Day One.

So. I’ve mentioned that this year has not been the best for me. I’ve been slowly coming out of a several month long depressive episode and I’m rather overwhelmed by the amount of damage control that I now have in front of me. So I’m going to try and make it fun.

Consider this my own personal Find Your Happy Challenge. I’ll be documenting how it’s going, things I’m doing, etc. in a series of posts. I haven’t decided how often I’m going to hold myself accountable to write, but I want to put out at least a couple of posts a week. This isn’t a self-help series. I’m not going to be telling you how to get your shit back together if it recently all went to hell, I’m just going to be talking about things that I’m personally doing to get my personal shit together, and if something I share strikes a chord with you, then fantastic.

I’ve been drinking WAY too much. And I don’t mean partying, I mean drinking at home by myself. Over the past four weeks, I’ve spent about five days per week drinking. That’s way too much. For my own personal self-challenge, I’m not going to drink alone. Maybe for the rest of the summer, I’m not sure. Social drinks are fine, but no more getting drunk on my couch by myself. And yes, drinking with my dog is still drinking alone, I’m not using that loophole.

I’m going to push myself to go to the gym regularly, take care of my skin, and even cook more, so you guys may get some recipes/cooking epic fails out of this as well.

For today, I’m off to Schnucks to buy groceries for the week, and then I’ll probably clean the house a bit and head to the gym this evening. My body is the thing I’m most disappointed in. I worked my ass off in 2017 to drop about 40 pounds and I was in incredible shape at the end of last summer. While I’ve only gained a little, I’ve lost a lot of muscle mass and my body looks very different. I miss lifting heavy, and I’m going to get that back this summer for sure.

For now, I’ll end this with the song that I’ll have on repeat all day, Birthday by All Time Low.

Getting it back.

I haven’t been in the best place over the past few months. The decline was so slow that I didn’t even notice it until a couple of weeks ago when I almost couldn’t get out of bed to go to work. That was when I began to look around at what had been happening and realized that I needed to start actively trying to get out of it. These moods don’t just vanish and everything is okay. I always have to fight my way out of them.

It started so innocently. The things that I began to neglect were things that average, non-depressed people do regularly, but are really out of character for me. I stopped shaving my legs twice a week, which is a totally normal thing to do. Who shaves twice a week? I do. I stopped doing my at home pedicure routine. I stopped cleaning up after myself. My kitchen counter began to accumulate pantry items that should just be put away but instead I left out.

Then I stopped vacuuming. Stopped cleaning. Stopped brushing my dog. Stopped going to the gym. Stopped doing laundry.

I finally started to realize it when I was getting ready for work on a Monday and I had nothing to wear. Everything was dirty. I always do laundry on the weekends, and that hadn’t happened for a couple of weeks. Then while I was doing my makeup I noticed that my skin wasn’t looking too great, which was because I had stopped my nightly skin-care regimen. I was just wiping my makeup off with a wipe, and that’s nowhere near enough care for my skin.

I wasn’t taking my vitamins, I was making easy food for dinner that had no nutritional value whatsoever, and I was feeling like total crap.

I’m finally starting to get it back. I went to start deep cleaning my house this morning and (of course) I was basically out of all of my cleaning supplies. I vaguely remember trying to clean one weekend and using that as an excuse to not do it. I just made a massive Target run and I am now fully equipped to make this place spotless again.

Take care of yourself. It makes such a difference. I’m still not fully mentally okay but having a clean place and clean clothes, and eating good food helps. I’m hoping to get back in the gym tomorrow for the first time in over a month, and while I’m dreading how sore I’m going to be, I know it will be worth it in the long run.

I’m now going to spend the rest of my Sunday afternoon blasting Pray for the Wicked and cleaning this place from top to bottom.



Try again, fail better.

