How to stop a mental breakdown

Step one: you don’t. The ebb and flow of emotions sometimes just need to happen. I wish I knew how to fix it. I wish I could look at myself in the mirror and just go: “Hey look, you’ve got your life together!”

Unfortunately, I don’t. In fact, I don’t even have today together. I’m looking at being broke for the next two weeks, my love life is not what I want, I live in a shitty basement in a house full of boys. I may or may not have mice in my room, and I’m currently writing with snot pouring out of my nose (awesome visual, I know) while I quietly sob hysterically.

In a way I know it has to look comical from the outside. Here is a semi-successful twenty-something year old who is complaining about stuff that truly does not matter. I have it easy. I know I do.

It’s hard to look past my current moment and get past the woe-is-me part. I want someone to hug me. I want my parents to help me out. Heck, I want my dog to become potty trained, but I also know that he’s a product of my own doing.

So what do I do? I write. I write so I can gain some semblance of sanity and refocus my energy into something else. I think mental breakdowns are your body’s way of saying, “Deal with the stuff in the box you’ve shoved to the back of your brain!!!”

It doesn’t help when you just mentally catalogue issues away to deal with later. If you’re like me, you just end up snot-bubbling (a phrase so eloquently used by my father) while watching the recap of a Grey’s Anatomy episode.

It sometimes helps to talk aloud and name five positive things in your life. It can help, though candidly it doesn’t always work for me.

Step two: Once you’ve calmed down enough to at least stop crying, focus on the next thing you have to do for the day. You can’t focus on all your problems at once, sometimes you just have to go one step at a time..

I don’t know if it’s like this for everyone. I know that this helps me to breathe. Writing helps me to remember myself. It helps me to stop crying. At least as long as my fingers keep moving.

Living life is hard. Being a twenty-something year old trying to balance all aspects of life can be really hard. It’s okay… I think. I think it’s okay to cry. I think it’s okay to be upset that your parents won’t help. I think it’s okay to feel utterly alone even when you know that you’ve got a lot of people willing to be there for you.

Try to breathe and stay calm for the next ten seconds. According to the wise words of Kimmy Schmidt, “You can do anything for ten seconds.”

I don’t even know if all of this makes sense, but at least I know I can breathe for the next ten seconds…

One thousand one… one thousand two….

When to Let Go

Relationships are hard. Knowing when to let go is even harder. How exactly do you know when it’s time to let something go and move on? Well, I’ve seen the signs in my relationship, but short of being hit in the head with literal signs I feel like I’ve been ignoring all the metaphorical ones.

For me, I have the tendency to hold on to something even when it’s probably no longer healthy to stick around. Why? It’s because I hate giving up on a relationship. It’s not that I’m looking for Mr. Right at this point in my life. Shoot, I don’t even know what I want to be when I grow up and I’m in my twenties! It’s because I saw failed relationships growing up and I desperately want to be the type of person to work through problems so that way when I am to the point where I’m ready to be married I can make it last.

Relationships, however, seem to be my weak spot whether it’s being romantically involved with someone, a friendship, or a relationship with a family member. In reflecting over the past year and a half, I’ve noticed that there were certainly signs that I should have listened to, but in the midst of my depression I didn’t really take a stand when I should have. It’s not to say that my past relationship was a particularly terrible one (though if you ask my best friend or my dad I’m sure they’d have something to say), I just allowed him to think that I was okay with certain undesirable behaviors when I should have stood up for myself.

I think in relationships there are a few key signs into realizing when it’s time to move on:

  1. There’s distrust
    • For me, I probably should have broken it off with him the minute I stopped trusting him. I didn’t want to though. I felt like I was being paranoid and that I had nothing to worry about when in reality I was just ignoring his behaviors and his growing secrecy.
  2. Your friends stopping liking your significant other
    • About halfway through my relationship, the guy I was with owned up to doing some things that really broke my heart. Me being a dummy, however, stayed with him and forgave him. My friends didn’t see it as something to forgive. I didn’t want to listen to their thoughts on him, mostly because I didn’t want to admit that I was staying in something bad. At the time I felt like they just didn’t understand the dynamics of our relationship and that it wasn’t worth explaining.
  3. You’re no longer happy with him
    • It took me a ridiculously long time to accept it, but towards the end I just wasn’t happy. I didn’t trust him. I began to hate myself for staying with him, but also truly believed that what I felt for him was love and I wanted to give the type of love that I read about in church. The only time we really got along was when we were physically intimate, but otherwise we argued all the time and I could see his lack of trust towards me, which infuriated me. Why didn’t he trust me? It’s not like I had done anything to him other than get the courage to stand up for myself every once in a while. I couldn’t brag about him to friends anymore, because the times he tried to be a good guy felt like they were an afterthought after months and months of dealing with his mood swings and verbal abuse.


