Author: Amelia

I’m starting to catch my breath. After a few long talks with loved ones, a lot of even longer talks with myself, and a day in a snow covered cabin, I feel like things are slowly working their way back to normal; no…. better than normal.

One of the very few positive things about these slumps is that I can only sit in it for so long. After a few days of dark and stormy wallowing, I find myself itching to make a change, and that itch motivates me, and feeling motivated inspires me, and feeling inspired is my favorite feeling in the world. And before I knew it, I had a game plan to “turn that frown upside down”.

The first two steps of my game plan were logical.

Step One: A lot of times, when a person who suffers from anxiety and/or depression is taking medication for said anxiety and/or depression, that medication needs to be adjusted as that person’s life changes. This has been a really tricky back and forth for me. I constantly wonder if I should be on something different or if I should be taking anything at all. I really want to believe the people who say you don’t need medication for these things, but I’ve tried that and as you may or may not remember that experiment ended with me in a gas station parking lot gasping for air, for no particular reason whatsoever. But, then I think about how different I’ve felt over the last 4 to 6 months as I’ve been on something (after not being on anything for a while) and I don’t mean a good different, not even close. The highs have been really high and the lows have been really low and I honestly haven’t felt good being me for awhile. My mom affirmed that the other night; I haven’t been myself lately, which made the following decision pretty easy. Time to ween off this one and see what happens. I don’t really know what I’ll do once this stuff is out of my system. One of the ironies of anxiety disorder is that it seems to be something you have to take day-by-day, which for an anxious person is terribly painful.

Step Two: I finally found an unbiased person to bounce my thoughts off of (which is the sugar coated way to say, therapist). I personally think everyone needs an “unbiased person to bounce thoughts off of” and I am SO relieved to have found mine! Again, there is some trial and error here, and finding the right one can take a few trials (hopefully no errors), but I’ve started the process and that feels like a giant accomplishment. (Side note: If you’re in LA and looking for someone, I found a great center and would be happy to pass along the information). 

My final step wasn’t as tangibly logical, but was still completely necessary.

Step Three: I eased up on Amelia. I’ve been really hard on myself lately and I think I finally figured out why. I spent an entire year sober, and that was awesome, and with that came a lot of praise and pats on the back. Last year was the first time in my life I had a label that I liked, that I was proud of. And then I took it away. And when I took it away, I replaced it with some really nasty labels, and the more I told myself I was those things, the more I believed that and the less I believed in who I really am.

So. No more labels. If you ask me to describe myself in one word, I can’t. There isn’t just one word that exists to describe any of us and asking me to put myself into a one-word box is kinda mean and really boring.

One of my favorite authors wrote in one of my favorite books “The ultimate truth of who you are is not I am this, or I am that, but I Am.”

There’s a peace that comes with knowing nothing has to follow my “I Am”, and I’m going to hang out in that peace for awhile.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.

Just one of the many lies, masked in a cute little rhyme, our parents and teachers drilled into our brains.

Words hurt. A lot.

What people say about me and to me, affects me. Some of it is easy to brush off and some of it plays over and over in my head like a broken record. Some of it dictates my own thoughts, and a lot of it has been dictated by me.

As some of you may or may not know, I spend my days surrounded by children. Babysitting is my actor day job, and I love the children I get to be around. In fact, I love them so much, if I heard any of them talking about themselves, the way I’ve been talking about myself lately, they’d get a long time out and a serious heart-to-heart.

So, Amelia. Go to your room, and think about what you’ve said. (That’s what I’ve been doing tonight).

I’ve been really hard on myself lately, especially this week; as I’ve bombed auditions, stressed about money, felt so lonely it physically hurt. I’ve called myself a failure, an idiot. I’ve wondered what’s wrong with me and what I need to fix. To put it less dramatically, I’ve been in one hell of a slump. (Which is ironic, considering the last blog I wrote was a love letter to myself. What a hypocrite.)

