I had surgery on April 19th. Surgery that required 8 weeks of liquid diet afterwards. I was told I would lose about 20-25 pounds. I've lost almost double and it has weighed on my mind more than just hunger.
Food is a habit, for some it is a habit practiced too much, for others they choose not to eat. Those people are interesting. That is a mental disorder. The constant need to feel skinny by anxiety forced onto them by the media. Anxiety and paranoia are interestingly related to food and eating disorders. Right down to if someone is watching you eat or not. How you eat, what you eat and how much of what you eat. People go through drives thrus and sit in vehicles because they don't want any constant scrutiny that they super sized a meal. People don't eat much because they think skinnier is healthier.
Me? I know much about diet now. What I learned is a liquid fast is better than nothing, but can have long term effects. It is almost like a state of being bipolar. I've never experienced mood swings.
Drastic weight loss and stress have resulted in my anxiety being skyrocketed. Don't feel like doing much, can't exercise because I will lose more weight.
The miss of the crunch of chips, even the shitty feeling of eating a burger. I've missed it all. And when eating is one of your vices. It is hard to make up for it. My grandfather dying was a great stressor that I couldn't handle. Didn't know how to handle it without some habitual behaviour. Was hungry, but couldn't eat. Since anxiety carries a lot of rhythm to it. I knew something was wrong, I could not fix it.
Now 7 weeks in, I'm frustrated, I'm anxious, I'm no longer hungry. It is a constant state of insatiability now. It is making me aware how important food is to the mind. Quite literally.
Society shows that people should be skinny or else they are made fun of. I am at the skinniest I have been. I have never felt less healthy in my life. I needed that actual feeling of eating to release endorphins. That nasty yet rewarding feeling of crushing a burger.
The anxiety is eating me alive until next Friday
Food is necessary for human survival and healthy living.
Being a creature of habit, triggers are no longer possible to avoid.
The feeling of not being able to eat does not leave much meaning to what you are doing.
Regards,
Devon
This is my life, contains anxiety and the constant struggle with the unknown.
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Monday, May 20, 2013
The affects of love and relationships on anxiety
Love, heart, miss. All of these people say daily to their loved ones. How can you really tell the magnitude of those words. How they affect a persons mind? How they affect a persons heart? P
Love is important. Comfort. Security and wealth in a way. Wealth in love of those around you does more for me than money. Those around me build a shield. They support me at my lowest. They've dragged me out of the mud many of times. Times I couldn't deal, they know when to hug.
Anxiety is a different being. A person who suffers it can say the same thing. It affects your relationships in an almost surreal way. It changes you, the dynamic of everyone around you. In almost 2 splits. You go from friends to they separate from you so they don't have to deal with it, or they can't deal with it.
The other side is they have sympathy, they have empathy. They try to help you. Try to force and motivate you out of your funk. Those are the people you need to surround yourself with.
I neglected to mention those people who say "you have no reason to be anxious, or those who say anxiety is for weak minds"
Love is a big word. I love my parents, my family, my fiancée, my friends and even the strangers I've never met who wanted to know a little bit about me.
As an anxiety sufferer I constantly strain the relationship with everyone around me. I over complicate things and begin to get paranoid. It borders on insanity. But, it opens my eyes and makes me learn to love when someone says they love me. They miss me.
The people around me will never know how much I owe to them for putting up with my pure frustration and anger. I am unable to express it clearly. I don't know how. You can't put a word big enough for the gratitude of those around you.
Anxiety is never consistent. Is never constant. I've been a mess the last week or so. My family has been with me every step of the way. Love affects in many a positive way.
Without them, I would have no support. I would be eaten alive my by anxiety and probably wouldn't be here. Learn to love those around you regardless of the shit that has happened. Grudges only make the anxiety worse. Build a clear support system. Try to eliminate those sources who try to minimalize your anxiety. Talk about it with the ones you love. That's something I never did. I let anxiety eat me for 2-3 years because I thought I was weak to talk about it with the ones I love.
Don't be afraid to talk to people about anxiety. I love you all, thanks for reading.
Regards,
Devon.
Love is important. Comfort. Security and wealth in a way. Wealth in love of those around you does more for me than money. Those around me build a shield. They support me at my lowest. They've dragged me out of the mud many of times. Times I couldn't deal, they know when to hug.
