsettled and paranoid. A lump forms at the base of my throat. These feelings will last for hours, days. It makes me uncomfortable in my own skin and my brain remains on overdrive trying to find the source of my anxiety or to rationalize it if I know the source. That's my anxiety.

So, I went into yesterday already struggling with my anxiety, even though I had nothing to blame for it. Then, I was informed a part on my car needed to be repaired. It would cost almost $600. This has been one of a few expensive repairs and routine fixes my car has needed in the past few months. I don't make enough to be financially stable with these added expenses. Not even close. Learning of the new cost pushed my anxiety over the edge. The lump in my throat rose higher and I actually was struggling to breathe. And then the tears came. I wasn't in a place I could let tears fall freely, so I had to compose myself rather quickly (and luckily I've learned some tactics to push through an attack, like counting in my head, making lists to help me sort through my thoughts, or really focusing on my breathing). The rush of anxiety that came with the attack left me physically lethargic. The intensity of the worry and unease I had felt had shot through all my energy.

While this attack came from a source, some of my anxiety doesn't (like how I felt on Sunday and still today). Since anxiety is something I've only been dealing with over the past few years, I still find it very difficult to validate to myself or others. I've had friends actually tell me in the past that I wasn't as "fucked up" as they were, which is a horrible thing to say because it left me very insecure about the validity of my feelings and mental health. However, the friend had a point. I've seen how dark anxiety and depression can be, and I'm not in that deep... yet. Mental illness is an illness. Left untreated or ignored, it can get worse. And that's why I also find it difficult to talk about with friends and family or admit to myself: I'm scared. I know how serious it can be. I don't want this; I want to be mentally healthy. But I can't become mentally healthy until I'm admit that I need to do something about my anxiety.

So, there. I've put it in writing. I'm struggling with anxiety. This can be the first step towards working through it because I still have progress to make. I could be honest with my friends and family. I could seek professional help (something I haven't done equally out of fear and financial reasons). I can keep learning ways to cope and set aside more time for self-care. All I know is I want to be stronger than the anxiety. There's a lot of uncertainty in my life right now as a young 20something starting her career and adult life. That uncertainty has definitely fed the worry, nervousness and unease. As the definition states, these feelings normally arise from "something with an uncertain outcome." My whole life is uncertain. But I will make it through this time in my life. Some things will become more certain. So, I just need to remember that when the anxiety is trying to swallow my insides. And if I can't, I need to be brave enough to ask for help because my mental health is important. My anxiety doesn't have to control me, and I won't let it.

In 2010, I left the town I'd grown up in and moved two and a half hours east to attend university. At first, this new city didn't feel like home. Home was still that place I'd lived for eighteen years. However, time passed and I spent longer periods of time in this new city. Eventually it was no longer new to me. Soon it became the place I lived year round. I built a life and a home in this new city.

I've now lived in that city for five and a half years. It is definitely home. It's where I feel comfortable. It's where I return to. However, while the city is home, the university I attended in the city is just as much my home. I spent four years of my life there and that school shaped me in countless ways. And it's a place I wasn't quite ready to leave behind upon graduation. For the past year and a half, I've been working in a position at the university. I'm still on campus everyday. I still frequent a lot of the places I frequented as a student. The university is just as much my home as the city.

Throughout my four years in school, I maintained the same job at the on-campus recreation center. That job helped me come into my own, gave me so much self-confidence, and helped me meet some of my best friends. The place matters quite a lot to me and left a mark on me.

A few weeks ago, I had to go to the recreation center for one of my job tasks. I still know the building's policies and layout like the back of my hand and always feel extremely comfortable there. So, I was shocked when I stepped into the building recently and felt uncomfortable. I didn't know any of the people working there. I was treated like a stranger.

Something about the experience didn't sit well with me. There was nothing wrong with how I was treated, but I no longer had that familiarity in the place that is so familiar to me. Only later did I realize that I was upset because I was jealous and felt devalued.

I spent four years at the recreation center. I was good at my job and I always worked hard to be the best I could. I gave so much to that job and, as I've already said, it gave me a lot in return. It had left a very noticeable mark on me during very formative years of me, but it had left me behind. I hadn't left a mark.

The facility has evolved. There is new equipment, new policies, new employees. I can't expect my mark to stay behind. For a few days, it was hard for me to digest that I had become anonymous to this place, but then I realized how ridiculous and silly that is.