If you’ve been following this blog, you remember my post about a year ago when I dove head first into the topic of anxiety and depression. Well, these slumps are one of the many symptoms of the aforementioned “disorders”. They usually take some time to build and after a few rough days, you wake up feeling like you wish you hadn’t woken up. Yet, you drag your ass out of bed and tell yourself over and over again that things will turn around in no time. But, when they don’t turn around fast enough for your liking, the black hole gets bigger and harder to crawl out of.

Yeah. It sucks.

This is the first post I’ve ever written while I’m smack dab in the middle of the now infamous slump. I usually wait till the storm has passed and the lesson’s been learned so that I can write some inspirational, healing message.

I guess I think it’s important to share the bad with the good. In a few days or weeks or months, I’ll go back and read this and remember how gross it felt and pat myself on the back for coming out of it on top.

Because no matter how dark and stormy it gets, I always seem to find a way out.

Resilient. That’s a word I’d write on myself tonight.

 

Dear Amelia,

You talk to yourself a lot, both out loud and in your head, and I’ve heard some of the things you’ve been saying lately…. and they ain’t cool.

So on this Valentine’s Day, I wanted to take a moment to remind you that you are loved. And since I’ve always been a better write than a talker, I thought, why not tell you in a love letter.

I love you. I love you so much sometimes it feels like my heart could burst. I get excited to wake up every morning in your skin. You have a great life. Sure, sometimes it seems “boring” and sometimes you catch yourself day dreaming about an adventure you think may never happen, but let me remind you, every day with you is an adventure. You look at the world with a unique set of eyes. You can turn an ordinary day into something extraordinary. You have that magic in you.

Not only do I love you, but the people in your life feel the same way. The kids you spend your weeks with, love you. Your friends, love you. Your family, loves you. Trust that. Trust that you are so, so loved.

The last thing I need to tell you is this: you are worthy of that love. You are worthy of the love you give yourself and the love you recieve from others. Let go of any pain from your past trying to tell you otherwise and live in the present moment surrounded by all of this love! It is a gift, and it’s okay to recieve it.

You are beautiful. You are kind. You are smart. And you are loved. Don’t just know these things, own these things. You are enough, Amelia Ruth Brantley. Never forget it.

I love you, always.

-Amelia

 

When I was brainstorming for my final blog of 2015, I kept getting hung up on how to end it. I wanted to find the perfect one line to capture my accomplishment. I thought about it for a while and thought about how dramatic, and difficult, and incredible the year had been, and I finally wrote “and she lived happily ever after”. Right before I was about to publish my post I deleted that line.

And let me tell you, am I glad I did that!

Everyone keeps asking me what it’s like now that I’m drinking again. I think everyone expects me to say something profound or talk about all the good choices I’ve made and how responsible I’ve been.

And, I think everyone has been really disappointed by the answer they get.

That’s not to say I haven’t been responsible or made good choices, I have. But, I’ve also been irresponsible and made some really bad choices.

In some ways, drinking in 2016, after a year of sobriety, has felt a lot like drinking in 2014, before my year of sobriety.

When I realized that, I started to panic. I wondered if maybe I did have a problem with alcohol. If I’m still capable of making the same poor life choices under the influence, maybe I need to permanently eliminate the influence. I wondered if I was being too hard on myself. I wondered if I wasn’t being hard enough.

In the last month, I’ve had countless glasses of wine, a couple whiskey’s, two solid hangovers, and one somewhat regretful night. Again, I’ve decided to keep a diary this year, so I’m going to leave my dirty laundry crumpled in the corner of my closet and not go into too much detail here, but yeah, I’ve done a few things that I wish I could call “do-over” on.

I can’t say I regret anything though. Ultimately, everything that has happened was meant to happen and what I wanted to happen. I do wish I could’ve done some stuff differently, spared a few feelings and dramatic conversations, but at the end of the day, it is what it is. What happened, happened.

I know, that sounds a bit harsh or careless, but I promise it isn’t.