Anxiety is a different being. A person who suffers it can say the same thing. It affects your relationships in an almost surreal way. It changes you, the dynamic of everyone around you. In almost 2 splits. You go from friends to they separate from you so they don't have to deal with it, or they can't deal with it.
The other side is they have sympathy, they have empathy. They try to help you. Try to force and motivate you out of your funk. Those are the people you need to surround yourself with.
I neglected to mention those people who say "you have no reason to be anxious, or those who say anxiety is for weak minds"
Love is a big word. I love my parents, my family, my fiancée, my friends and even the strangers I've never met who wanted to know a little bit about me.
As an anxiety sufferer I constantly strain the relationship with everyone around me. I over complicate things and begin to get paranoid. It borders on insanity. But, it opens my eyes and makes me learn to love when someone says they love me. They miss me.
The people around me will never know how much I owe to them for putting up with my pure frustration and anger. I am unable to express it clearly. I don't know how. You can't put a word big enough for the gratitude of those around you.
Anxiety is never consistent. Is never constant. I've been a mess the last week or so. My family has been with me every step of the way. Love affects in many a positive way.
Without them, I would have no support. I would be eaten alive my by anxiety and probably wouldn't be here. Learn to love those around you regardless of the shit that has happened. Grudges only make the anxiety worse. Build a clear support system. Try to eliminate those sources who try to minimalize your anxiety. Talk about it with the ones you love. That's something I never did. I let anxiety eat me for 2-3 years because I thought I was weak to talk about it with the ones I love.
Don't be afraid to talk to people about anxiety. I love you all, thanks for reading.
Regards,
Devon.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
The effect of death on an anxious person
Can't sleep
Don't eat
Can't eat solids
Don't drink
Feel dehydrated
Apathetic
Empathetic
Sympathetic
Don't want to sleep
I hear my grandfather's voice all but 2 weeks ago.
Hear him say he can't wait to go to my wedding, and play crib with me... Sometime after his surgery that was scheduled today.
How does one handle such a sudden death? 85 years of battling and kicking ass at life. He was taken, swiftly and what I feel is unjustly. He battled everyday of his life. For his family. He made the decision to stop drinking for more life, more laughs. At the end of life. All you can hope is you live a life full of love, he did. Live a life where you battled for someone, something. He did.
Why at 85 years 8 months do I feel that it was unjust to take him?
I'm still in disbelief, I thought he would live until 90-100. Living everyday just as stubborn as the last. It eats at me. He battled for us, we showed it. He lives through my family still. I've been heavily medicated through caffeine and painkillers from my surgery.
Which my aftercare is shot. I was irresponsible and didnt care about aftercare. I wanted to be there for my family, I thought I did well enough. Selfless and trying, it amounted to relationships built, I hope.
It makes me anxious about my own life. My thoughts on the times I thought about ending it. It is overwhelming the impact that would've had on my family.
I'm slowly reverting into a misanthrope, an angry person. It is the most common emotion after sadness from grieving. It is a natural cycle. One that isn't fair to life.
I can't go visit him. I can't do the little things like lift his walker in and out of the vehicle. Talk to him about speaking Cree. Which I had planned on since the age of 7. 14 years I had to indulge myself in his stories. Thought I would have time, lost track of time. I never did. I think that is why I want to talk, and won't ever end the conversation first when I am talking with people. Hang onto those moments when a conversation goes too long.
My final words to him were "never going to say bye, grandpa. I'll say see you later."
I saw him later. Pale, in suspenders, with his glasses on. Seeing some of me in the reflection of his glasses. Waiting for him to get up into his favourite chair and try to engage a conversation deep enough that you don't leave. Regardless of how lifeless he looked. He in a way told his story when you saw him at peace. You could live the life he lived by touching his face.
As naive as it sounds. I felt he was in the room celebrating life, how he wanted us to.
It is the only thing that brings semblance to this mess I am trying to live through. I have a picture of him, me and my godfather, charred and composting in Kinuso somewhere. The only picture I have with him.
I carry you with me grandpa, My Mushom, my friend, my elder. You taught me so much about the meaning of life when you died.
This blogpost is to get some feelings out.
Regards,
Devon
Don't eat
Can't eat solids
Don't drink
Feel dehydrated
Apathetic
Empathetic
Sympathetic
Don't want to sleep
I hear my grandfather's voice all but 2 weeks ago.
Hear him say he can't wait to go to my wedding, and play crib with me... Sometime after his surgery that was scheduled today.
