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Let me start by saying that I love you. I love that you want to be there for me. I love that you're showing concern for my health and recovery. It means so much.
But can I just, real quick, tell you what my mornings have been like since my injury?
While traveling in Malaysia this year, I met the most amazing woman. Vivacious, brilliant, and adventurous, this girl and I kayaked several miles of open sea in search of fish species we'd never seen before. We lay on the beach all night, watching the stars and eating watermelon infused with duty-free vodka. We trekked the python- and cobra-filled jungle in search of the elusive Penis Plant.
"All disease," some antivaxxing dumbass who, apparently, is writing a book about his amazing perspective and incredible life experiences, "comes from a toxic mindset and bad lifestyle choices."
"Right," I replied. "And the woman who runs marathons and does yoga every day and eats kale who still gets cancer...?"
"There is something wrong in her mind. Maybe she has a bad marriage or something."
Angkor Wat. Image: @TheHappyTalent on Instagram.
On June 4, 2019, I was in Hong Kong, honoring the victims of Tiananmen Square alongside tens of thousands of Hongkongers whose freedom is in peril, and mainland Chinese citizens who aren't allowed to discuss June 4 in their hometowns.
Then I hopped on a plane, traveled back in time to San Francisco, and lived June 4 all over again, this time commemorating the travesty by singing "Ohio" by Crosby Stills and Nash. Angrily repeating the refrain, "Four dead in Ohio! Four dead in Ohio! Four dead in Ohio!" I kept thinking about two things:
As I've mentioned in several recent posts, I've been traveling around Southeast Asia the last few months -- and one of my favorite things about travel is exploring cultural differences.
One that keeps popping up this year... is sex. Specifically, sex taboos.
"Excuse me, do you have a lighter?" I'm asked for the third time today.
"Of course not! I'm American -- we don't smoke!" I reply, hoping that whoever ends up lending this European backpacker a lighter is standing far, far away from me.
"She only got in because she's an athlete."
"He only got in because he's black. I had a much higher SAT score, and I didn't get in."
"Of course she got in! She's Mexican, gay, and disabled. A triple-threat minority!"
"Yeah, but he's a legacy student."
Jealousy is ugly... and if you're someone who's been admitted to a prestigious prep school or university, chances are you've heard someone say something ugly about why you got in.
They might be right. They might be wrong. They might just be spiteful. Regardless, who cares? You got in, and they didn't.
Almost everyone who participates in teen travel tours, service trips, and summer abroad programs... is a girl.
Yesterday, I wrote about how there's a difference between helping a depressed friend and enabling an abuser. My intention was to inform those whose friends suffer from mental illness to be compassionate... but remember to think critically about your actions and the effects they may have on your friend and his/her partner.
Today, I'm writing a quick reminder to those who are, or may be, affected by mental illness:
Your partner is not your emotional slave.
My background is in psychology -- but not abnormal or relationship psychology. (I studied adult playfulness!) I want to acknowledge that before I start, because this is far from my area of expertise.
But I just saw some of THE MOST FUCKED UP SHIT on Facebook, and it prompted an important realization:
There is a difference between helping a depressed friend and enabling an abuser.
About the Author
Eva is a content specialist with a passion for play, travel... and a little bit of girl power. Read more >
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