It wasn’t until I had a very dear friend be a perfect gentleman towards me and compliment me on my goofiness, that I realized I deserved better. I had been told that for months, but it took me a long time to truly believe it. If a friend that I had known for years, who saw me grow up during my awkward phase, could find me beautiful and funny because of my quirkiness rather than in spite of all of those things, then why couldn’t the guy I’d been dating?

It was certainly a valuable lesson that I feel will help me in future relationships. Ladies, if you’ve ever been in my shoes, it’s important to remember this: You should never date a guy with the mindset that he’s out of your league. He should be proud to date you and flaunt it. If you ever feel like you’re not worthy of him and he’s made you feel that way, run! It’s something I have to constantly remind myself. I am worth more than a man who only found me worth caring for when it was convenient for him.

I am nerdy, curvy, goofy, and damn proud of it!!

I look forward to the future to focus on myself and become independent and happy for me. I know that the next man I date will appreciate it and I can stay in it for as long as it’s healthy. Growing up is hard. This whole “adult relationship” thing is hard too, but I feel like I learned a lot and I’m ready to pick myself up and see what’s in store for me.


When did kindness in men become surprising?

I like men. I really do. They’re great at cuddling and making me smile and all that cheesy-gooey stuff.

However, in college it’s become a norm for men to approach me for nothing more than “a good time” or a relationship with no titles…and that bothers me.

Of course, I didn’t realize it bothered me until I met someone who was different. It’s making me rethink my choice in men…

For story’s sake, we’ll call him Chris. I can’t say I’ve had an epiphany and fallen for the guy, we only met a few days ago. In fact, I don’t find him physically attractive. He’s good looking, but not my usual type. However, I met him when I went out dancing the other day.

It wasn’t any grand moment, he just asked me to dance and I accepted. He was actually not the best at two-stepping, but he was trying and it was funny. We started talking and immediately hit it off. It probably didn’t help that we started talking about Lord of the Rings (my favorite trilogy) and nerding out about it.

It was wonderful.

We ended up dancing the whole time and it was great. I hadn’t really ever had the opportunity to put all of my personality out there at once and have it just accepted. It was nice. I know that sounds really corny, but hey, it’s true.

I am taken with him not because of his looks, but rather his intelligence. We hung out again today with friends and we just talked for two hours. It felt like minutes. He has a certain charisma that is very interesting and alluring.

Men, just know, intelligence and a great personality is very attractive.

Now granted, the idea of dating him is a little “eh” at the moment. I just know I like being around him and he surprised me with his genuine character. He was talking and flirting and instead of saying something dirty or “seductive”, he simply asked if he could take me to dinner…

Why did I find this so surprising…

When did it become commonplace in college for courting to be obsolete and wild hookups or easy relationships to become a thing? It sucks.

Don’t get me wrong, I like a little wildness in my life, but that idea of courtship and friendship first was something I had almost believed was a girlish fantasy.

To find it in someone, regardless if he ends up just as a close friend or something more, is so incredibly refreshing.

So to the men out there, particularly the college men, don’t be afraid to woo a women with kindness. It’s one of the best feelings to be immediately respected without having to say that.

Boundaries are nice and personally, I think it’s much more attractive to have a man flirt and say he wants to take me to dinner than say he wants to seduce me or something of that nature.

Now I’m not saying these men are rare, but women, we have to encourage them not to be the jerkish buttmunches that are breaking our hearts!

To all the nice guys, don’t give that up. There are those of us who really like that.

Four eyes are sexier than two

Glasses: The universal symbol for the socially awkward nerd or the uptight librarian. When I think of glasses I think of the intellectuals, the Comicon fanatics, the hipsters, and those particularly proficient in the game of Magic.

In my head….I was not the one to wear glasses. I denied my inner nerdiness. However, it seemed as if the universe was aiming to make me embrace it.

I had an eye exam appointment scheduled last week and I was sure my vision was just fine. Growing up with my mom, the concept of annual eye exams were not a thing she thought to be important so I never had one. Visiting my dad led me to an eye exam which I thought was overrated, but went anyway.

At the exam they made me stick my head in what looked to be a torture device. It was. I pressed my eye into the machine where they proceeded to blind me with a bright green light. Apparently they were taking pictures of the inside of my eyes but I think they just like to watch us walk around with our vision impaired….

