fabiochiu/medium-articles huggingface dataset:
Young people are becoming more anxious about the idea of moving out of the country.
By: Jul Ieta
Tags: Personal Experience, Growing Up, Decisions, Family, Travel

Young people are becoming more anxious about the idea of moving out of the country. Many of my friends are preparing themselves to travel around the world wishing to find a new place in a new country that they can call it “home”.

This is a sensitive matter in my household. Both of my parents are afraid of letting me and my brother go. He is older than me, meaning he will be the first trying his luck in another country.

May I apologize for my gramatical mistakes, I am an argentinian and spanish is my birth language. This country always had had its own problems. Even if I am young I can assure you we had never had some political or economical peace. Right now, I do not know if it is really getting bad or it is just that I am growing and I am capable of understanding what is going on.

I am getting to that age when we all have to choose our future. I strongly believe it is way too early for us to decide, but the system never changed and I do not think it will in less than a year. All my friends are choosing to move out. They do not trust our country and neither do I. It is hard to leave your family, your friends, your home, your land; but sometimes it is the only way to assure yourself a future. I do not mean to say this will happen. The future is unsure, and nothing is guaranteed, so I can not say that. But young people are trying to avoid being stuck in a country that can not offer anything to you. It did not happen yet but, what if?

I love my country, I may not love every argentinian, but we have a flag in common. I do not want to leave, but I want to live a successful life and reach all my goals and I do not know if that would be possible in this place. Therefore, I find myself in a constant fight inside my head.

I want everything but you can not have it all.

Growing up is scary, having to make big decisions are scary too. I am scared, but I am not the only one.

What happens with our family?

Like I previous said, it is a sensitive matter in my family. My father gets mad everytime we mention the idea of taking a plane and fly away. I understand that man, the feeling of loneliness is what I think constantly stalks him. He does not want their children, who he loves the most, to be a thousand of kilometers away from him, it is hard and I get it. Same thing goes with my mother. But we want to be free, we want support from our parents, we need it in this times.

Life can not be easy, I believe that is why it is painfully beautiful. We do not know what will happen to us, but friends, choose the path that fits best with you, your heart and mind.
1
Tags: Adulting, Growing Up

Hello everyone or whoever is reading this id first like to start off by sharing what the purpose of these entries are. I am a 17-year-old high school senior I live in Florida and I struggle with mental health issues. I feel like a lot of people my age especially right now need to know that they aren’t alone and that you’re not crazy. So basically this is just gonna be me talking about things that I’m struggling with or what happened to me or what’s happening to me basically just a dumping pot for all of the stuff thats happening while I figure out adulting . Soooo if that something that you’re interested in I encourage you to keep reading
The start of something
Tags: Growing Up, Health, Finding Yourself, Life, Young Adulthood

I’m overwhelmed. Always. It could be an invitation to a birthday from a friend or just a spontaneous trip with my family, but as soon as I hear about it my heart rate goes up. It’s like I have been drinking coffee all day long.

In my childhood I was the annoying little girl that always had to be the center of attraction. Did not matter if a discussion concerned me or not, I had the last word. Now that I am officially an adult, I would be way too anxious to interrupt a conversation, or even start talking with a stranger.

Then, two years ago everything started. I felt the urge to vomit. Always and everywhere. Just so that you understand me the right way. I do not really vomit but I feel like I have to. Sitting in a classroom, during a family-dinner or while trying to sleep. And it never stops. As for me, a naturally anxious person who has not the most powerful confidence vomiting in front of others is something I never wanted to experience. I had some minor panic attacks. Sometimes the urge is weaker and then it will become stronger again. But it never leaves.

No doctor has found a solution yet, where the nausea is coming from. Believe me, I visited many. Because of my panic attacks I am going to a psychologist now. But till now they have not gotten any better but we will see.

In one and a half year I will be finished with school and must have decided what I wanna do with my life. Do I really wanna be a doctor? Or a landscaper? Or an architect? I have the feeling that I’m running out of time and will never know who I truly am and what my purpose is.

