Why We Desperately Need To Stop Telling Guys To ‘Man Up’

Feelings. They are not unfamiliar to us and in fact, everyone harbors them. Some showcase their feelings more than others, but we cannot deny that we have them even if we tried. As human beings that we are, we hold a special ability in which we are able to fabricate emotions. Sensitivity is a beautiful trait to hold because it makes you well..human. It’s just the nature of things.

So why is it totally acceptable to tell any man he should “man up” when they let their feelings be known? Generally speaking, why should anyone withhold from having any emotions?

As we grow up into our own personas, we tend to be shown that only girls are able to cry and be sensitive, while guys should never show their feelings. Hence, crying is not an option and being afraid is out of the question. If they do happen to show even an ounce of any of said acts, then they are automatically labelled as being p*ssies and too feminine. Well, lemme tell you how much bullsh*t that is.

As a society, we have done a great job in shining light on very important problems in the world like body image, mental illnesses, sexist mindsets, etc. Just as how women are able to become the victim of all those problems, men can too. But, they are so often afraid to share their stories in fear of being labelled weak. They should be able to openly share it without fearing the status of their masculinity. Why? Well because men are just as human as women are.

Taking that into consideration, why can’t both genders equally display their emotions without one of them being criticized? Valuing a man who cannot fathom the notion of any type of sensibility is not cute. In other words, it’s not cute to tell any man to “man up.”

Making a man completely trash his emotions just makes for a frustrated male. A frustrated male who has been told to bottle up his feelings and adopt the typical macho man persona. What good does that do to our world? Other than not being able to develop any sort of empathy or sensitivity to be able to relate to others, nothing. Just a typical socially accepted emotionally disconnected guy. Cue the F*ck Boy.

To the Big-Hearted Girl, Remember to Never Apologize for Loving Intensely

“Never apologize for being sensitive or emotional. Let this be a sign that you have a big heart and aren’t afraid to let others see it. Showing your emotions is a sign of strength.” – Brigitte Nicole 

You’re the big-hearted girl that loves deeply and intensely and you deserve nothing less than what your heart desires. You deserve to receive the same loyalty and commitment that your heart gives. Your heart is worth infinite honest love because you offer the kind of love that is pure and unconditional.

1. You deserve the forever kind of love that’s honest and intense.

You’re worthy of someone who’s going to welcome and appreciate your big heart and every part of you. You need a person who’s not afraid to love, someone who won’t take you for granted and won’t disappoint you or break your heart.

2. You might have gotten your heart broken way too many times.

You’re tired of being the big-hearted girl who keeps giving second chances or keeps waiting for the wrong guy to change.

You might have missed the mark by giving your heart to the wrong guy but you don’t regret loving with all your heart. Deep down you know it’s their loss.

3. You know that a guy should not dictate your happiness or change who you are.

You know it’s not your fault they’re not ready to receive love and give you the commitment that you deserve.

4. The truth is, as a big-hearted girl, you can be gentle, loving and forgiving but you’re also strong and confident of your values.

You’re not afraid to keep fighting for the love that you know in your heart is out there for you to find. You embrace your ability to love deeply and don’t allow anyone to make you feel that having a big heart makes you weak.

5. You’re a badass with a big heart.

You know that you’re capable of writing your own love story one chapter at a time, even if some of that chapters are filled with heartaches and disappointments. You believe that experiencing heartache is all part of the journey of finding true love. At the end of the day, you know that it can help you grow and learn to love yourself even more for when the one crosses your path.

6. You believe in love and nothing or anyone in this world can make you give up on it.

You love to love and you blindly believe that your ability to love will guide you to the one that’s destined for you. Someone who will be completely loyal to you and will make you miss a heartbeat every time you see him.

7. You know with all your heart that the one for you is also looking you because he has a big heart like yours.

You’re convinced that he knows you’re worth the wait and that he’s doing everything in his power to make his heart find yours.

8. You know that loving hard is your best quality and you will continue to embrace your ability to love with pride.

You believe that one day soon true love will find you in the most beautiful way and your heart will be completely ready to receive it.

