There’s a cardinal that appears regularly in my mum’s garden that my mum is certain is my deceased father reincarnated. I think the idea is a bit far fetched, but I would never slander her belief since it brings her joy thinking my dad is there watching us.
Belief is a funny thing. I don’t believe in God. For years I identified myself as nothing but a skeptic and an atheist. If I couldn’t see it, smell it, touch it, taste it, hear it, or feel it, it didn’t exist. Not to say anything against anyone else’s belief systems, of course. You could believe that bunnies rule the planet and I wouldn’t care. My issue is when those belief systems infringe on people’s rights and are used as a tool to control the masses. (This could easily segue into how I despise religion as an institution, however that is for a whole other blog post.)
My journey into becoming more spiritual started with astrology. I’ve always identified with my sun sign, so much so that I got a tattoo of the Aries symbol when I was eighteen on my hipbone. Like any true Aries, the tattoo idea was very spontaneous and I didn’t really think it through before going to the tattoo parlour. (I am happy to report, however, despite my impulsivity I don’t regret the tattoo one bit!)
Despite my interest in astrology, it was never something I truly believed in. It was fun, but not something I lived my life by. Then, a few years ago I learned the full extent of astrology, discovering the entirety of my birth chart. It blew my mind how accurate it was. Nevertheless, I still struggled with completely accepting this as a belief system because of my strict secular values.
It wasn’t until last year when everything changed for me. Coincidences started piling up like lego. Things happened exactly when they needed to. I laughed it off the first couple of times, my critical brain taking over and trying to see reason. But then it started happening again, and again… and again. I was in a toxic relationship last year which I shouldn’t have been in. A few months into it, events and coincidences kept popping up disallowing us from seeing each other. It was if the universe was telling me ‘this isn’t right.’ Towards Christmas, I tempted fate by meeting up with him despite having a tonsil infection and looking like a chipmunk. I remember thinking, ‘the universe is probably telling me not to do this, but fuck it.’ That night I made out with him. (I still don’t know how that was possible considering I could barely open my mouth to fit a teaspoon.) We also said some words which stained our relationship further, leading to even more heartbreak on my end down the line. The universe was right.
Last year I also attained a keen interest in Tarot. The accuracy of some of the readings astonished me, even, sometimes, to the point of tears. Despite all of these coincidences and signs, there is a large part of me that is still ruled by my rational brain. I know that humans are a species that yearn for understanding. We invented Gods as an explanation for day and night before we learned about the sun and the moon. Believing there is someplace to go after you die lessons the fear of death. There’s a comfort in knowing something bigger than us is out there watching over us, whether that be a deity or just energy from the universe. I’ve since opened my eyes from being a hard atheist to someone who’s accepting of spirituality. No one knows what’s out there. Claiming that nothing is without certainty is proving arrogance.
A few weeks ago I was bored during my two-week quarantine after arriving back in Canada from the UK. Like I’ve done on many occasions, I ended up watching random youtube videos, which eventually led me to a YouTuber who had claimed to have made thousands of dollars from signing up to Only Fans, just by posting photos of herself in her underwear.
Let’s be clear about something first. After modelling for the better part of a decade, I have many photos of myself in my underwear. My initial thought was: “Wouldn’t it be funny if I created an Only Fans, and just posted my modelling photos, and people actually paid me for it?"
First of all, I should probably explain what Only Fans is. It’s a subscription-based website similar to Patreon, but it has gained the reputation of being a platform for sex workers to sell their exclusive content. Despite its reputation, people use it for a variety of purposes that aren’t sexual. I knew I was never going to use it for porn-related content, but I wanted to see if I could earn anything from it with the content I did have: photos of me in my underwear.
The first day I signed up I advertised it on Instagram and twitter. I made $30. What I soon realized was that my modelling photos weren’t going to cut it, simply because even though I had a lot of those, they weren’t going to last me to sustain a suitable income. Also, they were all old photos representing my past self. My subscribers wanted a present-day version of me. So, I started taking photos myself. This is when I really started enjoying it.