Being on the verge of tears for about a thousand different reasons while at work is a really interesting experience. I’ve been mildly depressed for pretty much the majority of the year due to the fact that I went from one crap-paying stressful job to a slightly better paying yet mind-numbing one. My days are completely routine and I spend most of my time alone in an office staring at a computer screen.
It hit me today that I have to go back to school, which is an idea I’ve been toying with for about a month now. The thought is enticing. The reality, not so much. As much as I wish studying for the GMAT would be some sixty second montage with an upbeat, get-down-to-business pop song playing in the background, that’s not actually the case. At all. Like, not even a little.
Then there’s the thing that has ruled all of my life decisions: fear.
What if I don’t get in?
Which was, of course, the first question my mother asked me when I first mentioned this idea to her.
What if my mediocre undergrad GPA,and nonexistent extracurricular activities other than what I did at Truman (the school I didn’t even graduate from) aren’t enough?
What if I’m not good enough?
Do admissions boards actually care that I’ve since found a passion and want to pursue it? Do they give a shit about my personality sob story that makes it really fucking hard to apply myself when I don’t see a point to the effort? Or will they just think I’m lazy?
The fear got to me a couple weeks ago and I actually abandoned this idea until today.
Today, I was bored out of my mind. It was one of those days at work where I finished everything I needed to do within my first hour of being there. Which just left 7 more hours to kill. I’ve felt like I’m slowly dying all day, and the thought came to me again:
I have to go back to school.
And then the fear creeps in. But today, instead of succumbing to the fear and abandoning the idea again, I remembered a conversation I had with a mentor when I was seventeen and applying to colleges.
He played into my fears, and ultimately convinced me that I wasn’t talented enough to bother auditioning for my dream school out of state. I believed him. He had this idea that failing is the worst thing that could possibly happen to you, and would continue to influence my decisions with that line of thinking throughout the next couple of years. I became terrified of failing.
Sometimes I wonder what that version of my life looks like, the one where I ignored him and auditioned for my dream school anyway. I think I would have been accepted. After that, I’m not sure. I know the 26 year old Becky in that version of reality is nothing like this one, though.
what if I don’t get in?
Then I figure something else out. I take some classes outside of a degree to boost my GPA. Try again. Maybe fail again.
At least then I’ll know. I won’t be cowering behind some hypothetical situation in my mind that’s not the ideal outcome.
So, yeah.
I’m going to go back to school.

Wanna-be cool girl.

It’s interesting to me how different the character version of myself is than my real-life persona.
Character-version? What the hell are you talking about, Becky?
The version of myself that I imagine when I’m daydreaming. The version of myself that is cool and calm and collected. I use this visual of myself to either play out potential situations that I might find myself in, or just to kill time at my insanely boring desk job.
I have somewhat severe social anxiety. I’m like a goddamn deer in the headlights in brand new situations that I didn’t have time to mentally prepare for, and if those situations occur in an atmosphere that I’m already uncomfortable in, watch out, I might totally freeze and have an epic fail.
I practice things I’m going to say. Sometimes it’s out-loud in the mirror at home while I’m getting ready, sometimes it’s in the car (I’ve had entire hypothetical interviews with myself in the car), and sometimes it’s just mentally walking myself through a situation. It helps. It sounds crazy, but it helps. Practice makes perfect, or at least as close to perfect as I’m ever going to get.
When I imagine myself in these scenarios, it’s this character of myself, and goddamn she’s so much cooler than I am. Because she doesn’t have social anxiety, her hair is never frizzy, and her makeup doesn’t start to break apart during the last hour of work (goddamn hot and humid office). She doesn’t stutter when caught off guard, her eyes don’t get all big and give away her poker face when something new is put on the table, and she waits to think something over without getting excited right away at a new opportunity.
She’s so damn cool. Cooler than I’ll ever actually be.
My high school band director was the first person who ever told me how read-able I was. He said I should never take up poker. I haven’t.
I’m a very emotional person with a very expressive face and it’s very hard for me to keep my feelings to myself. This is also why I write, it’s like a pressure valve for whatever I’m feeling, and honestly, the more I write, the less major meltdowns I have so it’s gotta be doing something.
As much as I know that my emotional capacity is a huge part of what makes me who I am, I gotta say, there are many days where I wish I were a little more of an Ice Queen. A little more calm and collected.
Instead of the girl who gets so excited over animals that she’s practically in tears.
Maybe it’s not so bad.
That character in my head is a nice daydream, because the truth is, me without high emotions or anxiety isn’t me.
…I could do without the stutter though.

Here’s some existential dread to go with your Monday morning.

          The longest relationship I’ve ever been in has been with my depression. Which pisses me off because I want to scream from the rooftops that it gets better and that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel for everybody else, but here I am, lying in bed at 6:30 am, staring at the ceiling, trying to psych myself up for another day of the mundane. The older I get, the more my depression feels like a chronic illness than a curable disease.

            Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suicidal. I’m not nearly as bad as I used to be. I think I might have finally learned to deal with it, and I can go for periods where it’s not an issue at all, but then one morning I’ll wake up and feel exhausted despite just sleeping for a solid 8 hours. My whole body feels heavy. When I notice that I feel detached from my body, then I realize what’s happening.

            Oh hey. I was wondering if you were going to show up again.

            It’s partially situational. When I start to lose a firm grip on my life, that lack of purpose triggers my depression to stick its head out and greet me.

            I’m experiencing a lot of existential dread lately. A lot of “What the fuck is the point?” type of thinking. Again, not suicidal, just nihilistic. Which isn’t me at all. I’m the glowing optimist that proclaims that everything happens for a reason and everyone has a purpose. But when I feel detached from myself, I lose that thinking. It feels more like I’m on autopilot and have no real control over my life. I fall down a rabbit hole filled with sleeping entire days that I don’t have to be at work and drinking a lot, because nothing matters and we’re all going to die someday anyway.

            The drinking tipped me off that I was really starting to slide back down again. I disregard my weekend drinking when I’m being social and having fun, but drinking during the week is usually a sign that I need to administer some ~self-care~.

            I still have yet to learn what self-care is for me. It sure as hell isn’t bubble baths and yoga retreats. Usually it’s going for a walk with my dog, blasting stupid happy music, trying to get myself to feel literally anything other than the void of darkness that is creeping into my mind.

            It’s exhausting to fight it back into submission. I’ve been doing this pretty much my entire life, and it is fucking exhausting. But the good days are finally more common than the bad, and what happens on those good days is 100% worth sticking around for.

            See, there’s that glowing optimist making an appearance again. I’m not totally dead inside.

            Not yet, at least.

A Quiet Place: feat. my inner dialogue while sitting next to the loudest girl in America.

I don’t go see movies in theaters very often. Occasionally something will come out that I just won’t want to wait until digital release for, so I’ll consult with others who I’m fairly sure have seen it and then decide if I actually want to go.

It’s not that I don’t like the experience of a movie theater. Big comfy chairs, surround sound, and a giant screen are all things that I thoroughly enjoy when watching a movie for the first time. It’s that I hate the other people in the room nine times out of ten.

For example, I went and saw Black Panther, it was magnificent. But the man in the seat next to me fell asleep and started snoring. He started snoring so loud that he woke himself up. Then he proceeded to constantly raise and lower his recliner chair, despite the fact that it squeaked loudly while moving.

It wasn’t the worst experience I’ve ever had, but it was annoying.

Last night, on the other hand, well…

I went to go see A Quiet Place, by myself. I love a good thriller movie and just felt like getting out of my house for a bit. I got there, found my seat, and reclined enough that my feet were up but I wasn’t horizontal. Then the waiting game of who I would be sitting next to began.

The woman who sat on my left, in the seat that was grouped with mine, showed up with no food or drink. Huzzah, I’m probably not going to hate you.

I normally dgaf if you have snacks during a movie but snacking during a movie that is mostly silence is a dick move.

We proceeded to ignore each other. Another point for this lady. She’s cool.

Then two girls came giggling down the aisle.

Oh god, please no.

They started walking down my row, and plopped down on my right, talking loudly as they unloaded what can only be described as $50 worth of movie theatre snacks from their purses.

Fucking hell.

I try to stay positive, surely they’ll know that they need to be quiet during a film that is literally titled A QUIET PLACE.

I don’t really notice them much during the previews, other than their comments about, “Why are they still making Mission Impossible movies?” which I can’t be mad about because I was thinking the same thing. Tom Cruise is broke and needs money, I guess?

But then the feature starts, and I become hyperaware of how much I loathe listening to people eat. Just when I think she’s done, she whips out another fucking package of sugar.

We’re maybe halfway through the movie when she finally finishes eating.


Just when I think I can go back to not wanting to punch anybody, she starts talking to her friend.

“OH my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. That thing is so SCARY”

I definitely gave her the human equivalent of this Unamused_Face_Emoji a few times, but she didn’t seem to get the message.

She was the type to be like, “Oh my god, there it is! It’s right there!! Be quiet! It’s RIGHT THERE! Don’t move! Don’t die!” every. time. the. creature. was. shown.