I am still really young so you probably say that these feelings are normal and somewhat dramatized. And that is okay because maybe in a few years I will have the same opinion. But right now? No, I am not going to let anxiety rule this period of my life. I want to fight back.
He Knows to Keep Quiet
By: Louise Foerster
Tags: Poetry, Growing Up, Child, Reading, Self

He Knows to Keep Quiet

Photo by Klim Sergeev on Unsplash

His favorite time is early, so dark and so quiet that no one is awake but him

And he can be himself as wondering and curious and strange as he wants

Without rules, without clock and expectation and “you’re doing it wrong.”

Even the dogs are still asleep, warm dog snores huffing in the hallway

Where they think they’re keeping him safe from monsters and marauders.

They’re not, but it’s kinder to let them think that, put their dog energy there

Rather than interrupt him when he’s reading, building fierce Lego battles

Where the good guys always win — and they’re not always who you think.

Because the bad guys are like him — as changeable and evolving as he is.

Call him the little brother, decide he’s to be babied and talked down to,

Do whatever you think you should, but you cannot touch his real self

That is hunkered under the covers, reading and imagining himself hero,

Grand and glorious and more powerful than anyone has ever been.
The Cat
By: Arielle Arnold
Tags: Adventure, Bobcat, Growing Up, Treehouse, Childhood Memories

When I was growing up on an Air Force base, something kind of cool about it was that there was a creek that led to a large wooded area away from all of the buildings. The creek was right next to the Youth Center, where I went every day, and the woods were behind it.

I loved playing in the creek and the woods, especially climbing a tree I called “The Treehouse.” I called it this because it was really two trees which grew intertwined with each other, forming a massive tree with a perfect opening that led to the trunk, with branches that led like a spiral staircase to the very top. It was my special place, and sometimes I would bring a friend to show it to them.

One day, my mom’s friend left her daughter to hang out with me while she and my mom went away for the weekend. I decided to show her The Treehouse, and we walked out to the woods from my house, and on the way I showed her around the woods I knew so well.

We had gone pretty deep into the woods and came upon a clearing where there was a large cat with its kitten. As I looked at the cat, I saw its tufted ears and realized it wasn’t just a cat. It was a bobcat.

My friend only noticed the kitten and started to reach out, and as the mother braced itself I snapped, “Don’t you dare. We need to walk backwards, very slowly.” The bobcat stayed tense, as though she were ready to run after us at any moment, and we walked backward until she was very small and then turned to run home.

We never made it to The Treehouse.
Aging Effects
By: Zaidisyeda Mediatechnology
Tags: Grownup, Growth, Agingwell, Growing Up, Agingeffect

Age as well as somatotype and sex, deeply influences body form size and ability. A growth spurt sets in with puberty. Girls stop growing at about 16, boys at 18 or later. Full stature and full muscular strength…. more
Old
By: Alex Chadwick
Tags: Growing Up, Poetry, Coming Of Age, Old, Poem

I was the taste of a fallen tooth,

The smell of sweet birthday cake.

I looked like heaven and saw nothing.

I soon tasted like red, salty fingernails,

Reeked of sour guilt,

Felt like hell and opened my eyes.
how my youtube is going UP
By: Charbel Imad
Tags: YouTube, Growing Up, Subscribe, Tips, Grow

Well as a new you tuber i start with following all kind of cheating in order to grow my youtube channel.. but with this act all what i gain is small bunch of scams and fake accounts following my youtube channel .

1- so my advice is only to focus on you videos content and TITLE AND THUMBNAIL.

2- BE PASSION

3- Share as much as you can on all you social media .. because if 1 of your followers shared you content and he is popular :D then you will win the VIRAL mode ON .

4- dont try to Copy past other youtube channel description .. MADE YOUR OWN

5- Check below My channel :D Support and try to stick with my tips and you will be satisfied.

Thank you and keep it Up :D
21-Year-Old Growing Pains
Tags: Funny, Growing Up, Diary, 21, Maturing

People say that every seven years, you’re a completely new person. Your body is full of new cells, therefore making you entirely different than what you were before. They say that this isn’t just a physical milestone, but a mental and emotional one as well. 21-year-old you is a lot different then 28-year-old you, and so on.

I can honestly say I always thought this was dumb. So what, my body changes. My hair grows, and I cut it, and more grows. My nails grow, and I cut them, and more grows. It’s just the same thing but with cells. Duh.

Buuuuut I just turned 21, and I’m starting to wonder if I was wrong. Maybe it’s the current political climate, the fact that I’ve started seeing a therapist, or (very likely) the fact that I will be graduating with a BA in Acting amidst a global pandemic. Either way, I feel myself becoming someone new, and I can only hope it’s for the better. Let’s talk about it.