Having a reason to put on makeup and take photos and videos of myself in a variety of lingerie sets has been incredibly empowering. It’s also allowed me to get my creative juices flowing. Sometimes I’ll just dance in my underwear and receive encouraging comments from my subscribers, and if I’m lucky, a tip. There are many ways you can make money on Only Fans. The first is obviously the subscription, which is a personal choice when setting. I have mine at $13, but often put it on sale. This is when I find I gain most of my subscribers. Another way of making money is through pay-per-view. You send a photo or a video through your DM’s to your subscribers at a price, which is blurred out for them until they pay. Lastly, you can make money through referrals. Only Fans takes 20% of your income, but each content creator has a referral link. For example, if you used mine to set up your account, that 20% Only Fans would normally take would be split in half. They would take 10% and I would take 10%. (This is my referral link, let me know if you use it! onlyfans.com/?ref=41606592 )
The hard truth is that right now the market is oversaturated, especially now after Covid-19 hit. Many people who never thought they’d ever need to turn to sex work are now stripping for money. A lot of these sex workers are also putting their content up for free, or charging next to nothing. You need to be able to compete with that. Also, customers can’t afford to pay sex workers the same as before the pandemic, which makes it even more difficult to make an income from it, especially if you’re not using it for porn- like me. Essentially, I created it with not much of a following on my other social media accounts. Many people who subscribed have been people I’ve met in the past. Some of my subscribers found me through twitter or reddit. Most of the work involved in creating an Only Fans is self-promotion. If you don’t already have a massive following on social media, you are going to have to self promote like a boss. It’s the only way you’ll be able to make an income. There comes a point when you just have to say "Fuck It" and not give a damn about what people think.
So, how much money have I made?
It’s been two and a half weeks and I’ve made $180 USD. ($245 CDN.) Most of that was in the first week after I got a lot of my subscribers from my existing social media. The rest has been a gradual push from twitter and reddit. Also, I’ve kind of been on and off when it comes to promoting myself. It does feel weird promoting on my existing social media, which is why I’ve been doing it scarcely. The reality is though, that’s how I’ve made most of my money.
If you really want to create an Only Fans, I absolutely say ‘do it.’ You have to understand, though, that what you put on the internet is forever. You need to have hard limits to what you won’t do because subscribers will request things and they’ll offer a lot of money for them. At the end of the day, though, you can’t put a price on your morals.
My Only Fans: onlyfans.com/meganrxo
To the girls who didn’t have amazing dads. To the girls whose dads abused them, in any form. To the girls who’s relationship with their fathers are too complex for anyone else to truly understand.
I hear you. I understand.
I understand the confusion Father’s Day brings. I get how it’s difficult for you to articulate it with your friends who cannot relate because they were lucky to have fathers who treated them the way a daughter should be treated. I understand.
And to the daughters who’s abusive fathers are not on this earth anymore, I understand you, too. I understand the mourning of a father who you still loved even though he mistreated you. I understand the struggle of wanting to linger on the good memories, but having his words “bitch” and “whore” overtake them with force, like a knife popping a child’s birthday balloon.
I understand that no matter how awful he was, there will always be that part of you that misses him because he was still your father. He still raised you. And there will always be apart of you who wishes he could have been different. But he wasn’t. He was an abusive father, and he will always be.
I’m here for you. I get it. I am one, too.
I’ve been racist.
I grew up in a predominately white town. There was one black family in my neighbourhood. I was never taught about race growing up, but I knew that those kids didn’t look like me, and I didn’t know why.
When I was in middle school, my friend and I filmed a video project for school where she was playing Oprah. I put dark-coloured makeup on her to make her look more black. I didn’t know this was wrong.