I really don’t understand why people can’t just be quiet? I’ve talked in theaters, but only when there’s like nobody else there. Which is actually really fun! I remember in high school I went and saw The Strangers and we were the only people there and we just made fun of it the whole time. Thats fine! Nobody was there for my friend and I to bother! I would NEVER do that in a full movie theater.

A full movie theater for a movie where the silence is part of what makes it so fucking good.


go see A Quiet Place. It’s really, really good. I jumped a couple of times and definitely cried a little (no shame!). I recommend eating before so you don’t feel the need to get snacks and don’t piss off the people you’re sitting near. I will send you good movie vibes that you don’t wind up sitting next to garbage people who ruin the experience.


TL;DR? Best summary of the movie:



Ghosts and Military Conspiracies: What more do you need?

Okay! So I am officially fed up with finding new ways to discuss and analyze my past, so we’re moving forward. One of my favorite blog posts to write was my Nintendo Switch review last March after I’d jumped down the rabbit hole head first on launch day.

I am a diehard Nintendo fan, and have never been able to bring myself to purchase another console, although I’m sure at some point it’ll happen just because I really love gaming.

I feel like at this point, Nintendo should give me a discount code because I’ve talked a decent amount of people into buying a Switch.

It’s been over a year since I preordered the Switch along with Breath of the Wild. I’ve logged over 175 hours on BotW, which I’m equally ashamed and proud of. That game is as good as everyone says it is.

Skyrim has also become a favorite of mine, although I do tend to get bored with it and ignore it for awhile. It’s still good.

Mario Kart is a blast, and I’ve recently started playing online with friends who live out of town.

Over the last couple of months I’ve started exploring the Nintendo eshop and finding some real gems in the $20 game price range.

Night in the Woods was the first one I tried out, and certain parts of dialogue had me in tears over how real the depression commentary was. Highly recommend.

This weekend I discovered Oxenfree.


I am a suspense/horror junkie. My first favorite author that I discovered on my own (as a younger sibling, I would usually read/play/watch whatever my sister did) was Stephen King, and he’s still a favorite of mine. I love suspenseful storylines. Oxenfree has everything I enjoy: ghosts, government conspiracy, demonic possession, and a few jump scares that actually got me.


You play as Alex, a teenage girl who accidentally opens a rift to another dimension with her friends and they all have to deal with some pissed off ghosties who would very much like to come back to life. I’ve always loved the communicating-with-ghosts-via-radio trope, so I was happy to see that in this game.


It’s creepy and suspenseful without being overly scary, in my opinion. So if you’re not really into super scary stuff, I think you would still enjoy playing it. You’re not fighting ghosts, it’s all conversation led storytelling, and it’s pretty damn good.

I will say, I was playing pretty late last night and had all the lights off, and my 100-year-old house decided to creak, as it usually does, and I about jumped off my couch. I enjoy that sort of thing though. I think things are actually scary or suspenseful when it translates into your real life as well. If you walk out of a horror movie and aren’t glancing over your shoulder every once in awhile, then it probably wasn’t that creepy.


There are also multiple ways the story can pan out, based on the conversation choices that you make. I went the righteous route on my first play through, but saw some choices along the way where I made a mental note of, “Oooh, I’m definitely doing that next time just to see what happens.”


The use of camera was really well done. It’s obviously third person, but occasionally while you were exploring it would slowly pan out to reveal something creepy at the edge of the map, or coming up in your path.  There are a few jump scares, enough that you learn to expect them, but not so many that you’re just like, “Oh for fuck’s sake, ENOUGH ALREADY!”


Also a light touch of commentary that anger can completely consume your existence, but done through the use of pissed off ghosts who are angry that they are no longer living, which I’m sure that most are.

I highly recommend turning subtitles on. I am not typically someone who uses subtitles, I just crank up the volume and tell the other people in the room to stfu, but it makes it easier to understand what’s being said. In the beginning the music was almost louder than the dialogue, so turning up the volume on my TV didn’t really help. Subtitles also guarantee that you actually understand when the distorted pissed off ghost voices are threatening your life. I got about halfway through the game, annoyed that I couldn’t understand some dialogue before I remembered that subtitles are typically an option and turned them on.

10/10. I like that you can play it multiple times and have different experiences based on the choices that you make. It was a fun way to kill some time this weekend.

What are you playing nowadays that you’re really digging?


Switch things I’m excited for:

Donkey Kong



That’s all for now. I’m sure I’ll be back soon with more gaming posts, because that’s like a solid 50% of my free time these days.