Mental growing pains is a thing. I’ve never heard anyone say it, but I’m saying it now. It’s like when your shins hurt because you’re getting taller, except it’s more of an inner-turmoil kind of thing. In my senior year of college, I’m learning more about what it means to be an adult, and slowly, my perspective is shifting. My attitude towards certain topics, and my ability to sigh deeply and just get something done instead of complaining about it for at least twenty minutes first. It’s uncomfortable because it’s different. I’m trying to learn that that isn’t such a bad thing. I think that’s a sign of me becoming an adult, too.

Here’s the thing. I hate change. Part of me mourns my old self, if for nothing else but the fact that she was a bit more innocent. Don’t get me wrong, I went through it during my teenage years (who hasn’t?), but those traumatic, drama-induced anxieties were my whole world. Now, I see that the world is a lot bigger than that. Than me. And maybe it’s my anxiety meds talking, but I think that I can handle it. That’s something that, even just a year ago, I couldn’t confidently say.

This is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to everything I’ve learned lately, and everything that’s going through my head 24/7 at 120 mph. But I have a hunch that writing it down will help me sort through my thoughts enough that I can gain a firmer grasp on my new sense of self. So I’m gonna try it. Join me if you want, or don’t. Doing things just for my personal growth is part of being an adult, I think.

Love,

LoRey :)
Some thoughts of a 20 year old
By: Eleanor Rigby
Tags: Lifestyle, Thoughts, Growing Up

i just moved into the city with my friends. I might have done so because i was lonely and bored. It wasn't necessarily tactical but i justify that it will help my character development. I feel a-lot of pressure to be someone of good character. Though most of the time it feels like i don’t pull through and meet my expectations. Sometimes i think i’m a good person and i am doing OK. Then i smoke some weed and recognise all my downfalls that i missed. and so i feel bad about myself, but then forget what was wrong the next day. Ive been single for about 3 years. This has worried me a-lot, though now i am a-lot more content with single life. Probably because i live with friends now and also i talk to people on tinder so i get the reassurance i need there sometimes. I don’t worry about death so much, i try to avoid thinking about it. But the times when i do manage to briefly understand the gravity of everything ending i feel out of my depth. I used to think i was great and better than everyone else, in a low self-esteem sort of way. I don’t think that so much anymore. its quite possible i am of average intelligence and i am a normal person. I think i will be ok with that soon. i find it hard to keep my room clean. It bothers me that my roommates might be uncomfortable with me living like this. They are clean. I am worried they wont like me much soon. Living with people changes things. I think i’m going to do something unforgivable. I don’t want to but i think part of me does because it feels inevitable. and if i do it maybe i’ll stop worrying about it, maybe things can be as they are, ruined and i will be released from limbo and apprehension. I might believe i am unloveable. I’m not quite sure. I don’t think about it so much. I can be quite ignorant to my feelings. It takes work to really think. Sometimes i think i know things and i have myself figured out. But upon getting closer with myself through experience, it becomes evident i only have a subconscious understanding really. And that makes it harder to change. But also maybe i’m just watching myself for now, gathering data. I’m only 20, i tell myself. I have so much time to grow. But maybe the growth is painful because it involves a constant state of not being what you could be. I don’t know if i could bear that for my whole life. Knowing i could do better than i am doing. Or maybe it will be a comfort. because then i’ll never know i can’t.
When I grow up
By: Ellen Callister
Tags: Lifestyle, Growing Up, Poetry, Dreams, Poem

When I grow up

When I grow up, what will I be?

Maybe a farmer, on fields feeling free.

Out in the daylight, from morning till night,

Own acres of land, it'll be all that's in sight.

When I grow up, what will I be?

Maybe an artist, painting the sea.

Out on the beach, taking it in,

A canvas in front of me, wondering where to begin.

When I grow up, what will I be?

I could be a dancer, is that something I see?

Jumping and spinning, having a blast.

But when I age more, would that dream last?

When I grow up. what will I be?

Maybe an actress; would that make me happy?

Learning lines for a film or maybe a play,

I'll have a think about that one, another day.

When I grow up. what will I be?

Do I have to be something, or can I just be me?