How does one handle such a sudden death? 85 years of battling and kicking ass at life. He was taken, swiftly and what I feel is unjustly. He battled everyday of his life. For his family. He made the decision to stop drinking for more life, more laughs. At the end of life. All you can hope is you live a life full of love, he did. Live a life where you battled for someone, something. He did.
Why at 85 years 8 months do I feel that it was unjust to take him?
I'm still in disbelief, I thought he would live until 90-100. Living everyday just as stubborn as the last. It eats at me. He battled for us, we showed it. He lives through my family still. I've been heavily medicated through caffeine and painkillers from my surgery.
Which my aftercare is shot. I was irresponsible and didnt care about aftercare. I wanted to be there for my family, I thought I did well enough. Selfless and trying, it amounted to relationships built, I hope.
It makes me anxious about my own life. My thoughts on the times I thought about ending it. It is overwhelming the impact that would've had on my family.
I'm slowly reverting into a misanthrope, an angry person. It is the most common emotion after sadness from grieving. It is a natural cycle. One that isn't fair to life.
I can't go visit him. I can't do the little things like lift his walker in and out of the vehicle. Talk to him about speaking Cree. Which I had planned on since the age of 7. 14 years I had to indulge myself in his stories. Thought I would have time, lost track of time. I never did. I think that is why I want to talk, and won't ever end the conversation first when I am talking with people. Hang onto those moments when a conversation goes too long.
My final words to him were "never going to say bye, grandpa. I'll say see you later."
I saw him later. Pale, in suspenders, with his glasses on. Seeing some of me in the reflection of his glasses. Waiting for him to get up into his favourite chair and try to engage a conversation deep enough that you don't leave. Regardless of how lifeless he looked. He in a way told his story when you saw him at peace. You could live the life he lived by touching his face.
As naive as it sounds. I felt he was in the room celebrating life, how he wanted us to.
It is the only thing that brings semblance to this mess I am trying to live through. I have a picture of him, me and my godfather, charred and composting in Kinuso somewhere. The only picture I have with him.
I carry you with me grandpa, My Mushom, my friend, my elder. You taught me so much about the meaning of life when you died.
This blogpost is to get some feelings out.
Regards,
Devon
Thursday, May 2, 2013
My Eulogy for my Mushom (Grandpa)
How do I put into words what it means you are gone, grandpa? How do I accurately say what you've done for my family?
You were the head cheese, the glue for this family. You were how everyone managed day to day. Knowing you we're are home, watching sports. Making bets and drinking tea. Scratching tickets and waiting for the phone call. How everyone had to yell for you to hear them. You were wise, you were strong and you were a warrior. I know you are a crib player, a conversationalist and a hell of a Cree speaker.
I regret never being able to speak to you in Cree, never taking advantage of the fact you speak it clearly and concise. I always said " oh, I'll go see him next month and start learning." I never got that opportunity. I never got the chance to say tansi, even. Never got to play crib, I promised you I would come play crib with you at the end of April. Instead, I have to help bury you.
You hated grudges, you hated the constant bickering, you wanted your kids and grand kids to unite as a family and stay strong. That message was lost through the years. I'm very sad it took your passing to remind us how strong we can be as a family.
I hear your voice, every time I think about you. Asking me about my girlfriend. Telling me how excited you were to come to my wedding. You'll be there, one way or the other Mushom. You are the reason I battle through my anxiety and pain. You were a true warrior. You had even died and came back to life, battled tuberculosis, alcoholism, multiple bouts of pneumonia, and COPD. You were an inspiration. You were one hell of a stubborn man. Stubborn as a mule doesn't even cut it. You knew nothing could take you out. I am living the same way. Stubborn enough that you came back to life and still kicked its ass for 10 more years.
You always bet 4 dollars on sports select , bought 8 scratch tickets, but never 10,
Because 10 never win you any money. I still see you sitting in your chair, swearing at the TV because Indianapolis screwed you over.
You were the only one who recognized my voice on the phone right away. Talked to Anyone who wanted to list and fight for what's right.
You never wanted to die alone Mushom (Grandpa) and you didn't. For the time that I was alive you always had one of your kids holding s grudge and not talking to you over something. In the past 3 months. You had every kid and grand kid talking to you. With love and appreciation. You never died alone. We all love you. You carry our love and you carry
We always will love you, and you are still with us. You live through all of us.