Drinking again, and having too much fun and saying I’m sorry the next day to either myself or someone else has just made me realize this; I’m 28 years old and I’m still figuring shit out and it’s okay to make a mistake every once in a while or order a third drink on a Friday night or even do something that hurts someone else. It’s part of being human. It’s part of being a young(ish) human, in a big city, with a lot of life to sort out. It’s messy and painful and so confusing and sometimes it feels like, “what’s the point!”, and then other times, it’s fun and adventurous, and freeing and I feel like I never want to grow up because trekking through the mud and gunk feels so good.

There’s no such thing as “happily every after”, it doesn’t exist and I think that’s great. Life is a constant learning curve. I’m never going to get it all right. Sober or not, I’m never going to be perfect. I’m never going to live this picturesque, well-ironed life that I constantly have playing in my mind. It’s not in the cards for me and I’m really grateful for that. I want to keep learning and trekking and figuring the shit out because that’s called living.

I intend to do a lot of living this year. I intend to stumble and spill a glass of red wine all over my white blouse. I intend to laugh until I cry and cry until I laugh. I intend to apologize a lot and forgive even more. I intend to take deep breaths and trust that everything happens for a reason and I am exactly where I intend to be.

Two years ago I had my first director’s session for a major motion picture being produced by Sony. It was a big deal. I got sent straight to the director for a small part opposite Kevin Hart. I knew one of the producers on the film, so I thought I was a shoe-in, so much so, I called SAG to make sure I knew exactly how much it would cost to join the union and how quickly I would need to get it done before I started filming.

Needless to say, I didn’t get the part. That same night, my producer-friend called to give me the bad news. The reason? “The other girl you were up against had more twitter followers.”

As if the knife couldn’t have gone any deeper into my heart, that reason made me want to simultaneously cry, barf, and kill. That was the day I decided to get in with the cool kids and start a social media following, which is a lot harder than it sounds.

My twitter never really took off, mainly because I didn’t really like using it, so I didn’t “tweet” enough. Although, one time I did get drunk and live tweet while I was watching “You’ve Got Mail” for the first time in 10+ years, and that was pretty funny. But, right around the time I was being told to tweet more by my managers, Instagram was becoming a thing, a really big thing. I had an Instagram and thoroughly enjoyed torturing my then-boyfriend with cheesy couple’s photos, but I had under 100 followers and no one really “liked” my photos because, well, I was either kissing my dog or my boyfriend in all of them and that’s like, “cool story, bro”.

Actually, my social media game didn’t get much stronger until mid/late last year. I started posting old modeling photos on my Instagram and realized that they were getting a lot of attention and frankly, that felt good. So I started posting more. Every time I posted one, I cringed a little. I felt pretty vain, spending 10 minutes deciding between the “Mayfair” or “Sierra” filter and another 15 minutes trying to come up with a cool girl, but not-full-of-myself caption. Once I learned the power of a few hashtags, I tacked on another 5 minutes, making sure I didn’t miss an #actorslife or a #model.

Fast forward to today. I’ve spent upwards of an hour perfecting an Instagram post. I’ve come up with a filter theme and color scheme, I’ve google searched endlessly for the perfect book or inspirational quote. I’ve actually done photoshoots JUST so I have more photos to post. Not kidding. I did one two days ago. With a photographer I met on Instagram. I went to his apartment, without ever meeting him beforehand and let him photograph me wearing- well, if you’ve seen my posts recently, you know what I was wearing, or wasn’t wearing for that matter. CAN YOU SAY STRANGER DANGER?!!? The entire way over there I was thinking “you’re an idiot and this is definitely how you’re going to get murdered one day”.

Not only is what I’ve been doing really dumb and pretty risky, but I also HATE doing it. I hate photoshoots! I’ve never liked them! I don’t even like getting my headshots done! When I was modeling professionally and getting paid to be on a set, I still hated every minute of it, but at least I was getting a paycheck out of it. What am I getting out of this? A couple hundred “likes”, a few new followers, and a plethora of DM’s from men in India saying they want to “meet” me if they ever come to the states.