Once I got through with the initial tests the doctor had me look at letters and read them off. Surely no one can read those last two lines right? Wrong. She adjusted my vision with lenses and oh dear god I could see! The letters were clearer, the world was new, and the slow realization I was getting glasses began to dawn on me.

I picked out my frames with a mix of mild frustration and fascination. I chose a simple pair that would match with any outfit and went on my way to wait for the new pair.

Yesterday I got the call that they were ready and I carefully picked out an outfit that I knew would go well with them. Yeah…I did that. When I got them I put them on and sat in my car for a good ten minutes just staring.

Dear lord I look like a librarian, I thought to myself. I stared a bit longer…

Throughout the day I continued to stare. I was fascinated with the new me. I continued to like it more and more. In fact, I decided I was at least a sexy librarian. Besides, as I watched BBC’s Sherlock Holmes Irene Adler herself said that “brainy was the new sexy.” And the glasses made me look brainy. So clearly, the glasses made me look more attractive.

I’ve learned something with my new glasses. I embrace it. In fact, I like the way I look with glasses better than without them. Plus, I’m a blogger and a journalism major, so I definitely fit the role.

So here’s to all those who wear glasses. Raise your cups of coffee or whatever you’re drinking at the moment you hipsters, you Magic aficionados, you intellectuals, and you Comicon fanatics! Raise your cups in union as the group of people who looks sexy, because damn we all look good!

Four eyes are definitely sexier than two…but for those who don’t wear glasses, well, you’re sexy too.  

The Jean Problem

I love jeans. They’re my solution to many simple problems. If I don’t want to shave my legs? Jeans. If I want to show off a cute shirt? Jeans. If my uterus is throwing a tantrum because I haven’t fertilized my eggs? Dark jeans.

Regardless of the occasion, jeans tend to be my “go-to” pants choice. That is, of course, so long as they fit…

My weight likes to yo-yo over the year. During the fall and winter, school leads me to stress and lose weight (it’s opposite I know). During the summer, well, I’m at home eating my parents’ food…one does not simply pass up seconds of Italian food! I’d love to say stuffing my face is balanced with equally epic workout plans, but that just doesn’t happen.

And inevitably the morning comes when I go to throw on a pair of jeans and this happens:

  1. There’s tightness around my thighs as I pull them up.
  2. My butt takes up the space where I could once put my hands in my back pockets.
  3. Buttoning them suddenly becomes a yoga exercise and a denial phase…

–        “Suck it in!” Stomach sucked in, posture rigid and slightly bending backwards…the extra jump to pull them up…

–        “Maybe I’m bloated….” “Have I pooped today? No. They’ll fit after I go.”

The worst part? They do not fit after I go to the bathroom. The struggle is real.

Of course then it comes to having to shop for jeans that will fit my well-fed body. That’s when the self-loathing and inner sobbing begins. It all comes down to the number. I hate that stupid number on the tag. No matter if it makes me look good that number makes me walk out of that dressing room mildly depressed. It’s equivalent to the pain I feel after math tests.

Dealing with that number is a battle I face. I’d love to be a size four or something small like that. My reality though is that I will never achieve that size healthily. I am a proud Hispanic who has the butt and boobs to match the ethnicity. That J-Lo butt just does not fit in a small size.

Guess what? It’s okay. That fact is something I have to remember on a constant basis. It’s okay if I never fit into tiny jeans. I ought to embrace the body I have. I may eat a little bit more than I ought to, but I am beautiful just the way I am.

As I write this post, the new song “Try” by Colbie Caillat is playing. If you haven’t already watched the music video I’d definitely recommend it.

At the end of the day, don’t be afraid to buy a new pair of jeans. Live life to the fullest, enjoy that favorite dish of yours, and don’t be afraid to embrace the body you have. It’s beautiful just the way it is.

Hey if you want some more really awesome blogs to read just check out some of these. They’re really great reads and the bloggers are pretty cool as well:

  1. Green Embers
  2. Ronovanwrites
  3. Feliciakimmel
  4. Maria9saif
  5. Bmyshot

***Youtube video is Kristin Schrot’s not mine.

My Valentine’s Day plans…

Okay, let’s face it. Every woman in America was having a minor hot flash as the release of the Fifty Shades trailer was aired on Thursday. I was one of them. Woooohoooo!

Now, I’ll be honest. The concept of a man with severe mental baggage forcing me in to sexual acts is a little too intense and borderline creepy for me…

However, if the man I was with decided to use vanilla ice cream and a tie to, uh, get things going well I certainly wouldn’t object. Like at all. I suppose it’s time to go out and find myself a Christian Grey…minus the baggage of course.

