There Are Still Reasons

A few years ago, I wrote a blog post called Reasons to Stay Alive, inspired by part of Matt Haig’s book of the same name. When I reread that post now, I am taken aback at how some of the items on that list mean so little to me today, how my past self once derived so much joy from the littlest most random things that I haven’t thought about in a while. I’m happy for her, though, for finding and holding on to those things. They were excellent things. Today, I’m wanting a little more reminding of the fact that I have many reasons to want to stay alive. So here’s my updated list, that I wrote before looking at my old one.

My journal. 0.38 pin type pens. My dad chuckling at cat video after cat video on Instagram. Squishmallows. Raccoons. Warmies. My tortilla blanket. Soft fluffy things. The way Alice and I reached for the same soft pink blanket at Target. Ears for Peers. Little Free Libraries. Medium hot mocha lattes with oat milk from The Sink. Love of my life Jack Edwards. To learn ASL. Scallion pancakes from Gourmet China House. Riding the T. First dates. Good eggs. Strangers’ reactions to my laptop loudly announcing the wrong time in the common room. Christmas decorations. Tattoos. Books. Spreadsheets. Avocado socks. Overalls. Combat boots. Snuggles. How smoothly O.P.I nail polish applies. Chocolate-coated almonds. Pecan pie. Palmer’s Cocoa Butter Body Lotion and how it makes me smell like a bar of chocolate. Masc eyeliner. Folding clothes. Bringing my friends flowers. Flannel. Fuzzy socks. Thoughtful presents. My to-read list. Fleabag. Cemeteries (lol). My research interests. Bitching about iPhones. Mumma’s cooking. My advisors. Linguistics. Assistive Technology. To get my first tattoo with Chinmay. Exploring new cities. Going for long walks in unfamiliar directions. Fall foliage. Ice skating. Stickers on my water bottle. Getting more piercings. Nani’s Burnol story. Aaji’s chocolate cake. Papaji’s good morning. Nana’s legacy. Ishaan’s coffee. Quarterzips. Paneer tikka masala pizza. Because I gotta get my friends ice cream when they’re going through breakups. James Blackwood raccoon whisperer. Decorating. My therapist. The Most Dangerous Writing App. Relationship anarchy. Music. Singing in the shower. Really hot showers. Bidets. Thai green curry. Topped nachos. Comedy shows. Concerts. Movies in the theatre. Trash movies at 1.25x speed. Good plus size fashion. Talking shit about Noah Centineo movies. Pretty flowers. Forehead massages. Back massages. Unexpected compliments. Self-confidence. Boundaries. Lots of communication. Body doubling. Gamification. Chocolate chip scones. Breakfast quesadillas. My curls. Lifting. Creative Dance. Painting people’s nails. Reconnecting with old friends. Watching my brother grow up. Tiger, Mira, Shunti, even though they don’t care about me. Their purrs. Insomnia cookies. Seeing everyone’s Spotify Wrapped. Sadie. Headphones on, eyes closed type music. The Mapparium. Boston. Tufts professors. My resident babies. TAing Discrete Math. To show my family my life at Tufts. Bookstores. ASMR. Guided meditations. Spotting shooting stars. Close friends playing with my hair. Being tucked in. Strawberry melatonin gummies. Paint and sips. Playing clever video games. The How to ADHD YouTube channel. Lingthusiasm. Ordering delivery. Cheese fondue. Davis Square. Mismatched earrings. Neck kisses. Lip balm. Getting my eyebrows done. Yellow sneakers. Outdoor seating at restaurants. Chai. Cookie butter. Saying miaow for attention. Warms. Color coordination. Fairylights. Pretty skies. Walking past dogs. Tufts Bunnies. Lemon poppy muffins. Amy’s microwave meals. Neurodivergent friends. Mental health jokes. Gay jokes. Learning more about myself. Building more of my Self. Mumma’s art. To watch Baba enjoy retirement. My grandparents’ reactions to me wanting to dye my hair. Pole dancers. Rock climbing videos. Ritz crackers. Pop Tarts. Drive-in theatres. Stargazing. In the middle of nowhere. Falling asleep in a car. Flushed cheeks. Pretty eyes. Handlee font. Stationery-shopping. Making friends try on cute clothes. Camp. Eliot-Pearson Department of Child Study and Human Development. Listening to people talk about things they love. Because I’m funny. Crunchy snow. Grad school. Skating. Chaat. Smooth skin. Fat baby legs that I just want to squeeze. My family. Buying non-gendered toys and clothing for my niece. The gay agenda. To make my first zine. Chocolate chunk cookie pizza. 123 Packard Ave. Accessibility. Talking about pretty houses. Making up stories about interesting houses and their possible occupants. Hugs. Goodbye kisses. New friends. Old friends. Future friends.

To be a better friend to myself.

Some More of the Thinking Thing

Sometimes, you have to wear an old, soft & worn loose shirt, put on a pair of fluffy socks, and turn on your fairy-lights. Wrap yourself up in a blanket under the soft golden glow of your tapestry and create for yourself the kind of environment that warms more than just your body.

Because sometimes, other people leave your life, and suddenly, it’s your own responsibility to help yourself rise from the darkest days. Alone and on your own. There is some fear around needing to do that. And there is also a lot of power.

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Lighthouses

It’s the last day of 2015. A dedication post is in order.

To particular friends, relatives, my family and a certain cat.

To those who come to mind when I think: joy, laughter, fun, grief, disappointment, support, tears, stories, gossip, love, affection, jokes, hugs, memories, smiles. These guys are all of that, all at once.

The best thing is, they’ll know I’m talking about them as they read on. Like, they better -.-

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