So why am I/was I doing it? I justified it with a lot of reasons, that were/are legitimate. Casting directors look at this stuff when deciding to call you in for a part. Studios look at it when deciding whether or not to give you a part. My blog got a lot more attention when I linked it to my Instagram. It felt good to get 300 likes on a selfie. Ultimately, that last reason is what kept up my charade.

I know everyone talks about this now, the social media addiction and what it does to our psyche. Let me tell you firsthand, all those articles and doctors and studies are right. Social media has been feeding into my daily demons. “You aren’t good enough”. “No one likes you”. “You’ll never be what you want to be”. I post a picture highlighting my “assets” and immediately those demons are quieted by the hearts and (occasionally creepy) comments.

So, I’m aware of all of this. I have been for a while now, but that didn’t stop me from my prompt 9am #undies posts.

What did? Realizing how I was presenting myself to this world of unknown @’s and hearts.

I just scrolled through some of these images and for the first time, I looked at them as if I didn’t know me. What would I think if I stumbled upon @ameliabrantley? A few words came to mind.

“Instagram Model”. “Desperate”. “Broken”. “Lonely”. “Put some pants on”.

Less than a year ago I was crying/laughing at girls like me on Instagram, partly out of jealousy, but mainly out of disgust.

In short, my Instagram grossed me out. And I know I’m not alone. My friends, the people who know me and care about me have made comments on my social media developments. Just last night, my two best girlfriends (who also happen to be two of the smartest women I know) “jokingly” made a comment about how I would never have to send them a naked selfie, because they can just look at my Instagram. My sister (another smartypants) rolls her eyes every time I ask “should I post this?”. And another of my friends commented a few weeks ago that it was getting borderline pornographic (although I still think that’s a tad extreme).

And then tonight…. I was texting one of my closest guy friends, someone who, I know, loves and respects me, and someone who also likes and comments on my risqué photos. He said something along the lines of “I love you, but you’re a slut”.

That hit me like a ton of bricks. Not because of the term he used, even though that was super harsh, but because I TOTALLY understood what he meant.

I’ve gotten kinda “slutty”. (For the record: I HATE that word, and all of its synonyms, and I wish I could think of something more PC right now, but it’s late and I’m on a rant).

I should clarify. Me, Amelia, the person, is not “slutty”. My sexual habits haven’t changed. My skirts haven’t gotten shorter. My cleavage hasn’t gotten bigger, and any other cliche you want to throw onto that terrible choice of words. But, my persona, the character I am presenting to the world as a way to market myself and further my career… she’s a little slutty.

And that’s not how I want to be seen. It’s false advertising. For example…

I recently met a guy on Instagram (when you’re posting daily pics of you in your undies, meeting dudes that way is so much easier than swiping right). I’m not going to get into the gritty details because well, this year I’m keeping a diary so I don’t need to burden you readers with all of that, but I’m 90% sure this guy thinks that I’m the “one-night-stand, it’s okay, you don’t have to call me” girl. I’m not saying there is ANYTHING wrong with being that girl, to each her own, but that is SO not who I am! I feel bad because in a way, it’s like I lied to the dude.

And now for the real kicker.

Want to know how I went from 500 followers to 3400 in less than three months? I’ve been paying an Instagram “marketing” team $80 a month to push my Instagram. Basically, a group of robots with my password log into my Instagram and search for other people’s photos using the hashtags I use the most (#actor, #actorslife, #model, #modellife, #photoshoot). They like and make generic comments (Awesome. Great gallery. Cool pic.) on these other photos and thanks to social media etiquette, most of those people comment or like one of my photos in return, and, if the majority of your photos feature you in black underwear and knee highs, chances are a lot of those people are going to follow you.

Yeah. I know. Ridiculous.

As I post this, I’m deleting any photos from my Instagram that I feel do not accurately represent me and/or photos I would never want my Mom to see (she doesn’t have Instagram and has no interest in it so she hasn’t see what I’ve been up to). No more lingerie. No more #modellife. If posing for thousands of strangers in my underwear is what it takes to book a job, that’s not the job I want. If a director wants to turn me down for my lack of a following, let him/her. I just don’t want to play this game anymore.