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To My Father Who Wasn’t Man Enough to Stick Around

It’s been so long since you abandoned me, Dad, but people still ask about you. Most want to know how I’m doing without you, but sometimes they’ll ask how you are and I’m forced to admit I have no idea.

I don’t get too upset by the questions. But even if I refused to speak about you for the rest of my life, I’ll never be able to forget the morning you left.

I woke up and my whole world was gone.

At first, I actually thought you were dead. Weird, right? What kind of father leaves their child wondering that?

And even with all of that, I don’t hate you. You are my dad. Even if that’s the only “are” we have left.

Maybe it’s because you were a great dad. Growing up, you were my superhero and my teddy bear, always there to fight off my bad dreams.

You were my pillow when my heart was broken, my motivator when school got hard, and the one who kept me going.

You were my heart, my happiness, my absolute everything. I hope you feel the emotions behind these words because you genuinely hurt me.

Because other people don’t ever get it. They say I should be happy that you weren’t a deadbeat my whole life. And, I am thankful for the times when we were close, but that doesn’t mean I don’t ache over you every day.

I wish I could forget the day you chose to leave, but it’s burned into my memory. My life has never been the same.

I try to stay positive. I don’t want to be bitter, but it’s so damn hard.

Why did you break my heart? There was no logical reason. Many parents don’t live with their children, some get divorced and remarried but they still stay in contact. Why did you have to just abandon me?

Something in you changed and took my Dad away. Maybe it was unresolved pain or depression. Maybe it was pure selfishness. Whatever the culprit, I hope you overcome it someday.

I hope I’ll be able to understand one day, mostly for my own sake but also for yours.

Yes, sometimes I scream that I hate you and will never be okay, but I know I will be. I don’t really hate you. You’ve done something I don’t think I will ever forgive, but I’ll always love the person you used to be.

I hope you find happiness because I don’t hate you. Our relationship is marked by things you used to be, but you are always going to be my dad, that will never change.

Next time I see you, I hope I see something different in you, a smile or some confidence. Something I can’t see now. And if I don’t ever see you again, I hope you love your new life, Dad.

Because I am your daughter and I will never stop loving you. Even if you stopped loving me.

My Mind Knows I Should Leave but My Heart Won’t Give Him Up

I’m finally at the point where I can confidently fake a pleasant, positive response when people ask how I’m doing. Some see the sadness hidden in my eyes and give me a knowing look, but most just move on.

Those people don’t know the pain you caused me. The ones that do despise you. They see how you’ve shattered me and recognize that I’ll never be the girl I was before I let you into my heart.

They held me as my body quivered when I had no tears left and heard my weakened whispers admitting how alone and defeated I was. They saw my body shrink as I struggled to move past everything.

They don’t understand why I still choose to let you in my life. Sometimes even I don’t know why I let you stay after you broke me the way you did.

It’s curious how a problem can be its own solution. On my roughest days, you’re still the only one who can calm me down and talk some sense into my stubborn head. 

I know you care about me. You’ve taken responsibility for your actions and I know that means a lot, but part of me will never understand how you treated me so horribly.

On the days where I find the tears streaming down my face, I have no problem angrily telling you how shitty of a person you are. While I do feel that way about you, I also still care for you. I still love you.

It’s been a long time since we sat in the same room and talked but late night text conversations still happen. 

You say it’s best that we keep our distance while things are fresh because you’re scared being close will bring too many feelings back for me.

Part of me knows that you’re just as scared that you’ll find yourself overwhelmed.

I know I’ll never be able to fully detach if I let you stick around in my life and heart, but maybe I don’t really want to quit what we’ve started.

Maybe this is just our pause, not a full stop.

Anxiety Makes Me Feel Like No One Will Ever Truly Understand Me

Anxiety isn’t an uncommon topic. Everyone knows what it means to feel anxious about an exam or worried about a loved one or stressed out because life is busy.

But there are so many things about actually being diagnosed with an anxiety disorder that continues to baffle many and there’s still a pretty big stigma around the condition.

There seems to be this theory that my anxiety looks like yours.

There’s this idea of what anxiety should be and when it should happen, and it all gets tied up inside a box with a neat little bow and put away until disaster strikes.

But anxiety doesn’t limit itself to obvious disaster. It takes every opportunity it can find to creep inside and ruin my day.