We are going to struggle to find an identity, a true meaning to life.
I love you Mushom, see you on the other side
I love you more than life itself Mushom.
You didn't want us to be sad when you passed, so, I'm going to try. I am trying. But, I truly miss you more than anything. I would give anything just to play a game a crib with you, to talk to you.
Best regards,
Devon
God bless you Mushom Max. You're never forgotten.
You were the head cheese, the glue for this family. You were how everyone managed day to day. Knowing you we're are home, watching sports. Making bets and drinking tea. Scratching tickets and waiting for the phone call. How everyone had to yell for you to hear them. You were wise, you were strong and you were a warrior. I know you are a crib player, a conversationalist and a hell of a Cree speaker.
I regret never being able to speak to you in Cree, never taking advantage of the fact you speak it clearly and concise. I always said " oh, I'll go see him next month and start learning." I never got that opportunity. I never got the chance to say tansi, even. Never got to play crib, I promised you I would come play crib with you at the end of April. Instead, I have to help bury you.
You hated grudges, you hated the constant bickering, you wanted your kids and grand kids to unite as a family and stay strong. That message was lost through the years. I'm very sad it took your passing to remind us how strong we can be as a family.
I hear your voice, every time I think about you. Asking me about my girlfriend. Telling me how excited you were to come to my wedding. You'll be there, one way or the other Mushom. You are the reason I battle through my anxiety and pain. You were a true warrior. You had even died and came back to life, battled tuberculosis, alcoholism, multiple bouts of pneumonia, and COPD. You were an inspiration. You were one hell of a stubborn man. Stubborn as a mule doesn't even cut it. You knew nothing could take you out. I am living the same way. Stubborn enough that you came back to life and still kicked its ass for 10 more years.
You always bet 4 dollars on sports select , bought 8 scratch tickets, but never 10,
Because 10 never win you any money. I still see you sitting in your chair, swearing at the TV because Indianapolis screwed you over.
You were the only one who recognized my voice on the phone right away. Talked to Anyone who wanted to list and fight for what's right.
You never wanted to die alone Mushom (Grandpa) and you didn't. For the time that I was alive you always had one of your kids holding s grudge and not talking to you over something. In the past 3 months. You had every kid and grand kid talking to you. With love and appreciation. You never died alone. We all love you. You carry our love and you carry
We always will love you, and you are still with us. You live through all of us.
We are going to struggle to find an identity, a true meaning to life.
I love you Mushom, see you on the other side
I love you more than life itself Mushom.
You didn't want us to be sad when you passed, so, I'm going to try. I am trying. But, I truly miss you more than anything. I would give anything just to play a game a crib with you, to talk to you.
Best regards,
Devon
God bless you Mushom Max. You're never forgotten.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Rehtaeh Parsons and social media
Rehtaeh Parsons (was) a Teenager in Nova Scotia.
I've been regretting writing this post, as it is the same shit as always. Same story, same outcome, and same level of caring from people who should care.
The judicial system has failed and will fail again.
Reh was a 17 year old high school girl, like any other I guess you could say. Went to school, and dabbled in parties on weekends. Business as usual for most high schoolers. Media and social networking gets blurry on the next details. She drank a lot, she blacked out. Yes, blacked out. Where you don't remember what happens once you reach that point. Typically 0.25-.035% BAC. What is not mentioned or argued, is the fact that one of the 4 guys who proceeded to rape her after the point of blackout, are not charged. For that matter, aren't even put under the microscope.
The incident happened in 2011. She drank, she fucked up and drank too much. What I would assume she passed out. 4 guys proceeded to rape her, one by one. Nobody says anything. EXCEPT for one of the rapists to say take a picture. The picture is put up on nearly every social networking site that we are visit daily.
The next day, she remembers very few details that you would expect from someone who blacked out. Suffering from crippling anxiety and disarray of the whole situation, she was unable to give a reliable testimony for them to look into criminally investigate these 4 shitheads.
That should not be the problem. Photos of their ridiculous actions and selfish fucking stupidity are online. That should be enough to prosecute them. But, alas it wasn't deemed enough reliable evidence to begin to prosecute them.
from 2011 to 2013 she continued to battle through high school. The worst part of it all is nobody was there to comfort her. Nobody cared enough to talk to her. She became afraid. She didn't know what to do. Nobody helped, not one individual could put aside differences to say "hey, everything will be okay." Which is sometimes all a person needs to hear. Instead she got ridiculed, she got called a slut. She was considered a person who liked gangbangs from people who weren't even there for the whole situation. She was called a whore. She was a shell by the end of all of it. That is not fair.