From here on out, I vow to use social media for myself, to share my semi-daily, semi-exciting adventures. Sure, there will probably be an #actorslife or #photoshoot or even a #selfie in there every now and then, but only when it seems appropriate, and never again to build my self-esteem or get to 10k followers.

With a little help from my friends, I slapped myself with a dose of reality tonight. I don’t need social media to validate who I am. I am a 28 year-old, struggling actress, who on most days, is fully clothed and pretty boring, and I really “like” her.

As I type this I have less than seven hours of sobriety left to go. All day I’ve been thinking about how CRAZY it is that this is my last day. I actually did this. I went a year sober. I kept a New Year’s Resolution (who does that, really?!).

So, how do I feel? I feel good. I feel really good.

I’ve recieved such encouraging and celebratory messages today and I am so grateful for everyone who has reached out. You all know who you are and I hope you know that I wouldn’t have been able to keep going without you. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it a thousand more times…. THANK YOU!

When things got hard this year, my mom would tell me to read over my blog and everything I wrote, and I never did. I didn’t want to read what I wrote after it was posted. I was saving that for Day 365. Today, I sat down and I read every post from the beginning.

My mom told me that she once spent an afternoon reading all of my posts (she is my biggest fan after all) and by the end of it she just thought “wow”. She was amazed and proud of the work I had done and where I was going. She wanted me to understand that and feel the same way, and after I read through it all today, I did.

There were moments as I was reading that I forgot I was the one who wrote it. I caught myself agreeing with this writer as if the writer wasn’t me. That felt really good. Reading through it all felt really, really good.

I recently told someone that I feel like I’ve spent the last year taking a Masterclass on myself. These blog entries were part of that class, they were my homework, and looking them over made me realize I learned A LOT.

The biggest, over-all lesson I learned through this experience is: I AM ENOUGH. Who I am, regardless of the things I have or where I am; this goofy, confident, sarcastic, loving, ridiculous, emotional being, is….  enough.

In my very first post I wrote, “I hope that by the end of this year, my 8 year old self will want to give me a high five”.

And I’m happy to report, I think she does.

The other day I did something that may have been the bravest thing I’ve done all year.

I listened to the new Adele CD for the first time, while hiking the hard side of Runyon Canyon.

My body experienced extreme muscle confusion, and not the good kind all the fitness magazines tell you to strive for. I’m talking about the other muscles that control things like tear ducts and gag reflexes. About four songs in and half way up the second giant slope, my body didn’t know if it was supposed to be barfing or crying.

I got to the top of the third and final, giant slope and collapsed. I was physically and emotionally exhausted and I needed to take a breather.  I found a spot to sit, that was mostly secluded and had an amazing view of the city. I let my mind wander and my lungs catch up, and then the song switched and I started really listening to what was playing through my headphones.

Music has a funny way of sneaking up on you and giving you exactly what you need in the moment. The song was called, “Remedy”, and as I listened to the words I just thought “yes”.

I sat on the edge of this cliff looking out at the city I’ve called home for nine years and I told myself, by the time this song is over, I’m going to let go. And I did.

I let go of things, ideas, thoughts, beliefs that I’ve been holding onto not just this year, but for the last decade.

I let go of feeling like a failure. I let go of the expecatations I had when I moved to LA at 19. I let go of career frustration. I let go of the pilot I didn’t book in February, and the top of show guest star I didn’t get in June, and the soap opera contract that didn’t happen in November. I let go of the need to book a job to validate myself as an actor and a creator. I let go of the guilt I feel from still relying on my parents financially. I let go of the burden of not knowing where my next paycheck will come from. I let go of the boy who broke my heart a few months ago, and the one before him, and the one before him. I let go of the need to settle down before I’m 30. I just let it all go, emotionally, mentally, phsyically. I let tears stream down my face and when the song was over, I took a deep breath, I got up, and I ran down the canyon.

I’ve been building up to this moment, this release for a while now. I didn’t know it would happen the way it did and it would be so specific and clear and wonderful, but I’ve definitely been feeling the need to let it go.