It’s not solely about the job that you do,

It's how you act, think and feel that makes the best you.

Now I'm grown up. What do I do?

I make every day count, which you can do too.

I choose to be honest, I choose to be kind,

I think before speaking with other’s feelings in mind.

When you grow up, what will you be?

I’ll save you some time, here’s some advice from me.

You can be what you like, but never forget,

Your family, your friends; they're the best things you'll get.
Who Am I?
By: Jaden Phillips
Tags: Short Read, Growing Up, Hi, Meet Me, Life

Hi. I'm Jaden.

This is me, for anyone wondering.

I’m a High School student that doesn’t live a very interesting life. My parents are divorced, my mom is gay. I have three moms and one dad…. and not in the Mormon way. I like to write. Well, I kind of like to write. I like to tell stories and share about my life.

I kind of feel like I’m talking to no one and everyone at the same time but I guess that the best place to start. So, if your at all interested, here’s my story.

I was born in Salt Lake City, Utah. I don't remember much because we moved away when I was seven. None the less, I was the second of six. Four of those six being step brothers that didn't come into my life until I was fourteen but, I’m getting a little a head of myself.

Where was I. Oh right, Salt Lake City. I was a beautiful baby girl… with a liver disease. I had Jaundice. It’s very treatable and honestly sounds a lot more scary than it actually is. I was a little yellow and had to sit in a UV bed. I don’t know exactly how it works but my nickname was “Glow Worm” for that short lived time of my life.

My brother didn’t have any issues to speak of but we both came out with peanut allergies and asthma. His more sever than mine. I don’t remember much from Utah but we had a house we designed ourselves and my dad traveled a lot.

Where I really start to remember things is when we made the big move from Salt Lake City to a little town in Colorado called Glenwood Springs. During that move one of the cars broke down and our cat went crazy and it felt like it would never end. We ended up living in that town for seven more years of my life.

I went to Elementary and middle school there. Had my first kiss. My fist dance. Lots of firsts. I loved Glenwood Springs. After my mom came out and moved out. My dad met my step mom and we moved to Grand Junction. About and hour and a half outside of Glenwood springs. By then my brother had graduated high school and was off at collage.

The year before my brother graduated It was my freshmen year of high school. Although I loved Glenwood Springs, Grand Junction gave me some opportunities that made that move way easier. I met some amazing people that are now close friends and the people I moved away from still stayed in touch went it mattered.

I was there, where I grew the most as a person. I developed my own morals and found my passion. I made a political stance and came out. I started to grow as a person.

Now, I’m here halfway though my sophomore year of high school. Still growing and learning. Finding what I believe and my path to follow. Cheesy I know. We all have had some rough patches, I’ve had my fair share and that why I like the idea of writing it all out. Having and outlet where I can share my findings. While people can disagree. It’s those arguments that help us learn and grow.

So. Hi, I’m Jaden. Feel free to stay and grow a while.
where did our little girl go?
By: Lizzie Mobilio
Tags: Parents, Broken, Growing Up

“where did our little girl go?”

a sentence that breaks me no matter how broken i have already been. because i have been searching for her too.

but it seems, with every person that hurts you, goes a piece of your heart that they have broken. you are robbed of the little girl everyone is waiting on to reappear, because she holds all of the hope, trust, and love of the past. something this cruel world has stolen from her.

because she has been shown over and over again, that the more hope you give, the more hope is defeated. that the more trust you have, the more it is broken. the more love you hold, the more vulnerable and easy to hurt you become.

and you have always been told to stay strong. as pieces of your heart were ripped apart and stolen. you managed to stay strong. but as strength stayed, everything else beautiful was taken.

you let the little girl left of you that everyone is looking for get stolen by every person who hurt, used, and left you.

and there are so many possibilities of where she has went,

that i cannot even answer the question anymore

“where did my little girl go?”

because it seems she is everywhere but here.
A Museum of Youth Culture — who knew? (meaning me…)
By: Lisa
Tags: Youth Culture, Museum, Britain, Growing Up, Blogging

Me outside the Museum of Youth Culture Arts Lab, Author’s own image (2020).

Follow my Blog on Bloglovin

This week I was in central London just before the city moved to Tier 3 (Tier 4 tomorrow) and I came across the Museum of Youth Culture Arts Lab. I was so intrigued as, a) I had never heard of this museum and b) I was wondering what kind of collection this museum entailed. So in this week’s post, I pose several questions on how representations of youth culture can form a museum collection.