Anxiety lives in wet towels on the bathroom floor and messy rooms. Anxiety waits for me in my unmade bed and the pile of laundry that isn’t clean.

It lives in every moment in which control lies just outside my reach and it uninvitedly comes with me wherever I go.

Anxiety lurks in every minor symbol of chaos and turns the mundane into a panicked frenzy. It has this ability to turn every mistake into colossal failure and every simple conversation into complex, over-analyzed humiliation.

It turns jokes into tears and every outing into inconvenience until every breath I take becomes labored. It drains every single ounce of joy from my bones and doesn’t give me a moments notice.

It doesn’t always make sense and it doesn’t always allow me to control it. Anxiety is rude that way.

Some days I can fight it off — some days I anticipate a panic attack and I push it off for as long as possible until I reach the safety of crumbling into a ball under the covers.

But some days anxiety doesn’t care that it isn’t a convenient time for me to have a mental breakdown and I succumb to this thing in my brain that tells me nothing is going to be okay.

Some days anxiety wins. 

Some days I lose to the chemical imbalance inside my own head and I don’t get to control my feelings, even if I know they are irrational. Some days anxiety just beats logic.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter how hard I try, I just can’t relax. I can’t “just calm down” and sometimes I can’t do anything but wait for anxiety to loosen its siphoning grip on me.

After doing the research, speaking to the professionals, and comparing myself to others, one thing seems to ring true.

Every single person experiences anxiety differently.

You don’t have my brain or the same chemical imbalance going on up there. You don’t have my personality, and you’ve never stepped foot in my shoes.

So, you tell me, is your anxiety the same as mine?

For more from RC, visit her writer’s page here.  

The Death Of A Loved One Is Not Something You Get Over

July 28, 2010 is a day that will always be etched into my mind. At first, it was a normal day for me. I had graduated high school 2 months beforehand and was just spending my time with my friends, and with my nieces who at the time were living with me.

I woke up that morning to my niece not feeling good, she was running a fever and we figured she may have had an ear infection again so my sister and her boyfriend took her into the doctors. Sure enough, she had a double ear infection, was sent home with medicine and that was that.

We put her down for a nap, and when after dinner I went to check on her, she was still sleeping, so I took her sister to the park by our house. A half hour later, I got a phone call that changed my life. My niece had stopped breathing. My neighbor from across the street came running to the park and told me to get to her house.

She grabbed my niece and I sprinted as fast as I could to her house, I saw 2 cop cars, a fire truck and an ambulance outside my house. It was the scariest night of my life. After 10 minutes my mom called me to bring my niece home and to take care of her and my youngest niece while they were at the ER. As soon as they left, a detective showed up at my house and asked me all these questions.

My neighbor down the street offered to take the girls for me so they weren’t in the way. At 8:15 that night, I got the call that changed my whole life. I had that gut feeling that she didn’t make it, and heartbreakingly I was correct.

I felt like the worst aunt ever, she was 19 months old, and I hardly bothered to spend time with her. I felt guilty that my friends were more important. I fell to my knees screaming and crying, and my brother’s friends ran up to me holding me. Throughout the night my friends stopped by to see me and see how I was doing.

A month after everything happened, my friend at the time was talking to me about my depression and the grieving I was going through, and she was like “not to be mean, but you need to get over it, she’s not coming back.”

I was dumbfounded by her, how could someone say that? I knew she wasn’t coming back! That was my niece though! My heart was broken even more by that comment. I get that she never lost anyone close to her, but you never say that to someone.

The whole year was a blur, I pushed all my friends away because I was grieving, and felt like they would never understand. As the one year mark approached, my best friend told me how our friend wanted her to tell me that I seriously needed to get over myself and that I needed to get over the death of my niece. She kept saying how I need to accept that my niece is gone and never coming back.

We had a strained relationship ever since then, how could I trust her after what she had said? The worst part is she tried to deny that she ever said it a second time! She had apologized after saying it the first time, and while I forgave her, I was very careful around her.

Losing my niece made me realize a lot about how people can be so horrible. There were rumors going around my neighborhood that she was hit by a car while I was babysitting, but the truth is, she passed in her sleep, and her autopsy came back inconclusive, so we will never know what really happened that day.