As a society, we have this fascination with making a mark and leaving behind a legacy. We want to be remembered. While I get it (and have definitely been a victim of this mentality), I've realized recently that that's not what we should be fascinated with. We should instead be fascinated with how things leave a mark on us, how things can change us for the better.

Yes, the recreation center and the job I had there have left a mark on me and the mark I left there was fleeting. I've accepted that. I'm okay with that. And I think that's a good thing.

While my lineage has lived in the United States for many generations, I am very interested and proud of my Scottish heritage. When I was traveling in Scotland a few years ago, I became enamored with the country and, subsequently, my ancestors from there. I did research, traced back my lineage, and discovered some pretty amazing things (like the fact that my ancestor who came to America did so by boat, and the ship docked in the city I now live in—what?!). One of my favorite tidbits I’ve learned since researching my ancestry was discovering which Scottish clan my family had originated from.

 

My ancestors descend from the Fergusson clan. The clan’s motto is “Dulcius ex asperis (Sweeter after difficulties).” I love this motto so much that I now have a keychain with the saying on it. It’s a great reminder to deal with the ebbs and flows of life. This little phrase reminds me of two things. First, the sweeter parts of life are even sweeter after difficulties. By contrast, it makes these sweet parts of life easier to appreciate. Second, difficulties do not last forever. The sweetness will come.

I’ve really had to consciously remind myself of that second part recently. I’m amidst one of the difficulties of my life currently. I’m in less-than-ideal conditions and am facing countless rejections with things I’m aiming for to shape my life in a way I’d prefer. I’m unfulfilled, stuck, lonely, and terrified that not only are those that have rejected me correct in thinking I don’t have any more to offer the world than what I already offer now, but also that I’ll never progress much more than where I am now.

I know these are ridiculous, irrational thoughts for a 22-year-old girl near the beginning of her adult life. Yet I still become crippled with these emotions and thoughts far too often. And then I catch glimpses of my keychain as I start my car or unlock my house.

Sweeter after difficulty.

Things will change.

These difficulties will stop being difficult and good things will come. And the good will seem all the sweeter because of this time in my life. The solace that these words provide makes the $6 keychain money well spent and me proud of my heritage’s ties to the Fergusson clan.

Alright, Taylor, let’s do this.

For the sake of being honest, this isn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows and me gushing about how “I’ve loved you since day one.” Because I didn’t. I actually used to kinda hate you. Don’t worry; I’ve since realized what a horrible choice that was.

When you first broke onto the music scene, your music was fine. I enjoyed it, but that was about it. The Fearless album is when I finally became really captivated by your music. “Hey Stephen” was my anthem (even though I have never had a crush on someone named Stephen) and I’ve cried while listening to “Best Day” more times than I’d like to admit. My sister had the Fearless album and I “borrowed” (read: stole) it from her so that I listened to it more than she did. She eventually just gave it to me.

I was (and still am) a diehard Jonas Brothers fan, Taylor. You dated Joe Jonas. Then, as people who aren’t right for each other do, you guys broke up and you said Joe did so during a 30-second phone call. It made Joe sound like a jerk. And Joe couldn’t be a jerk. He was a sweet, precious and pure Jonas Brother. (Forgive me. I was a stupid teenager who literally thought this way.)

I chose a side. Joe’s side. Because as a fan who had never met either of you nor knew the details of your relationship at all, I totally had the right to pick a side. So, while I could appreciate the excellence of Fearless, I stopped liking you. I complained about you during award shows and told friends that liked you that you “weren’t that great” and “totally lied about Joe.” (I promise, I cringe thinking about my actions.)

Speak Now came out and the girls in my dorm LOVED it and you. I couldn’t escape you or your music. And your music is excellent. Even when I was Team Joe, I could never allow myself to totally hate on your music. And Speak Now was great, too. I found myself loving your music again and having Taylor Swift karaoke sessions with my dorm mates but stating that I still didn’t like you. However, behind closed doors, my dislike for you was waning. I held up this façade of not really liking you for about six months and then couldn’t keep up the act anymore. I was a Taylor Swift fan again.