During my first year of university, I dressed up as an Indigenous woman for Halloween. This is before I learned about intersectionality and cultural appropriation in one of my courses less than a year later. I remember feeling sick to my stomach when I found out. I almost deleted all the photos from my Facebook in embarrassment. However, I didn’t, because at the time, I didn’t know it was wrong.
We are, without a doubt, an incredible species. We’ve built huge machines that can fly from one end of the world to the other. We’ve discovered ancient burial grounds and fossils from animals living millions of years ago. Heck, we’ve even put a man on the moon. We are a smart species, a species whose learning capabilities are beyond that of any other animal on the planet. It should not be this hard to learn acceptance. It should not be this difficult to acknowledge that we have not always known right from wrong. That we are constantly developing and moulding into a better version of ourselves. I’m a white person, and I’ve been racist. I know this. I know I’ve benefited from the colour of my skin in all areas of my life. I know that I can never know what it’s like not to be white. I know that I am still learning, and will continue to do so throughout my lifetime. White people, we need to do better. We need to put our ego aside and stop saying “I’m not racist,” because the fact of the matter is racism is so ingrained in our society that we all have benefited from it, whether we’re aware of it or not. What matters is not what we’ve done in the past. What matters is what we do now to make a better world for the future. I’ve been racist, and I’m sorry. I will do better.
In January of 2018, I had this crazy idea pop into my head: I was going to move to London, England. I had always had a keen interest in living abroad, and thanks to my childhood obsession with Harry Potter and my love for travelling around Europe, London was an easy choice for me. (For more a more detailed explanation of my move to London, I have a London Blog where I’ve recorded my journey from the beginning in more detail.)
I have always loved travelling, and I had considered myself to be well-travelled even before my move. Perhaps my biggest adventure was my month-long stint volunteering in Ecuador when I was 19. It was my first time being alone in a completely different country. If I could handle that, I could surely handle moving to a new country entirely, right?
And I did handle it. However, the journey has let me through some bumpy roads and I’ve definitely fallen down and scratched myself a few times. Through these experiences, however, I’ve learned some pretty valuable life lessons. They are as follows:
1. It’s not where you are, it’s the people that you’re with
My fondest memories of all my travels have involved the company I was keeping. Whether that be travelling with a close friend, or meeting strangers at a hostel enjoying a spontaneous pub crawl. The people I surrounded myself with always made my experience special. Even working the most tedious job can be enjoyable if you’re with friends. On the flip side, I’ve travelled with people who I didn’t get along with and my memory of the location isn’t as joyous. People make the experience, not the place.
2. But you don’t need people around you to have fun
When I moved to the UK I didn’t really know anyone. I did have family in Wales but they were hours away. Basically, I was completely alone in one of the biggest cities in the world. So, I had to make my own fun. I’ve always been very independent and content with doing things on my own. I’ve taken myself on many theatre dates and have explored various cities by myself. You can learn a lot about yourself by doing things alone. (That being said, after lockdown is over I will happily avoid my own company for the foreseeable future.)
3. Open Mind
Being immersed in a different culture forces you to look at the world from new perspectives. Learning how other nationalities operate in their daily lives expands the critical eye and allows you the opportunity to question the culture you were brought up in. Travel is one of the most valuable tools for education.
4. Tangible stuff is frivolous
I used to be obsessed with clothes. (More importantly, shoes.) However, since moving abroad and travelling a lot more, I’ve had a need to reduce my wardrobe substantially. You can’t bring everything with you when you’re packing a suitcase all the time. I’ve learned to appreciate the value of experiences over ‘stuff,’ and my clothing addiction is officially no more.
5. There are nice people (and horrible people) everywhere
We like to stereotype people based on the countries they hail from. I can’t count the number of times a Brit has given me a look of relief when I inform them I’m Canadian and not American. I can tell you I have met many lovely Americans and many not-so-nice Canadians. The same can be said for Britons and every nationality I’ve come across.