People should be man enough to say something, nod or smile. Include her, even nurture her. She got nothing, she didn't get a wink of helpfulness. Of some semblance of human interaction. High school ate her up and spit her out.
Social media is now a blessing and a curse. In her case it is a curse for right now. Social media lit the fire. She became so much more to people in the town when bloggers, accounts on twitter and close friends were able to tell people how much of a slut she was. How she is playing the victim. People bought into it. People lived it, it embodied them. People hated this girl for basically no reason.
She committed suicide in April. As my previous posts were written, this is very emotional for me. No individual anywhere should be treated like a piece of shit. I have feelings, you have feelings and she sure as fuck had feelings. It is too little, too late to to try help Rehtaeh. You can help the cause by using social media as a positive tool to get those 4 shitheads behind bars.
What can you do? You can talk to people, talk to anyone who looks like they are having a rough day. Listen to people, if they have a story be willing to talk to them. Give them a smile. Make them feel welcome in this shitty world. It is too late for Rehtaeh to have kindness given to her. I send my best wishes to her family.
Nothing or nobody helped this girl in Nova Scotia, nobody cared enough. To the common individual to the elite, nobody gave 2 shits about this girl who got raped.
Bullying has to fucking stop, cyber, human, fiscal, personal, elder, spousal. All of it has to stop.
Rest In Peace Rehtaeh, you will not be forgotten. You may become a face for change, a face for an anti-bullying campaign.
We need to start saving lives instead of ridiculing people.
http://www.kidshelpphone.ca/teens/home/splash.aspx Here is the number to kids help phone.
If you are in post-secondary, talk to a psychologist. If you are stuck and feel trapped. Talk to those close to you. Remember "This too shall pass" and please talk to somebody if you feel anxiety or depression. Do not bottle it up, it will consume you.
Thanks,
Regards,
Devon
I've been regretting writing this post, as it is the same shit as always. Same story, same outcome, and same level of caring from people who should care.
The judicial system has failed and will fail again.
Reh was a 17 year old high school girl, like any other I guess you could say. Went to school, and dabbled in parties on weekends. Business as usual for most high schoolers. Media and social networking gets blurry on the next details. She drank a lot, she blacked out. Yes, blacked out. Where you don't remember what happens once you reach that point. Typically 0.25-.035% BAC. What is not mentioned or argued, is the fact that one of the 4 guys who proceeded to rape her after the point of blackout, are not charged. For that matter, aren't even put under the microscope.
The incident happened in 2011. She drank, she fucked up and drank too much. What I would assume she passed out. 4 guys proceeded to rape her, one by one. Nobody says anything. EXCEPT for one of the rapists to say take a picture. The picture is put up on nearly every social networking site that we are visit daily.
The next day, she remembers very few details that you would expect from someone who blacked out. Suffering from crippling anxiety and disarray of the whole situation, she was unable to give a reliable testimony for them to look into criminally investigate these 4 shitheads.
That should not be the problem. Photos of their ridiculous actions and selfish fucking stupidity are online. That should be enough to prosecute them. But, alas it wasn't deemed enough reliable evidence to begin to prosecute them.
from 2011 to 2013 she continued to battle through high school. The worst part of it all is nobody was there to comfort her. Nobody cared enough to talk to her. She became afraid. She didn't know what to do. Nobody helped, not one individual could put aside differences to say "hey, everything will be okay." Which is sometimes all a person needs to hear. Instead she got ridiculed, she got called a slut. She was considered a person who liked gangbangs from people who weren't even there for the whole situation. She was called a whore. She was a shell by the end of all of it. That is not fair.
People should be man enough to say something, nod or smile. Include her, even nurture her. She got nothing, she didn't get a wink of helpfulness. Of some semblance of human interaction. High school ate her up and spit her out.
Social media is now a blessing and a curse. In her case it is a curse for right now. Social media lit the fire. She became so much more to people in the town when bloggers, accounts on twitter and close friends were able to tell people how much of a slut she was. How she is playing the victim. People bought into it. People lived it, it embodied them. People hated this girl for basically no reason.