The day the trailer came out my phone was bombarded with texts from my friends asking, “Ohh my god have you seen the trailer yet??”

So of course I had to watch it. And as I did, my estrogen levels spiked way, way up. I texted my friends about it and we began to gush over the movie.

Yes, the male lead was not who I pictured as Christian, but it’s incredibly difficult to please every woman’s idea of what he ought to look like.

My ex-roommate, of whom I talked about in my last post, was very pleased with the trailer. Our conversation went a little like this:

Natasha: “Dear God this trailer is beautiful.”

Me: “I want to be Anastasia…”

Natasha: “OH GOD YES!”

Me: “Sooo we’re going to watch it?”

Natasha: “Of course we are. I’ll bring a vibrator if you do!”


Natasha: “Just saying…”

Me: “We wouldn’t be the only ones. There’s going to be a quiet steady buzz of many women enjoying the movie…”

We tend to be rather blatant in our conversations. One of the many side effects of being roommates for a year. Though just as a disclaimer: I do not have a vibrator! Neither does she. Trust me, I was her roommate so I would know. Fifty shades will be very similar to Magic Mike in the sense that the theater will be overrun with excited women who will happily go home and greet their men. Just saying!

Throughout the rest of that day I had many other amusing conversations with pleased women. Needless to say, I think there will be an entourage of us going to that movie. My Valentine’s Day plans are set. Who’s with me??

The phases of roommate relations

Ah the dorm life. It’s just great. Privacy becomes a thing of the past. You get to shower in stalls while someone else’ shower water splashes your toes from the adjoining stalls, listen to the sound of alcohol saturated women stumble in the hallway trying to find their rooms, and best of all you get to poop in community style bathrooms….

And being women we know exactly who is stinking it up by the shoes you’re wearing (Ugg season is everyone’s savior in the bathroom). Privacy is really nonexistent.

However, the most interesting thing about college is the roommate situation. More often than not you’re going to end up with a stranger. Being squished in a 10 foot by 15 foot room is so much fun. Especially when the periods sync. Then it gets really fun.

Now let me just say that my roommate and I get along great now. In fact, she’s one of my closest friends…but it wasn’t always that way. Our roommate relationship went through three phases:

  1. The “Let’s be best buddies forever!!!” phase
  2. The “I’m about to shank a b***h!” phase
  3. The “No shame…” phase

The first phase lasted for a grand total of a month and a half. We got along famously. If either of us were hungry we’d go get something to eat. If either of us wanted to do something fun we’d go out and do stuff together and then of course return to our room where we got to spend even more time with each other. We shared a tv, microwave, and a mini fridge. It was like living in a Bob Marley song, it was all happiness…

Minus the cannabis. Just saying.

And then of course phase two hit… We got tired of each other. Really, really tired of each other. It’s one thing if you’re upset with someone and you can separate yourself for a while, but no, being mad at each other meant angrily staring at opposite walls.

The lack of communication and constant tension continued to build until one day things exploded over a sweater… through angry text messages…

Yeah, real mature right? My generation in a nutshell…

Anyways, we went overboard. Everything that was hers went on one side of the room and everything that was mine went on the other. It was as if we had erected the Berlin wall between us. We weren’t going to do anything, but we sure as hell were going to be as intimidating and silently angry as possible. This continued the rest of first semester. I got my own fridge and microwave, and the tension stayed there.

Thankfully we had a month off for winter break and had the chance to get away from each other. When we came back from break things were still awkward. The room was still split down the middle and covered with ice( a metaphor for the awkwardness that was still there). It wasn’t until we had a nice random conversation about why our boobs annoyed us that things finally calmed between us.

Yes, boobs saved us. And yes to the men reading this, we women do in fact talk about our boobs. On a somewhat regular basis actually.

This is when phase three hit…

After our argument and the newly-made friendship that followed, nothing was off limits. We simply didn’t care. We talked about everything. There was no subject left untouched. And don’t even get me started on how comfortable we got. I could walk in the room from taking a shower and toss my towel to the side and search for clothes without her ever even blinking in surprise.

We simply had no shame around each other. We lived in the same room and after being stuck with that person for several months you just learn to not care.

It was great. I could go pants-less to bed and not feel awkward about it.

By the end of the year we were close friends and I was sorry that our roommate life was ending. She was getting an apartment one place and I was moving to a different one. To this day she is still one of my closest friends.

Having a roommate is hard, but it teaches a great lesson. You learn how to deal with people you might not otherwise interact with on a day to day basis.

