Europe in Photos: Belgium

How dare I have the audacity to go to Europe and not share photos from my trip on my blog.

In short: it was f*ckng great.

The trip consisted of two days in Belgium, three days in France, and two days in Switzerland. I got sick, spoke french, and ate ungodly sums of french bread. The only thing I would have changed about my trip was its length. So now, straight from my iPhone, is a collection of photos of things, people, and food. Along with them, loads of excellent stories. 

Belgium

To be honest, I didn't think I'd like Belgium much. The group hit the ground running after a 7 hour flight from DC to Brussels. I'm pretty sure first thing I did there was have a Belgian wafel (heaven), Belgian frites, and get yelled at in french to push in a chair (lucky to have known what "Chaise" means.) I saw the peeing baby of Brussels (truly iconic) and visited my first European cathedral (St. Michael and St. Gudula) The cathedral had a really cool front area, but all the trees where painted white. Overall, rockin place though, it is slightly hard to appreciate fully due to extreme jet lag. 

Bruges was a different story. I had actually never watched the movie with Colin Ferall before going to Bruges, but let me quote Ralph Fiennes in saying that "It's a f*cking fairy tale." I had never been to a canal city before. Bruges was simply amazing, except for the fact that I was sick one of the days with dehydration and a killer fever. It eventually broke but it took a few days to feel myself again. The main square of Bruges is just awesome, we spent a lot of time there. I don't have too many ridiculous stories from Bruges besides my friends taking a loose brick from the streets for me when I was sick in the hotel room. We also took a canal tour where our guide was hilarious "That building is used for retired politicians. Retired, not retarded."Bruges was just this place that almost didn't feel real. There were horse rides and a ridiculous amount of history. Loved it.

What It's Like for Me

I thought I would take this opportunity while I have it because I am currently (like right now) rolling down a hill.

That's what it feels like to me. One minute I'm fine, then slowly I feel myself fall and tumble. I can tell right before I trip because I lose my temper, I become violent. I throw and break things. Then I lash out at myself. This usually involves crying while my hands scratch or pull at my body as a form of punishment. The truth is I blame myself far too often. My chest tightens while I gasp for air. This is when I start having a panic attack. My breaths are short and I try to calm my crying. My whole chest is heavy like someone is sitting on it. At this time, I avoid thinking about things. I distract myself with a book or my phone: anything that stops me from thinking. I wrap myself in blankets and avoid looking at my room. My room is a mess and the chaos amplifies the stress. I'd clean it, but I get overwhelmed and shut down.

I do that a lot, shutdown. It is my coping mechanism. When I can't handle the world around me, I shut it out and engulf myself into my own mind. If you find me zoning out or looking blankly into space, this is probably what I'm doing. I won't do school work because I can't physically get my homework out and even when I do, I can't concentrate on it.

It doesn't hurt all the time. I'm not always rolling down a hill. Frequently, I am a very happy person who is talkative, excited, and funny. But there is always this threat that I'm not quite at the top of the hill. In fact, I just pause until I fall again. 

I've always joked that I'm my own worst critic and my parents know that, but I don't think they fully understand to the extend. Really, my parents treat my depression like it's a phase. Like I feel bad for myself for a moment, but I'll get over it. I've spent my entire life trying to "get over it" but alas, here I am. It is really difficult opening up to them because whenever I have, it's usually brushed off as me "overreacting" or being "paranoid." The same thing happened when tried to explain my Dermatillomania. So now, I silently roll. 

So what pushed me down the hill today?

My college art portfolio is due in a few weeks. The school I'm applying to is super competitive and I honestly think I won't get it. But, I already sent in my application and there is no turning back. Like I said before, I am my own worst critic and I don't have a huge body of work to choose from, so I've been extra critical of myself. I've been trying to make art but I get frustrated because I can't do it. for various reasons. I'm not a very good painter and I really can't draw worth a shit. I've been forcing myself to do things because I have this idea of what the college wants and I know I'm not it, so I've been trying to mold myself into the idea. I honestly wanted to share this story with them and maybe they'd understand why my grades aren't what they should be or why my art isn't as good as it could be, but doing that makes me feel they would perceive me as weak and too unstable. I over analyze this to death, if you couldn't tell.

I stopped for a moment and looked at my blog as a whole. I've spent hours working on it's design, which is simple but, is something I did by myself and I am proud of. I checked out the My Photography tab and remembered why I wanted to apply to this school in the first place: because I am good at what I do. I am a photographer, not a painter or illustrator, but a person who captures time at the best moments. I compare myself to other people too often and I forget how quality of a person I am. 

I'm not 100% better, and I probably won't be for a long time but as long as I have the things that distract me (my photography, books, this blog), I think I'll be ok.

My mission from the start has always been to be truthful and share experience when possible. The contents of this post is part of who I am, and if one person can relate and feel comfort that they are not the only one, I have succeeded.

xo