6. You can get closer to someone the farther away you are from them
I think this is a lesson a lot of people are learning with the current pandemic. When I was living in Toronto, I maybe spoke to my mum once every few weeks. She was only an hour away and I saw her every couple of months. Since moving to the UK, I speak to her at a minimum once a week. It’s brought us closer. We now know more about what’s happening in each other’s lives than we did when I was living in Canada. When you see someone regularly you take them for granted. No longer having easy access to their company allows you to see how much they truly mean to you.
7. How fast time really goes by
It just seems like yesterday I was preparing to come to UK. Before I knew it, yesterday suddenly became two years ago. I’m soon going back to Canada to work and save money for my next visa which will allow me to apply for indefinite leave to remain. When I told my UK friends it could be a year until I come back, they were upset. I’m okay with it, though, because I know how fast a year goes by. In the grand scheme of things, a year compared to the rest of my life is almost nothing. However, during that year I will make the most of spending it with my family and friends back home. Time is the most precious thing we have. We really do need to take advantage of each moment.
I like knowing things. Uncertainty just drives me insane. I can’t stand mixed signals or unanswered questions. I thrive on transparency. It’s because of this which is why I find myself struggling during this pandemic. Sure, being locked down in my tiny flat in London is a pain in the butt, but that’s not what’s driving my anxiety. I have a flight booked back to Canada in July which is, so far, still on track to take off. Not knowing if that is going to be cancelled is worrying me. I’m trying to stay off the media because one news broadcast contradicts another. Other countries have unleashed exit strategies and yet the UK government is keeping us all in the dark like we’re children not deserving of information. My brain keeps looping over potential scenarios: Will I be cooped up in my flat until I leave, not being able to see my friends again? What if my flight gets cancelled? I’m supposed to take off two days before my visa ends. Also, if I am able to get a flight, what if I contract COVID-19 on the plane and accidentally give it to my family members? (This was one of the main reasons I didn’t leave when this whole thing blew up in March.)
Then, to top it off, after I worry about all of the above, I think about how selfish I am to worry at all, because plenty of people have it considerably worse than I do. I could be in an abusive relationship and self-isolating with my abuser. I could have lost my job and be struggling to get by. I could be cooped up in my tiny flat with three restless kids like my neighbours. I could be a health care worker on the frontlines seeing people die of this disease every day. Here I am, worrying about an unknown result when these people are struggling with reality.
Both of these thought processes are toxic and unhealthy. Worrying about the unknown is wasting energy, and so is comparing your trauma to others’. Everyone is suffering in their own way, and they shouldn’t be shamed for that. Celebrities have been called out for crying in their mansions, and at first, I participated in the degradation. I sneered at Sam Smith for allowing the world to see their pain. I realise, now, that was wrong. Their suffering is still suffering. The world is already full of enough despair and hate. We shouldn’t be feeding the flames.
Everyone is so focussed on protecting their physical health, but we can’t forget about our mental health. It's equally as important. For me, I do that by working out, writing, singing, and talking to my family and friends via social media. Those are the things I love most in this world. But when those don’t work, sometimes I just need to cry. And that’s okay. Do whatever you need to do to protect your mental health. You need it now more than ever.
I still remember when I was a child and my class was learning about fire drills. We were taught that during a fire drill, we were to queue up in an orderly fashion by the door before leaving the building. We were taught this because if we were to all panic and run to the door at the same time, there would be crowding and it would be difficult to exit. Ultimately, instead of just thinking about our own survival, we had to take into consideration the survival of our entire class. By thinking of others, we, in turn, made sure each and every one of us survived a potential fire.