On a completely random note, shout out to Ronovanwrites for helping to get my blog out there. His blog content is really cool and has something for everyone. He’s also one of the most polite and kind bloggers I’ve had the chance to come in contact with. Check him out!

Why shaving sucks

I hate shaving. I really do. Yes, I will admit I love when my legs are smooth, but the process of getting nicely shaved legs is a real pain. However, prior to a date it’s a necessary part of the routine. Why is that? When in society did the style of smooth legs become a norm? I mean God forbid we let men know that our legs – and our lady parts – grow hair.

The first thing I despise about shaving, is the amount of time it takes to get everything. You can’t go quickly, oh no, you have to take your time or else you end up looking like you’ve been attacked by vicious squirrels on your legs. Am I the only one who can easily take 20-30 minutes shaving?

This brings me to another reason why I hate shaving: the cuts. I cannot tell you the amount of times I have nicked my knees or my ankles and wondered if I was going to bleed out from that little cut. It’s like the bleeding won’t stop! And of course, once it’s healed, I have a talent for nicking myself in the exact same spot.

As if that isn’t enough, there’s always the dreaded missed spot. I don’t care how long I take and how OCD I become while shaving, I have that one little area that becomes magically immune to the stupid razor. As I move my hand over my leg to inspect a job well done, there’s always a damn patch or strip just staring at me…usually around the parts I try not to nick or on my thighs.

The biggest pet peeve of mine when it comes to shaving, is the body contortion I resort to in order to get everything. One leg propped up on a ledge, one hand pushing my inner thigh away, the other hand gently shaving to make sure I don’t slice any important lady parts off….yeah that’s a pain. I feel like there ought to be a shaving yoga class based on the moves I do while shaving in the shower.

Overall, shaving just plain sucks. I could rant for days over why I hate it, but in the end I do it anyways. Whether it be for dates or in order to avoid looking like Chewbacca while wearing shorts, I am a slave to the razor….

But not today. Today as I write I feel the prickliness of my leg hair poking my skin as I cross my legs. Today I rebel…until I shower later…ugh.

What’re your thoughts on shaving?

I am NOT Megan Fox in the bedroom…


There are a lot of moments in life, especially in mine, that require a palm-to-face response. In my later teen years, I read a lot of sweetheart romance novels that defined “sexy time” as easy going and passionate. You never saw any of Nora Robert’s characters epically failing at seduction!

I, however, am not one of Nora Robert’s characters. In fact, I am quite the opposite. If there was an anti-Christ of seduction, it would be me! It just doesn’t happen for me. I cannot count the amount of times that I have had a set scene in my head and the execution of it failed with flying colors.

One of the more memorable moments occurred when I tried to strip tease for my boyfriend at the time…

We had been together for a while at that point and I wanted to bump things up to the next level. I spent the afternoon at the mall carefully finding the perfect outfit…I wanted to look Hot, like Megan Fox hot…

I splurged on a sexy pair of underwear and a matching bra and decided I was going to show up in a cute top and leggings (I spent my budget on the undergarments…college problems).

That night I showed up to his place, movies in hand and wearing what I thought to be an enticing outfit. He happily grabbed the movies, gave me a kiss and plopped down to put the movies in. I sat on the couch hoping he’d notice the cleavage that was slightly peeking out of the top I’d chosen….he glanced over but said nothing.

As the movie progressed I grew impatient and leaned in closer with my chest angled towards him…still nothing. “So I bought something new today,” I said trying to get his attention.

“Did you?” he replied back, turning towards me. I asked him if he wanted to see and slightly confused he nodded. I stood up in front of him and as best as I could slowly peeled off my top.

He was paying attention now.

Encouraged, I looked at him, smiled and put my hands on my leggings and started to shimmy them down. As I pulled them down his eyes became super focused and widened.

He shouldn’t be that excited yet, I thought to myself. But something felt wrong. I was getting way too much air in my downtown regions. I looked down and what I saw took a second to register in my head.

The underwear I had bought was thin so it had rolled down with my leggings, leaving my lower area completely exposed…

Anyone else would have gone with it but no, not me. I panicked. I immediately squeaked in embarrassment and sat down as quickly as I could onto the couch while yanking the leggings back up.

My boyfriend fell to the ground laughing. I was mortified. I was not ready to be so bold in bright lighting. To make matters worse I conked my head against the side of the couch as I rolled to hide my face, which only made him laugh harder.

In the end, the night went successfully but he never let me live it down. Needless to say I never tried to strip tease again, and he certainly never asked. But boy how he loved to bring it up…