That need stemmed from realizing that none of it matters. At the end of the day, my job, who I’m dating, how many likes my photos get on Instagram, what kind of car I drive, what neighborhood I live in, the amount of money in my bank out, all these things don’t matter.

I think a lot of people realize that to some extent. I think where people struggle is in thinking, “Ok, so if that stuff doesn’t matter, then what does?”

You.

You are the only thing that matters in this moment, and since this moment is all we ever have. You. Are. What. Matters.

The outter stuff is all fleeting. You’ll have highs and lows, good days and bad, one day you’ll be poor, the next day you’ll be rich, but who you are in the deepest part of your being, will always be there.

Live for that and let that energy guide you and inspire you and everything else will fall into place.

It was about this time last year that I started telling close family and friends my plan to be sober in 2015. So, it seems only fitting that I let you all know what I’m planning for 2016!

This year, I got so much more than I expected from being sober for 365 days. I got a lot of heartache and anixety and tears, but I also got A TON of love, support, motivaiton, inspiration, personal discovery, faith…. the list goes on and on.

The desire to be sober for a year came from frustration with my career. I had this mindset last year, that God was punishing me because I wasn’t acting responsibly. I had convinced myself that I wasn’t booking acting jobs because God couldn’t trust me with that kind of work because I was making bad choices when it came to drinking and socializing. I thought that if I quit drinking for a year, I would surely start booking some work then.

BOY, WAS I WRONG!

I haven’t drank in 326 days, and I haven’t booked a job in 326 days.

But I learned something from this (obviously)….

I can’t control it. There is no rhyme or reason to the career I’ve chosen. I’ve spent the last nine years in LA trying to figure out how to “make it”. Actors who have just moved to LA or are thinking about moving, ask me for advice ALL THE TIME, and I usually put together some kind of inspirational “you can do it!” response, but the truth is, I am just as clueless.

I can tell you what I’ve been doing for the last nine years. What school I went to, who I study with now, how I got my first agent, how I got my fourth agent, what workshops to take, and who to network with, but the only thing I can say with 100% confidence is that my story will not be your story.

There’s no formula when you’re trying to be an actor. There’s no corportate ladder to climb. It doesn’t matter what school you went to or how many degrees you have (really wish someone would have told me that before I took out $90k in student loans). Your mom will have to pay your rent one month, and the next month you could be flying your family to Hawaii to celebrate your big TV star booking. It’s unstable, unpredictable, but wonderfully unbelieveable.

Ok, so I guess there is one other thing I can say with full confidence, and that is, don’t be afraid to live your life.

I’m 28 years old, and I don’t think I’ve really lived yet. I’ve always been afraid of doing things because I was afraid it would mess up all the work and progress I’ve made towards my career goals. I’ve never travelled outside of the US (I don’t even have a passport) because I’ve been afraid to leave LA in case an audition comes up. I’ve never dyed my hair because I’ve been afraid to change my look in case I get a callback for that pilot I auditioned for last month. I’ve been afraid to order desert because I have a shoot the next day and don’t want to look bloated. I’ve been holding back on living while trying to build a life and that seems a bit counterintuitive.

I’ve spent nine years working really, really hard on my career, and in 2016, I’m going to let it all go.

I’m still going to be in LA and I’m still going to work my ass off in purusit of what I love, but I’m also going to travel and dye my hair and eat a cupcake whenever I feel like it.

The main theme for 2016 will be travel. My year of travel. I’m going to take three BIG trips this year, with a few little trips sprinkled in there, and I’m going to do all of it SOLO.

Now, that’s not to say I won’t accept (and expect) a few meet-ups where ever I land, but as far as planning and executing my trips, that’ll be all me.

I’ll let my family and friends know where I’m going and the dates I’ll be there and if anyone wants to meet me there, they are more than welcome!

As of right now, I know I will be in Nicaragua at the beginning of the year, Europe in the summer, and (hopefully) Norway in the winter.

And how am I going to pay for all of this? I have some ideas brewing and savings building, but if I’ve learned anything from 2015 it’s that “when you want something bad enough, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it”.