She committed suicide in April. As my previous posts were written, this is very emotional for me. No individual anywhere should be treated like a piece of shit. I have feelings, you have feelings and she sure as fuck had feelings. It is too little, too late to to try help Rehtaeh. You can help the cause by using social media as a positive tool to get those 4 shitheads behind bars.
What can you do? You can talk to people, talk to anyone who looks like they are having a rough day. Listen to people, if they have a story be willing to talk to them. Give them a smile. Make them feel welcome in this shitty world. It is too late for Rehtaeh to have kindness given to her. I send my best wishes to her family.
Nothing or nobody helped this girl in Nova Scotia, nobody cared enough. To the common individual to the elite, nobody gave 2 shits about this girl who got raped.
Bullying has to fucking stop, cyber, human, fiscal, personal, elder, spousal. All of it has to stop.
Rest In Peace Rehtaeh, you will not be forgotten. You may become a face for change, a face for an anti-bullying campaign.
We need to start saving lives instead of ridiculing people.
http://www.kidshelpphone.ca/teens/home/splash.aspx Here is the number to kids help phone.
If you are in post-secondary, talk to a psychologist. If you are stuck and feel trapped. Talk to those close to you. Remember "This too shall pass" and please talk to somebody if you feel anxiety or depression. Do not bottle it up, it will consume you.
Thanks,
Regards,
Devon
Monday, April 8, 2013
I am
I am writing this blogpost to help people gain a little insight into who I am
I am funny
I am odd-looking, I am also aware of this.
I am unique, but as are all of you.
I am an avid gamer
I am a proud Indigenous Canadian
I am not better than anyone
I am easily frustrated.
I am easily angered
I am not hesitant to hit inanimate objects
I am unable to lay a hand on another human, regardless on how much you piss me off.
I am unable to make jokes about rape, racism, or using the word 'retard' and you shouldn't either
I am a person who was born with Bilateral cleft lip and palate
I am able to tell you what you should hear, if others cannot say it. (good or bad)
I am capable of feelings.
I am capable of comforting you, regardless if I have ever met you
I am a person who has broken my arm twice.
I am a person who has experienced 18 surgeries in my life (3 more on the way)
I am stronger because of them, not weaker
I am a person who does not see what is in front of him at first glance.
I am a hypocrite, as are you.
I am human
I am able to forgive
I am selfless
I am a sufferer of mental health problems
I am learning to control this.
I am most interested in learning about others, as you are the people in this with me.
I am a person who speaks from the heart.
I am an individual.
I am me .
I am done with this blogpost now, it is redundant. This is me.
Thanks,
Best Regards
I am funny
I am odd-looking, I am also aware of this.
I am unique, but as are all of you.
I am an avid gamer
I am a proud Indigenous Canadian
I am not better than anyone
I am easily frustrated.
I am easily angered
I am not hesitant to hit inanimate objects
I am unable to lay a hand on another human, regardless on how much you piss me off.
I am unable to make jokes about rape, racism, or using the word 'retard' and you shouldn't either
I am a person who was born with Bilateral cleft lip and palate
I am able to tell you what you should hear, if others cannot say it. (good or bad)
I am capable of feelings.
I am capable of comforting you, regardless if I have ever met you
I am a person who has broken my arm twice.
I am a person who has experienced 18 surgeries in my life (3 more on the way)
I am stronger because of them, not weaker
I am a person who does not see what is in front of him at first glance.
I am a hypocrite, as are you.
I am human
I am able to forgive
I am selfless
I am a sufferer of mental health problems
I am learning to control this.
I am most interested in learning about others, as you are the people in this with me.
I am a person who speaks from the heart.
I am an individual.
I am me .
I am done with this blogpost now, it is redundant. This is me.
Thanks,
Best Regards
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Negative news media and its effects on anxiety
Anxiety of the masses, it is hard to justify that something can affect multiple people in one area. Each individual is different and deals with things differently.
At the end of the day, all of our information gets piped through the internet. I don't read a newspaper because it is all on my 4 by 6 screen. But, what are you really reading? How North Korea is threatening everyday. Murders, rapes and people trying to justify the fact they were raped because they were dressed provocatively.
The worst one of all, the health column. How bad do you eat? How shitty of a person are you for eating a little bit of cake? You are fat, you are gross and have no self-control.
