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Hipstercrite Life

When Almost Passing Out During Yoga is Exactly What You Need

Yesterday,  I wrote about how I felt like I was cracking up due to my nighttime anxieties. Trying never to give in and dwell on the negative, I decided I needed to do something about it.

So I picked the most cliché thing possible- I tried yoga for the first time!

Cliché or not, it was well worth it.

I’ve owned two yoga mats in my life and have never actually done yoga. Thanks to my friend Jordan, I finally got the push in the tush I needed to go.

We went to the donation-based Black Swan Yoga on 5th Street. The moment I walked in, I was struck at how peaceful and positive the atmosphere was. I’m not sure why this surprised me. It’s not like they play death metal and talk about cutting yourself at yoga. Everyone was so friendly and not in an over-the-top kind of way. Like a pull you in and hug you and make you feel all warm and gushy kind of way.

I sat down and was instantly struck by the fear that my feet might stink, but when I realized that yoga is not about being self-conscious, (more…)

Hipstercrite Life

The Crack-Up


The past couple of nights I haven’t felt my strongest.

As I mentioned before, my boyfriend, who I’ve spent nearly every day with since we first met, has left for Portugal for three months. Since I work freelance from the house, I find myself with more alone time than I did before I met Geoff. We don’t have a TV, so there isn’t the omnipresent media voice protecting me from my own thoughts.

Actually, that’s a lie. There is a TV. It’s upstairs in the bedroom, but I refuse to sleep there. I sleep on the couch downstairs because I feel safer there. Upstairs I have no control of what is going on downstairs.

This logic makes no sense.

But back to being alone with your thoughts. It’s a dangerous pastime when you have an overactive imagination. It can be paralyzing. You can absolutely convince yourself of something because all you’re doing hyper-focusing on that thought.

Every night, every damn fucking night, I’m convinced that someone is going to break in. I hear a noise (more…)

20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

How To Stop Worrying

I’ve written a few times on Hipstercrite about how going freelance has improved my career confidence and has been mentally rewarding.

I’ve jokingly talked about how going freelance has made it difficult for me to remember to change my underwear or socialize with humans and not feral cats.

What I haven’t mentioned is that going freelance has amplified my anxieties and worries and at some point I’m concerned I will become agoraphobic.

This all sounds like wonderfully neurotic writer behavior but it is neither fun or helpful. It takes a lot for me to leave the house to socialize and when I do, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to pay attention or engage in conversation. I’ve mentioned this before, so I will not rehash too much. This behavior, which began before I went the freelance route and had decided to take my writing more seriously, has caused me friendships. When I started to stay home at the attempt of being more productive, it angered a few friends. One in particular (more…)

Hipstercrite Life

The Stigma of Depression and Anxiety Medicine

I was working on a post about young entrepreneurs and how they make me feel like crawling under a rock and dying, but instead I’m going to write about anxiety.

My mother just called me to tell me that my grandmother is in the ER with high blood pressure. 235 over 98, I believe.

Obviously this got me worried, but the doctors said her blood work, oxygen levels and EKG results are all good. However, they’re going to keep her overnight.

My mother and I immediately assumed that stress is causing my grandmother’s high blood pressure, but the doctor said it wouldn’t make it rise that high. Regardless, I know that her stress and the ways she doesn’t deal with it is at least playing a minor factor in her high blood pressure. A few days ago she did not feel well and she told me it was because of stress.

Grandma has a lot to be stressed about, but don’t we all these days? In my grandmother’s situation she has a partner who has Alzheimer’s. It is something my grandmother has not come (more…)

20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

The Dizziness of Freedom

I recently discussed on my blog how I’ve developed crippling anxiety attacks at nighttime. Crippling is a strong word. More like curling up in a ball and whimpering myself into exhaustion. I’ve become absolutely convinced every night someone is trying to break into the house. Every single night. Like people have nothing better to do than hang outside my house and contemplate stealing the useless stuff I have to offer them every single day.

I know that these fears are irrational, though they are somewhat founded in recent violent goings-on in my neighborhood. Last week, two separate muggings occurred at popular east side bars, one where a young lady was brutally punched in the head. My boyfriend also lives in close proximity to the one intersection in all of Austin that houses every crackhead, prostitute, and pimp. Needless to say I envision a Thriller-like ragtag group parading in on the house as soon as the clock strikes 3AM.

On the surface my anxiety stems directly from these (more…)

20-Something, Hipstercrite Life, Writing

We Are Squirrels


Along the same lines of my recent post about Millennials and their work ethic, “The Generation of the Confused Working Class“, here is me going blah blah blah some more about the terrible “problems” my generation faces. 

I have the attention span of a squirrel on cocaine.
This is a recent development.
As a child, I was way too self-involved to be distracted by anything.
Being an only child will do that to you.
Sitting for several hours by yourself talking to Trolls will do that to you.

Now that I’m a big kid, I’m self-involved, society-involved, media-involved, and technology-involved.
Now my head is filled with a million notions of what has been and what could be.
Now I drink to make the voices stop.

On-set ADD sucks ass- and I don’t even have ADD. I’m one of those self-diagnosed folks. You know, the ones that figure it’s easier to give a name to something they won’t take responsibility for? Like totally flaking on your friend’s wedding shower because (more…)