I have never felt as heartbroken as that night, but I am so glad she is my guardian angel. As much as I wish she were still alive, she is no longer in pain. I will always be her aunt, and she will always be the little girl who lit up the room with that beautiful smile on her face.

The truth about living with BPD

I’m a smart girl. I love animals. My grandma is my favorite person on the planet. I love trashy reality tv. I’m good at doing hair and make-up. I’m a waitress and I get along with almost everyone.

My name is Kati. Yesterday, I came to the ER suicidal, because I have Borderline Personality Disorder, and it has ruined my life.
Borderline Personality Disorder(BPD), which affects about 2% of the population, comes in two forms: classic and quiet. Mine’s classic. It sits on the border of neurosis (depression, anxiety, etc) and psychosis (schizophrenia, etc).

In short, I’m one big mixed bag of mental illnesses.

It’s basically the inability to regulate my emotions – so what is a minor irritant to anyone else, is overwhelmingly agonizing for me to the point where I can’t function. BPD is usually shrugged off as bad behavior, or being “too sensitive”, So I’ve written to summarise what I go through, and show people that this isn’t something that I choose, I’m sick.

Generally, borderline symptoms can include:

* deep feelings of insecurity
* fragile sense of self/low self-esteem
* fear of abandonment
* impulsiveness (sudden urge to self-harm, commit suicide, drink, take drugs, practice unsafe sex, etc)
* contradictory feelings
* uncontrollable anger and/or mood swings
* the constant need for affirmation and attention
* feelings of emptiness
* idealizing or devaluing other people
* intense outbursts (what I call “episodes”) of anger, depression or anxiety
* psychotic outbursts (seeing things and hearing things that aren’t there etc)
* difficulty compromising or seeing reason
* inability to control emotions or thoughts
* Black and white thinking, everything, and everyone is either good or bad.

My condition went undiagnosed for well over 5 years, probably even longer, that is when symptoms first started to show. I experience all of the above symptoms, including social anxiety and depression, I struggle with complex PTSD. and I also battled and overcame an eating disorder a year ago.

That was my issue: I have battled several mental illnesses, but never seemed to get better, because we were treating the wrong thing.

From age 13 until 21 when I was finally properly diagnosed, I was told I had bipolar 2 disorder. Any kind of treatment or medication I had never helped, and I always wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn’t get better. People with BPD often struggle to form and maintaining relationships of any nature, especially with those closest to them. It is not unusual for BPD patients to “push people away” or attempt to do so, when, in reality, they are terrified of being alone, but don’t know how to express it. Makes no sense, right? Welcome to borderline personality disorder.

My mood can change like a light switch: fine one moment, and the next, overwhelmed with anger or sadness, uncontrollable crying, bursts of intense anger, impulsive harmful divisions, dissociation, and so on.

I can’t explain why I do this other than I lose all control of my conscious thought. Some days I wake up and I “just can’t do it” – I cannot bring myself to think or feel enough to accomplish basic tasks like taking a shower. What may seem like simple everyday tasks for most people, some days with me is like trying to move mountains. I missed so much school growing up, between being in hospitals, and just not being able to deal with it all. I couldn’t work for the longest time because I couldn’t handle simple job requirements: lots of strangers, lots of noise, lots of stress, and high expectations of me. I have screamed at the people I love the most that I hate and blame them for everything that is wrong in the world. In reality, I don’t mean it at all. I have burnt, scratched, and bruised myself on several occasions growing up as a coping strategy – I’d rather hurt myself than someone else, and there are no other means to release the agony and anger I’m experiencing on the inside.

I see my conscious as three stages:

1. I’m normal, focused, rational. Can communicate properly.

2. I know I am behaving badly, irrationally, or wrongly consciously, but I can’t control it physically. Willpower and reality aren’t functioning normally.

3. I am completely out of touch with reality, I cannot “grasp” any thoughts or emotions, and the only way to deal with the internal trauma is to cry, scream, hurt myself, the list goes on. When this happens, when I get bad, dissociation kicks in and I become numb to everything.

It has been noted that BPD is usually the result of trauma or abuse.