As we’ve noticed in recent weeks, the real world isn’t as thoughtful as a child’s classroom. The moment people are faced with their own mortality they can become very selfish and inconsiderate. The shelves are empty at supermarkets across the globe by people who don’t actually need to stockpile because they’ve been consumed in fear. Fear can make us greedy, and also stupid. I went out to the supermarket three nights in a row because I couldn’t find everything I needed. I exposed myself three nights in a row because other people decided they needed to stock their pantries to have enough food until Christmas. I don’t have any symptoms and I do appear to be healthy, however, I could unknowingly be an asymptomatic carrier. I could unknowingly pass on the virus to that stockpiler’s mum or aunt. Furthermore, those stockpilers left the shelves empty for hospital staff and other essential workers who are responsible for caring for those infected; which again could be a loved one of the stockpiler, or even the stockpiler themselves.
Then, there are people who are still going to parks, beaches, and markets in big groups. They have the mentality of “it won’t affect me. I’m young/healthy/immortal. Yes, you could get it and be fine; but you have to know someone who could potentially die from the virus. I’m in the UK right now. I’m an ocean away from my at-risk loved ones, so thankfully there is no chance I could infect them. However, I’m completely aware I could infect someone else’s loved one, and I don’t want to do that. The faster we socially isolate the faster they can contain the virus and the faster we can get out of this mess with minimal life lost. People who aren’t social distancing are just prolonging this hell and forcing governments to take stricter measures. Thousands of people are dying, and yet still many are only looking out for themselves. We're a selfish species, and because of that we're all going to suffer.
Although, we were not always greedy. Thousands of years ago when humans lived in hunter-gatherer societies and smaller bands, they shared everything. There was no self-entitlement and they all worked for and with each other. There was no war and no bloodshed. People were happier then because they knew that serving others explicitly served themselves as well.
You know that moment when you look an attractive person for the first time and your brain takes a couple of seconds to acknowledge just HOW beautiful they are? You’re standing there, mouth agape and eyes wide open looking like a complete fool. Cartoons overdramatize it by having eyes shooting out of their heads and hearts ripping from their chest with a distinct “BOIINNG” sound. It’s a classic movie moment... A moment that has been classified by romance novels, television shows, and every other media source as ‘Love At First Sight’. ‘Love At First Sight’ is a concept that is widely popular amongst romantics, however, one that is actually completely and utterly bullshit for one simple reason: Infatuation is not Love.
So, what is the difference between Love and Infatuation? The quick answer is Infatuation is selfish and Love is selfless.
Infatuation is falling in love with an idea of who someone is. You see your crush from across the room, ogling at their beauty. You’re too shy to really even talk to them properly so you make up fantasies in your head of what they could be like if you were with them. You spend hours stalking their social media and daydreaming of what your life together would be like. You hate any potential competition because they should be with you, and not anyone else. Infatuation is largely driven by physical appearance and lust. It’s possessive, unhealthy, and toxic.
Love, on the other hand, runs much deeper. Love is complete acceptance. Their looks don’t matter as much because you see the whole person, with all their scars, and love them anyway. Love is built on trust. Love is wanting them to be happy, even if that means not with you. Love is sacrificing your pleasure for theirs. Love is feeling their pain as equally as your own. In order to love someone, you need to know them. You can’t love someone you don’t know, which is why ‘Love At First Sight’ is bullshit.
That feeling you have when you meet someone and there’s instant attraction is a chemical reaction. It’s your brain telling you: “That person is extremely fuckable and I'd like them to help me continue my gene pool by having loads of babies with them." (Purely from an evolutionary standpoint, that is). That isn't very romantic, is it? Unfortunately, that feeling can be, and is often, one-sided. There have been plenty of times I’ve looked at a guy absolutely gobsmacked at his gorgeousness, only to learn that he’s gay or just completely uninterested in me.
Ultimately, because infatuation is the product of lust, you can be infatuated at first sight. However, as love is built on companionship, trust, and acceptance, it is absolutely impossible to declare any truthfulness in the concept of “Love At First Sight.”
Still from "Pipedream" by Falling Under
I remember being a little girl (maybe 11 or 12) and drawing my perfect wedding on a piece of paper. I had it all planned out: I was going to get married on a beach somewhere in California. My dress was going to a beautiful silk gown, and my bouquet was going to be filled with lilies, after my grandmother (Lilian). I knew each and every detail apart from the man that would stand with me at the altar. I knew that someday I was going to be on that beach wearing that silk dress.