Sometimes it is as blatant as that. Look, your body needs sugar, needs fats, needs salt. And your body needs a little bit of belly to help your brain. You don't need to be flat, you need a little girth. A little weight. It is no reason to freak out if you put on a few pounds. As long as you are happy with it. Magazines and newspapers put such stringent rules on society and how they should feel. Why? It is what they are paid to do. They break down your conscience and on the next page will have advertisements for hot yoga, weight loss plans, or a new pill. Why bother? Why bother reading these things?
Another issue I have with the negative news media is.the actual effects on the human body. Read a story that really affects your mood and your blood pressure will rise and your body's stress response will go haywire for days. It can also depress you. Read a story about a person younger than you who is a millionaire or has 3 degrees and it will seriously depress you. Regardless if you are a jealous person or not. Reality TV shows for people who are "fat" who have nothing left to live for are there to make you feel some compassion. What it actually does it give you a check-and-balance system that "hey, I'm not that crazy".
The constant need to portray people with mental health issue as crazy, or unlike everyone else is what makes me more angry. People deal with things in their own way. Yes 1 in 8 people are depressed. No need to paint them with a broad brush that they aren't like anyone else. Enough of that garbage media people. That affects peoples mental illnesses a lot worse as well. Because they are going to feel worse about themselves.
In my opinion (I will extrapolate in a further blogpost) Money is nearly synonymous with anxiety, and the news and media will be right there to reinforce it. What is worse about it all? They enforce it, and they force you into a corner by offering you "help". Their help puts you more in debt. Causes more anxiety, in some cases drives people to bankruptcy or even worse. Suicide.
So much negativity in the media today, it far outweighs the positivity. It is so much more than that, as I did not tie in sponsorship, who they are paid by, and the whole objective of it.
The news media is biased, and it is never positive. It makes me more anxious than it should. As if they report that we should be worried. Everyone will worry.
Oh, side note. During a mass murder they show the killer hundreds of times to make you feel uneasy and angry, they really need to stop that. Show victims and talk about their story.
Regards,
Devon
At the end of the day, all of our information gets piped through the internet. I don't read a newspaper because it is all on my 4 by 6 screen. But, what are you really reading? How North Korea is threatening everyday. Murders, rapes and people trying to justify the fact they were raped because they were dressed provocatively.
The worst one of all, the health column. How bad do you eat? How shitty of a person are you for eating a little bit of cake? You are fat, you are gross and have no self-control.
Sometimes it is as blatant as that. Look, your body needs sugar, needs fats, needs salt. And your body needs a little bit of belly to help your brain. You don't need to be flat, you need a little girth. A little weight. It is no reason to freak out if you put on a few pounds. As long as you are happy with it. Magazines and newspapers put such stringent rules on society and how they should feel. Why? It is what they are paid to do. They break down your conscience and on the next page will have advertisements for hot yoga, weight loss plans, or a new pill. Why bother? Why bother reading these things?
Another issue I have with the negative news media is.the actual effects on the human body. Read a story that really affects your mood and your blood pressure will rise and your body's stress response will go haywire for days. It can also depress you. Read a story about a person younger than you who is a millionaire or has 3 degrees and it will seriously depress you. Regardless if you are a jealous person or not. Reality TV shows for people who are "fat" who have nothing left to live for are there to make you feel some compassion. What it actually does it give you a check-and-balance system that "hey, I'm not that crazy".
The constant need to portray people with mental health issue as crazy, or unlike everyone else is what makes me more angry. People deal with things in their own way. Yes 1 in 8 people are depressed. No need to paint them with a broad brush that they aren't like anyone else. Enough of that garbage media people. That affects peoples mental illnesses a lot worse as well. Because they are going to feel worse about themselves.
In my opinion (I will extrapolate in a further blogpost) Money is nearly synonymous with anxiety, and the news and media will be right there to reinforce it. What is worse about it all? They enforce it, and they force you into a corner by offering you "help". Their help puts you more in debt. Causes more anxiety, in some cases drives people to bankruptcy or even worse. Suicide.
So much negativity in the media today, it far outweighs the positivity. It is so much more than that, as I did not tie in sponsorship, who they are paid by, and the whole objective of it.
The news media is biased, and it is never positive. It makes me more anxious than it should. As if they report that we should be worried. Everyone will worry.
Oh, side note. During a mass murder they show the killer hundreds of times to make you feel uneasy and angry, they really need to stop that. Show victims and talk about their story.
Regards,
Devon
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