2015 was a year for discovering who I am. 2016 will be the year I put her to the test.

Fear. It’s something that’s been on my mind a lot lately.

I started this new acting class a few weeks ago and on day 1 of the class, I had to stand up in front of everyone and talk about ten things on my bucket list. One thing I blurted out in an uncomfortable panic was “I want to live more fearlessly”. I thought about that more later. What does it mean to live your life “fearlessly”, without fear, and is that even possible?

I’ve been taking baby steps. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had an intense fear of the dark. I’m 28 years old and have been sleeping with a night light for the majority of my life. I challenged myself to stop, and I have, for the most part. (A few nights ago, Warner started barking at an empty corner in my living room and I left the bathroom light on all night just in case the ghost that he was so obviously yapping at decided to say hello to me as well.) Waking up in the morning knowing that my electric bill will be a little cheaper this month does feel pretty good. I gave myself I swift pat on the back.

But, what about the bigger stuff?

What are my bigger fears, my biggest fear?

I’m afraid of dying, rather, dying too soon. There’s so much I want to do in my life and I fear that I won’t have enough time to do it all. That’s a scary thought. It’s even scarier knowing that it’s something I can’t control. I don’t get to decide when my time is up, none of us do. So, how am I suppose to conquer a fear I can’t control?

Well, I started by realizing that I can control it, the fear, I mean. I can’t control my circumstances, but I can control how I look at them and allow them to affect me. I can choose not to be scared. Easier said than done, I know, but it’s do-able, and I’m starting to figure out how.

It all goes back to what I’ve touched on in previous posts. Living in the “now”. If I am present for every moment of my life, there’s no room to fear what could or couldn’t happen next. This “fear” is what Eckhart Tolle refers to as the “ego” and our egos can be a powerful force if we let them take over. The ego is the unconscious thought, our auto-pilot function. It’s the part of us that walks down the street so lost in the past or the future that we end up walking three blocks further than we needed to or tripping over a curb or getting hit by a car. The ego feeds off fear, that’s how it stays alive inside of us. Ironically, the ego fears us, our minds, and the power our minds possess. Because the ego is our unconscious thought, it can not survive if we are conscious and aware of it. The ego dies the moment we recognize it and observe it. It returns when we slip back into unconsciousness. If you haven’t read “The Power of Now” or “A New Earth”, this probably sounds like a lot of hippie-trippie mumbo jumbo, but I promise it’s not, and you should reallly, really read those books.

So, be more present, and be less fearful. Got it. Now, what else? What other big fears do I have to face?

This is hard to type.

Man, you people are lucky I don’t just keep a diary.

One of my biggest fears has been owning up to my feelings…. That’s too general.

One of my biggest fears has always been saying “I love you”. More specifically, saying it to someone I don’t just love, but someone I’m in love with.

I’ve never been the first one to say it in a relationship. I’ve never admitted it if I felt it wasn’t reciprocated. I haven’t acknowledged it if I thought it might end up hurting me. Love is a scary thing. Terrifying.

I remember the first time I thought I was in love. I was young and had a big, giant crush on a boy a little bit older than me. I thought I was “in love”, but it was more of a school girl infatuation, as most emotional roller coasters are in your pre-teen/teenage years. I would blush when I saw him in the halls at school, secretly scirbble his initials in the back of my notebooks, gush to my diary about how he said “hello” to me at a football game, and I got made fun of a lot for it. I think, because that was my first experience with these intense emotions, I was conditioned to think these feelings were always “wrong” or “too much”. Being told that at a young age, kind of set me up for failure in my adult life.

I know I’m not the only one who gets scared when it comes to loving another person. It takes a lot out of us and giving that to someone is no small feat. In the past, my fears have caused me to hesitate and miss a chance at being with someone, they’ve caused me to close off, and sometimes, they’ve caused me to cheat and hurt someone I really cared about. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff because of this enormous fear, and recently, I decided enough was enough. Time to own up to my feelings and face my fears.

And, that’s what I did.