Fast forward a few years and I don’t want to be on that beach at all.
Marriage is hardwired into our culture. When we’re kids, we’re told how life works: We go to school, get jobs, and marry so that we can have kids who will repeat the process. What they don’t tell you when we’re kids is that we might end up with a few divorces along the way with children from multiple marriages. I don’t need to tell you that in today’s world divorce is becoming more common than the cold. I come from a family of divorced parents, and so do many people I know. Why has divorce become so regular? There are multiple theories; one of them being that social media and the internet has allowed people access to increased distractions. Another one blames our lack of effort to commit to long term relationships: “People aren’t putting in the work,” I’ve heard. As much as I think there are truthful elements to both of those theories, I think that as a species, we’ve always struggled with monogamy. There were fewer divorces 100 years ago because, at that time, divorce was still taboo. Unhappy marriages still existed then as they do today, however today it is a lot easier to get out of them because divorce is more widely accepted.
If we really wanted to get into the history of marriage, though, we would have to discuss that the union wasn’t always for love. Marriage was initially a business transaction where women were treated as objects. It was all about money/status. If you’re forced to marry someone you don’t find sexually attractive you’re going to want to get your needs met elsewhere. Infidelity was so common back in this time that it was almost expected. Marriage then eventually transitioned to become a union specifically for the purpose of love. If people ended up marrying those they actually wanted to marry, you’d think cheating wouldn’t be a problem anymore, right? We all know this not be the case. I’m currently reading a book called Sex at Dawn by Cacilda Jethá and Christopher Ryan which I highly recommend. The book studies the question: “Are humans naturally monogamous?” Questions Jethá and Ryan ask are: ‘if monogamy is so natural, why do people still cheat in cultures where the punishment is stoning to death?’ And, ‘If it’s so natural, why do people risk their careers, status, family, and even Presidential standings by cheating?’ Based on anthropological, biological, and historical findings, the book suggests that no, humans are not naturally monogamous. This challenges the institution of marriage entirely.
But, what about love?
Personally, I think it’s more romantic to want to be with a partner without the expectation of marriage. Once that ring is on your finger there’s an invisible ball and chain which wraps around your foot. At first, people welcome it as they’re happily in love with their partner. As years go by though, that ball and chain can potentially start becoming a nuisance. I’m not saying this is the case for all couples, but why would you want to even chance it? I asked a man recently who had been married to his spouse for 50 years: “Would you still love her and be with her if you weren’t married?” He said: “Yes.”
My question to you is: Do you really need to prove your love by getting the government involved? If you were truly happy in your relationship, I don’t think you would. The problem is, it’s so ingrained in our culture most of us only see it from one perspective. We don’t think of the alternative. We just assume marriage is the next, and final step. We’re so wrapped up in planning the perfect wedding and saying “yes” to the dress, that we don’t fully realize the importance of “I Do.” A ring on your finger shouldn’t change anything about your relationship. The only thing it does change, minus the minor tax breaks, is if you want to get out of it. Divorce is much more complicated than a simple break up… and a lot more expensive, too.
That girl who was planning her wedding all those years ago was influenced by a culture obsessed with weddings and romance. She just wanted to be a bride. She didn’t understand the full implications of what that meant.
