Sonder (v.)

Self-care is often a very unbeautiful thing. It is making a spreadsheet of your debt and enforcing a morning routine and cooking yourself healthy meals and no longer just running from your problems and calling the distraction a solution. It is often doing the ugliest thing that you have to do, like sweat through another workout or tell a toxic friend you don’t want to see them anymore or get a second job so you can have a savings account or figure out a way to accept yourself so that you’re not constantly exhausted from trying to be everything, all the time and then needing to take deliberate, mandated breaks from living to do basic things like drop some oil into a bath and read Marie Claire and turn your phone off for the day. A world in which self-care has to be such a trendy topic is a world that is sick. Self-care should not be something we resort to because we are so absolutely exhausted that we need some reprieve from our own relentless internal pressure. True se

Our souls float across the sea of life, in vessels made of blood and bone, taking on water as they go, occasionally sinking ever so slightly — perhaps even imperceptibly — into despair and decline. It is the hell of life’s long autumn, an elegiac march to our inevitable decay into the earth that birthed us. In spring and summer, if we choose to, we shine as warm and bright as we ever will, all boundless energy and burning desire, and humanity is all too eager to cozy up next to us to bask in our glow, should we let them? Love is humanity’s ultimate pursuit, most innate instinct save for survival itself, and most relentlessly researched, opined, romanticized and prized condition. It is the noun and the verb, the yin and the yang. It is the gods upon which we’ve built our churches, and the art which paints our progress. It is socialized, cultivated, and unique within the self and between the afflicted. Distilled to its essence: It is a ritualistic, highly coveted, goal-directed firin

Just like Robin S. Sharma said, “As you move outside of your comfort zone, what was once the unknown and frightening becomes your new normal.“ Solo travelling made my self quality increased, especially about panic management and how to stick with your own schedule. It made my perception and perspectives goes wider and broader, because I met so many people from around the world with their own stories, and somehow their stories inspired me and it gave some new ideas, insights and goals for myself. Plus I slept at hostel with six bunkbeds— like literally my roommates changed every single day. You will know your nation’s disadvantages and at the same you’ll know why your country is where you belong. You will have so many great stories to be shared with your beloved family and friends. Because I was traveling alone I realized that I have such a strong mental when it comes to facing pressures (mostly because of my own stupidity 😂 ). I gave myself five stars for my panic management BE

The things that are lingering  Around the city right now  Is unsettling - like mindful shadows creeping  I hope everyone  Finds some type of happiness that stays with them Even for a little bit To truly appreciate the good when life goes sour And understand that you can feel so much in so many different ways ;  The sun sets and rise,  Set and rise

re·sil·ient (Adj.) rə ˈ zilyənt 1. (of a person) able to withstand or recover quickly from difficult conditions. synonyms: strong, tough, hardy; quick to recover, buoyant, irrepressible 2. (of a substance or object) able to recoil or spring back into shape after bending, stretching, or being compressed. synonyms: flexible, pliable, supple; durable, hardwearing, stout, strong, sturdy, tough One of my close friend said that I have this trait; resilient. “Meriel, you are resilient as fuck. Whatever it is you will always rebuild and you will be stronger because of it. I have seen you go through awful things and it always amazes me how you always come out of it better, more beautiful and somehow not as cynical as most would be.” I just realized—now that I look back to my past—yes, I am that tough. At least I believe that I am that tough. I am so grateful to have someone who can remind me of this kind of thing- reminding me how beautiful human being I can be.

I feel nervous about everything all the time. It’s hard for me to relax in the moments I am supposed to relax because the awareness of all the things I have to be nervous about is like a lightning crack in the way that it is impossible to pay attention to any other thing. In the way it fills up a room. There is a vulgarity to all this nervousness, and I’m nervous about that too, because it represents a specific and objective kind of failure — a metric that lays bare the way I am not as I should be. I hold my breath when someone throws shades on me. I wanted to crawl into a deep, dark space inside myself and die like a stray cat you find under your porch weeks later and only because it has started to smell. I feel like I have fallen asleep on the train and woken up somewhere strange, where I don’t know the customs. I am a foreigner and all I can do is marvel at this breathtaking difference in the gravity we feel about a story about a woman who isn’t me — whether it is light-hea