In the interest of protecting the innocent, I’m not going to share too much of how I finally faced my fear, but I’ll share a bit.

There was/is a boy who I fell for a while ago, and who did not reciprocate those feelings and was honest about that. I tried to play along and pretend that my feelings weren’t there. I put on my best poker face, and cutest outfits, and acted like the buddy he wanted me to be. I realized recently, I was doing all of that out of fear. I was afraid to tell him I loved him because I was afraid I would lose him. And then one day, I decided to be fearless. I bit the heart-shaped bullet and I confessed to him how I felt. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but man, am I glad I did it.

After I had poured my heart out and hung up the phone, I had that feeling you get after you’ve just come out of a haunted house or off of a scary roller coaster. That excited, accomplished feeling that makes you want to do it all over again. I took that as a good sign. Maybe, hopefully, the next time I fall for someone, I won’t be scared to say it. I’ll be excited to feel it. I think that’s how love is supposed to work, right?

I’ll end this post with some great advice I got from my four-year-old bestie on fear and being afraid. She told me that whenever you find yourself scared of something, you should stare it down and say out loud “What’s so scary about that?”.

So, what are you afraid of?

(Right now, I’m afraid of pushing the blue Publish button on this screen.)

Well…. “What’s so scary about that?”

Last November, I was sitting at a bar with two friends, telling them about my plans for 2015. I announced that I would be completely sober for an entire year. They both looked at me in disgust and asked “why?”. As I sipped on my very large glass of Shiraz, I explained to them that I wanted to be more present in my life. I wanted to remember the nights I go out and the things I talk about and the people I meet. I was sick of walking around in a blur, which is what most of 2014 felt like to me. Fast forward to October 2015. I’m 286 days sober, and I just started to figure out what being present really means.

If you’ve been following this blog, you know I’ve struggled with anxiety/depression for basically my entire life. I’ve always been so consumed by the pain from my past and the anticipation of my future, that I’ve very rarely been in the moment, or in the “now” as my new BFF Eckhart Tolle would say. I preach about being grateful, but that’s hard to do when you’re constantly focused on why that guy broke you’re heart six months ago or wondering when you’re going to get that big career break you’ve been dreaming about for nine years. I’m learning that nothing new can come into your life if you can’t be grateful for what you already have, and you can’t be grateful for what you have if you don’t stop to look at it in the moment.

I’ve been reading books and really trying to practice this “present” mentaility for the last few weeks, and I really got to put it to the test this past weekend.

On Saturday night, I found myself in a desert just outside of Las Vegas with 20,000 other people lighting paper lanterns and watching them float up into the sky. There are no words, pictures, or videos that will do it justice. This kind of thing has to be experinced first-hand to fully understand the magic, but bear with me while I do my best to find the words.

When you walk into the festival, you’re given a yoga mat to sit on, two paper lanterns, and a pen. I wrote two different things on my lanterns. On the first, I made a wish, and I’m not going to tell you what I wished for because then it won’t come true. On the second lantern, I wrote a letter to someone that I love. At around 9pm, the announcer told everyone to get ready to launch. We started to light our lanterns (which is WAY harder than you think it’d be), and two minutes later the sky lit up. Thousands and thousands of lanterns started floating into the air. I watched my lanterns go up with the rest and couldn’t help but just stand there and cry. I’ve never felt more grounded in my entire life. I felt my toes in the sand and the wind on my face and I smelled the flames coming from the lanterns and heard the music coming from the stage and my heart felt completley full. I was at ease, I was peaceful, I was completely present.

Getting a taste of being present, has only made me want more of that feeling. I’ve been checking in with myself a lot more lately. I’m reading “The Power of Now” and Mr. Tolle says to be in the now, observe your thoughts, don’t judge them, don’t try to change them, just observe them, and once you do that, you elminate what he refers to as the “ego”, the unconscious mind, and you are living in your consciousness and in the Now. I highly reccommend the read for anyone looking to be a little more present.

My hope is that the rest of this year will give “Present-ly Sober” an entirely new meaning, but for now, I’ll focus on the now.