Before we go any further, I feel like I should apologize, Taylor. I was a silly, naïve and immature teenager who thought I had the right to judge someone I’d never met and pass judgments on situations involving that person. When someone is in the public eye, people (including myself) often get this false sense of really knowing the person and their life and having the right to know this information. In hindsight, your relationship with Joe and how strongly I reacted to it helped me to realize that it isn’t any of my damn business. I don’t know you. I don’t know Joe. The media are A+ manipulators and can make you and other celebrities look a completely different way than who you authentically are. So, I should never think that I know you or any celebrity I don’t know personally. Plus, it isn’t my business. It is your private life, and, while paparazzi invade your privacy and pull some of it into the public light, it is still your private life. Thinking I know what is going on in it is ridiculously egotistical of me. Don’t worry, Taylor, I’ve learned my lesson. This is the first thing I’ve somehow learned from you and how you’ve helped shape me into a better person.

By the time that “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” dropped, I was an indifferent Swiftie. I was a fan but not a fan. I remember sitting on my housemate’s bed from 11:45 p.m. until midnight the night the single premiered on iTunes because we were just so excited to buy it (and then listen to it about 500 times). Then, Red came out and holy crap. To this day, it’s still my favorite album of yours and one of my favorite albums of all time. My housemates and I went and saw you in September 2013 on your Red Tour. I’d originally paid almost $100 for a ticket because Ed Sheeran was the opening act (and Ed was and is my favorite musician on the planet), but by the end of the show, you’d been the one to make it money well spent (not that Ed wasn’t fantastic. He was, but I’d seen him live before. And your show is just a whole other level of cool with the sets, costumes, etc.).

After that show, there was no looking back. You’ve become someone I admire. Not only is your music consistently amazing (1989, anyone?) but your style has provided me with inspiration. From a public perspective, you really seemed to have come into yourself recently and that confidence and self-comfort is having such an impact on so many millions of people all over the world (including myself).

So, Taylor, I haven’t been the most faithful fan, but I definitely am now. And thank you for gifting the world with not only creating great music but also being someone who people can look up to as a role model. You’ve taught me so much and helped me to become a better, happier me. So, here’s a few personal thank you’s…

Thank you for teaching me it’s okay to take risks. It started with being brave enough to try red lipstick after you wore it so boldly and bravely, but it’s evolved into far more than that.

Thank you for reminding to value women. You’ve become quite a feminist, and I love it. You continually talk about how women need to support each other, and you visibly do so.

Thanks for encouraging me to be a better friend. In addition to just supporting women in general, you are always gushing about your lady friends. From doing photoshoots with your bff Karlie to making the "Bad Blood" music video with a bunch of your pals. You always seem to be so supportive and involved with your friends, and it makes me aspire to do the same.

Thank you for making me feel like I can do anything. There’s a quote from New Girl that is meant as a joke, but I still love it. It is "If Taylor Swift can live alone in New York, just think what you can do!" It's true. You've achieved some amazing things. You've followed your heart and gone after what you want, and I definitely want to get better with that.

Thank you providing me a soundtrack to listen to when I’m happy, sad, angry, and everything in between. In the car, dancing around my room, jamming in my headphones at work... your music is perfect in any situation.

Thank you for never being afraid to say what you think in a society that has often ridiculed you for doing so. You've become quite well-known for writing songs about boys and calling them out. That takes guts in the first place, but you've received hate for it additionally. Finally, you stopped putting up with it and called out the media. That takes additional guts. I pride myself on being a Gryffindor, but I'm still pretty cowardly sometimes. You make me want to be braver.

Thank you for giving me the confidence to be myself. You (at least) seem to be yourself, no matter how risky it might be. Even though country music is what first brought about all your success, you switched from the country to pop music genre when you felt like it was more authentic to who you are now. I want to be confident in myself, no matter what.

Even though I don’t know you personally, you’ve impacted my life in ways that I could never repay. So, even though you’ll never read this, this is my attempt at getting out some of the ways you’ve positively changed my life and thanking you. Thank you, Taylor.

Love,
Hannah

Sweet summertime has arrived and, as it always does, a sense of hope has seemed to follow. A feeling that I need to be doing things, need to put myself out there, need to strive for all those things that I want but have become disheartened by. Summer has this way of fooling us that it is the most optimistic season and the season of new beginnings simply because it is warm outside. I'm calling bullshit, summer. And yet, even though I know things are just as likely to happen and life is just as grand during the other three seasons, I'm still like a giddy teenager when that first wave of summer hits.

I am a firm believer in the "treat yo self" mentality, the belief that you've done something worth rewarding yourself for. You then get to enjoy not only your accomplishment, but also this new reward, whatever that might be. Some might find it petty or materialistic, but something new is known to do wonders to brighten my mood.

I bought a new dress the other week that I've had my eye on for awhile, and it finally came in the mail this weekend.