The most terrified I’ve ever been was when I got lost in the Ecuadorian Amazon rainforest… twice. I was 19 volunteering with a kids camp for a month, and I was staying in a reserve deep in the rainforest. The first time I got lost was when I was initially trying to get to the reserve after first arriving in Ecuador. I was on a bus when suddenly the vehicle pulled over. The bus driver dropped me off in the middle of the road in the depths of the forest. I didn’t speak much Spanish so I couldn’t ask him why he was leaving me there, all I knew was that I was alone in a foreign country in the middle of the rainforest, not being able to speak the language. I was surrounded by nothing but trees. Fear pulsated through my veins. I was sure this is how I was going to die. Then, I saw a small hut up the road with kids playing. There was a girl about my age. I desperately walked up to her and tried explaining my crisis using my Spanish to English dictionary. This was before international sim cards. There was no google translate, and my cell phone was useless. The girl got the gist of my issue and called a taxi for me. Through the broken translation of the dictionary, I understood what she said: “Us girls have to stick together.” I will always remember her. (I learned later that the reason the bus driver dropped me off where he did, was because there was a connecting bus that would have taken me right to the reserve.)
The second time I got lost in the amazon rainforest was at night. I was coming back from viewing the gorgeous sunset from a tower overlooking the forest. The Germans I was with kept talking to each other in German and completely ignored my existence. I figured my time would be better spent back at the reserve instead of with them, and I thought I could make it back before the sun completely went down. It was about a 15-minute walk. I had no flashlight, so I had to be fast. I found myself running to beat the emergence of night. I ended up accidentally taking the wrong path, and the next thing I knew I was alone in the dark, lost in the rainforest…again. I started screaming through tears and stepped into a pond, soaking my shoes and pants. I assumed this was definitely how I would die. A creature would emerge out of the darkness and eat me, for sure. Eventually, I heard the voices of the Germans who found me in my sodden state. They scolded me for leaving without them and I realized it was a stupid mistake on my part. I vowed I’d never find myself in a position where I’d be that terrified again. I remember being completely consumed in fear. It took over my entire body. I had no control over it. Fear is one of the most powerful emotions we can have. If we let it, it can dictate our choices, ultimately making us slaves to our own nightmares.
Fear crops up in less extreme examples every day. Fear of rejection and fear of the unknown are the two main fears that control our lives. Fear of rejection keeps people from admitting their true selves. It keeps us ashamed of who we really are. Fear of rejection is the transgender woman who’s scared her family will abandon her, so she continues living as a man. Fear of rejection is the man who’s been in love with his best friend for 20 years but is scared to tell her for fear she’ll deny him. Fear of rejection is the dancer not auditioning for the top drama school for fear that she won’t be good enough. Ultimately, fear of rejection is deeply rooted in our self-esteem. We tell ourselves we’re not good enough so much so that we start to believe it, leaving the door open for fear to be all-consuming. We’re not scared of the other person rejecting us, we’re scared they will confirm our suspicions about ourselves. I asked out my first guy when I was 24. I was terrified. At this point, I had already gotten lost in the amazon rainforest 5 years prior, so you’d think if I could handle that, I could handle asking out a boy to drinks. Nope. I realized after doing it that I was more scared of him saying “no” because he saw the flaws that I saw in myself. The trick to kicking fear of rejection in the face is practising self-love. Once you do, you realize that rejection isn’t necessarily negative. That person who said “no” to you isn’t worth your time because you deserve someone who doesn’t hesitate with their “yes!”
Fear of the unknown, on the other hand, is the unhappy couple staying together because they’ve been together 10 years and don’t know what life would be like apart. Fear of the unknown is choosing to stay at your job where you hate your boss because you’re scared you won’t find another position with similar pay. We’d rather stay in uncomfortable familiarity than take a risk in the unknown, which is why so many people are dissatisfied with their lives. We’re slugging away in jobs we hate and we’re staying in toxic relationships because we’re too scared of uncertainty. Yes, breaking free of our toxic situation can be terrifying at first, but with time we heal. With time we grow stronger. With time, we find a new familiarity.
Fear of the unknown can also be dangerous. It can breed ignorance, hate, and bigotry. We fear what we don’t understand. This has caused wars and genocide throughout history and is one of humankind’s many illnesses. I hope that as a population we can grow to accept people’s differences and stop living in fear.
Looking over the Amazon rainforest before getting lost in the dark.