In my case, it was sexual abuse when I was very young. We’re still trying to get to the bottom of it, and I go to therapy weekly. People may see my behaviors as overreacting, unnecessary, etc., which honestly, it is. What they don’t see is that I have no control over what I am experiencing. On social media, I often post pictures all dolled up, looking happy. What people don’t know behind these pictures, is how I haven’t slept or eaten properly in days. That I just had a 4-hour mental breakdown. How I have daily migraines from the stress.

These aren’t things I intended the world to know. But this is what the world needs to see – because yes, I am the Kati that loves makeup and watching shitty reality tv, who loves animals, and has an entire universe of love inside of her to give. But I’m also the Kati in this hospital bed, looking at scratches and bruises I inflicted on myself, who feels nothing but guilt for the things she’s done and people she’s hurt as a result of this illness, who hurts on the inside and is clutching desperately at the walls trying to climb out of the pit she’s in. I’m doing this because this is my last chance; I have no choice but to get better.

Some things do trigger me to have an episode (though I’m still trying to identify and learn to manage them), including:

* any time I perceive that I am being abandoned
* loud noises
* crowds of strangers, especially when I’m alone
* people engaging in behaviors I find irritating (I overreact to them)
* being reminded of something that troubled me in the past
* perceiving that I am about to receive bad news
* Having plans canceled last minute
* Being ignored
* lack of sleep

Sometimes these episodes aren’t triggered and happen randomly. Sometimes I just get bad, and there is no real reason behind it.

BPD is turning nothing into everything, is knowing you’re being irrational and not being able to stop regardless, is suppressing breakdowns for fear of making the person you’re talking to have to take care of you when they really don’t want to.

It’s thinking someone doesn’t care about you anymore because they made a new friend. It’s automatically registering new people as a threat. It’s a fear of abandonment and rejection. It’s being able to shift from ‘I love you so much!’ to ‘I don’t give a fuck, I hate you, I don’t even want to talk to you’ and back at the drop of a hat.

It’s finding identity in a drastic hair change, and then feeling unsafe and desperately trying to fix it before you have to go out. It’s seeing someone you adore and trying to be just like them because you have no idea who you are. It’s waking up and trying to be a new person every day. Cut your hair, change your makeup, gain weight, lose weight, and never feel quite yourself.

It’s comprehending ‘love’ as ‘pity’ and wanting to rip yourself apart if their tone is all too casual when your friend or love interest is returning compliments or affection. It’s regretting saying anything about your mood and desperately trying to turn the conversation around while simultaneously NEEDING to get it out.

It’s wanting to bleed yourself dry as opposed to crying in someone’s arms because, at least then, they don’t have to clean your wounds for you. They won’t hate you. They won’t be annoyed.

It’s the constant battle, every time you get upset, of, “Is this worth being sad about? Is it worth talking about? What’s worse, talking about this or hiding it? If I tell them I’ll bring them down and I’ll guilt trip them and they will resent me and it will all be my fault. If I don’t, I’m a liar, I’m manipulative, I’m untrustworthy.” It’s being suicidal as soon as any minor inconvenience happens.

It’s wondering if you’re faking your symptoms. It’s turning nothing into everything. Overthinking. It’s disassociating and feeling like a ghost for days. It’s feeling like you aren’t real, and then wishing you weren’t. It’s fear, a lack of self, and about a million different thoughts running through your head at all times. It’s trying to live for the people you love as opposed to yourself. It’s being trapped in your own mind.

I have hurt myself, I have hurt other people, I have made impulsive decisions that have changed my life forever. I have had ups and downs. Every day is a battle for me and it will be for the rest of my life. If you have someone in your life with a mental illness, do not hate them for it. Chances are they already hate them self enough for everything they are doing to themself, and all the pain they cause you as well. Be as patient and as understanding as you can because none of this is easy for anyone involved. Most of the time, we just need someone to listen without judgment, and/or wait until the episode passes. Like a panic attack, the only thing that will stop an episode is time. There’s a lot I’m still figuring out at this stage. I’m going to therapy weekly and on medication, and working on myself and finding my own happiness, finding out how I can make myself feel okay. all I want is to get better, and that’s the reason I will.?

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