I stumbled upon this poem tonight, and felt compelled to post it, given my recent life events. It's written by Edna St. Vincent Millay, a very famous American writer, and the first female poet to win the Pullitzer Prize for Poetry. Her poems are very lyrical and honest, which I love. It's a beautiful poem...even for those of you who view poetry as homework or lame ;)
Well, I have lost you; and I lost you fairly;
In my own way, and with my full consent.
Say what you will, kings in a tumbrel rarely
Went to their deaths more proud than this one went.
Some nights of apprehension and hot weeping
I will confess; but that's permitted me;
Day dried my eyes; I was not one for keeping
Rubbed in a cage a wing that would be free.
If I had loved you less or played you slyly
I might have held you for a summer more,
But at the cost of words I value highly,
And no such summer as the one before.
Should I outlive this anguish—and men do—
I shall have only good to say of you.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Sunday, June 08, 2008
I Think, Therefore I Am...Cursed?
In a letter of recommendation to a doctoral school I was considering, my psychology professor wrote, verbatim, that he would "easily place me in the top 5% of students I have ever taught." I graduated college with a 3.92 GPA, inducting me into Phi Beta Kappa, the oldest and most prestigious honor society in the United States. At age 15, I was one of the youngest poets to qualify for the high school poetry contest, yet won first place. I was offered a highly coveted copywriting internship my very first quarter at advertising school, yet dismissed and declined it instantly (for various reasons). I barely weight 100 lbs., yet never feel thin enough. People praise my smile, or blue eyes; they envy my all-natural, D-cup chest that manages to defy my petite, barely 100 lb. frame.
Am I saying all this because I'm obnoxiously vain, proud and conceited? No. I say this because I'm quite the opposite: insecure, anxious and fragile.
See, ever since I was a little girl touting side ponytails, polka-dot leggings and Troll Doll headbands (hey, they were cool...kind of), I've been afflicted with microscopic self-esteem. Or, perhaps a more accurate way to describe it is a self-esteem that perpetually oscillates...weekly, daily, hourly.
I think too much. I think that I think too much. I think I should think less. I think, then I think some more, then I think I should stop thinking...so I think about stop thinking...but that just makes it even harder to stop thinking. My mind is like a manic hamster on a wheel...except, it can't decide which direction to go...so it constantly changes its mind, analyzing each decision then immediately regretting that decision...eventually, the hamster becomes so anxious about decisions, choices, thoughts...that it paralyzes itself into motionless indecision.
Anxiety is a real bitch. She really is. And depression is its ugly cousin...you know, the one with the weird teeth and awkward jokes, but you laugh anyways out of familial obligation and pity. I joke...but it's actually quite serious. I look at people who are seemingly normal, content, laid back...and I observe them with both envy and foreign, anthropologic curiousity: how do they do it? What's their secret?
A psychology professor once told me that depressed/anxious people actually see the world through a more accurate lense than mentally healthy ones. According to him, and other psychologists, in order to be mentally healthy one must adopt a certain "rose-colored glasses" mentality. In other words, one must trick the mind into being optimistic. Therefore, if I do find myself genuinely happy or content...I know the feeling is fleeting, and that I'm living in denial of my inner darkness. God, I sound so emo...
Do I see the glass half full? No. But do I see it half empty? Not really. The bigger question is: what kind of cheap wine is in the glass? :) Again, I joke, but I have to. Laughter saves me.
I think there's enough rambling here to entertain and confuse the majority...so I bid you all farewell. Rachel, out!
--Rach
Am I saying all this because I'm obnoxiously vain, proud and conceited? No. I say this because I'm quite the opposite: insecure, anxious and fragile.
See, ever since I was a little girl touting side ponytails, polka-dot leggings and Troll Doll headbands (hey, they were cool...kind of), I've been afflicted with microscopic self-esteem. Or, perhaps a more accurate way to describe it is a self-esteem that perpetually oscillates...weekly, daily, hourly.
I think too much. I think that I think too much. I think I should think less. I think, then I think some more, then I think I should stop thinking...so I think about stop thinking...but that just makes it even harder to stop thinking. My mind is like a manic hamster on a wheel...except, it can't decide which direction to go...so it constantly changes its mind, analyzing each decision then immediately regretting that decision...eventually, the hamster becomes so anxious about decisions, choices, thoughts...that it paralyzes itself into motionless indecision.
Anxiety is a real bitch. She really is. And depression is its ugly cousin...you know, the one with the weird teeth and awkward jokes, but you laugh anyways out of familial obligation and pity. I joke...but it's actually quite serious. I look at people who are seemingly normal, content, laid back...and I observe them with both envy and foreign, anthropologic curiousity: how do they do it? What's their secret?
A psychology professor once told me that depressed/anxious people actually see the world through a more accurate lense than mentally healthy ones. According to him, and other psychologists, in order to be mentally healthy one must adopt a certain "rose-colored glasses" mentality. In other words, one must trick the mind into being optimistic. Therefore, if I do find myself genuinely happy or content...I know the feeling is fleeting, and that I'm living in denial of my inner darkness. God, I sound so emo...
Do I see the glass half full? No. But do I see it half empty? Not really. The bigger question is: what kind of cheap wine is in the glass? :) Again, I joke, but I have to. Laughter saves me.
I think there's enough rambling here to entertain and confuse the majority...so I bid you all farewell. Rachel, out!
--Rach
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