What is youth culture?

I guess it depends on who you ask. And what period of time is being reflected through said culture. For Buchmann (2001), ‘youth culture refers to the cultural practice of members of this age group by which they express their identities and demonstrate their sense of belonging…’

However this Underground blog suggests ‘it’s about a movement, whatever that generation’s movement is at the time…it’s the variants between these permanent aspects that come to define different youth cultures’

This makes me wonder how this museum intends to collect a nuanced and evolving phenomenon…

Back to the Museum of Youth Culture

This short video explains the who, why and future plans of this museum, which includes building a physical space by 2023!

Of course, photographs, films and ephemera are go-to materials which show some visual representation of youth culture in Britain. And how it’s evolved over time.

But I am wondering, what else will be collected? How will youth cultures that chose not to document events etc. (ever or infrequently) be represented in this space? Here, I’m thinking of a Touching Bass event, where using your phone was discouraged on the dance floor as it distracts attendees from the present moment. However, disposable cameras were available to take pictures during the event. I guess time will tell. Hopefully, I’ll be able to visit the Museum of Youth Culture Arts Lab in 2021 — which closes in March — tier/ lockdown restrictions pending of course

To round up, I also had a few questions for readers:
Changing Religions
By: Kaitlyn Fisk
Tags: Adulthood, Religion, Growing Up, Change

As a young child, my parents raised my sisters and me as Christians. We attended Church every Sunday and Wednesday. We also helped to clean the church on Saturdays and run the volunteer organizations. As I grew older, the responsibility of being a Christian fell onto my shoulders.

It became a decision that I made every day as opposed to one that my parents thrust upon me. I maintained my status as a Christian up until I just started high school. My belief in the Christian faith went so far as to me contemplating the job of preacher in my future. To put it bluntly, though, I am currently writing this as barely an agnostic.

My change to agnosticism started right before high school. It happened more so gradually as opposed to all at once. My very belief in Christianity was shaken when my dad said to me that he didn’t believe in Jesus Christ anymore. This was a major shock because my dad had been the preacher at my church. My thoughts were spinning because I had always been told that Jesus Christ was the savior of the world and every Christian’s best friend. I felt like my whole life had been destroyed with one sentence.

I did my own research on the subject and soon came to the same conclusion as my father. I no longer believed that the Bible was completely accurate, as many Christians believe, due to the many variations of it that exist and the many different translations. Due to this, I could no longer truly believe that some character in a book was my personal savior.

I am not really a person who can just have “faith” concerning something. All my beliefs were soon put under this new microscope of evidence and my religious title changed to a very loose agnostic. This drastic change hurt me at first, but it led to me becoming a more open person. It also caused me to become a much more logical person. Ultimately, I’m glad this happened to me.
The reasons for the exes
By: Mckayla Terrell
Tags: Hypersexualization, Growing Up

When I was growing up, I was mainly raised by my dad because my parents were divorced and my mom didn’t have the money to support me. I didn’t have a strong and present mother figure until I was around 10 or 11. I wasn’t the cutest little kid either. My dad worked a lot and had little to no time to really love me and bond with me. In elementary school, all the other girls had their “boyfriends” and because I dressed and acted like a boy, I didn’t ever get that. When I was around 13, I got pretty. I hit puberty, I grew boobs. I realized that boys had finally became attracted to me, so I got a boyfriend. which didn’t last long. Then, I got another. and another. and so many more after that. In my mind at that age, I needed to find that love from someone so I continued to have boyfriend after boyfriend. I’m almost seventeen now. I’ve had 20 boyfriends since the age of thirteen. I’m not a whore. I was lonely.
Every Single Moment.
By: Stacy Reeves
Tags: Everyday, Growing Up, Life

One foot after the other. That is what everyone is told. We all learned and grew. We all did it. So why is it so different so difficult for others to be the same, to follow everyone else. Some find their own path, a path so winding and long, yet the same pot of gold waiting there at the end. For others, they may never find the pot of gold, heck they may not even find a path. People seem to forget that sometimes. People seem to keep to themselves, keep in their own heads. But what happens when they unlock that new level, that new thought. They grow. They learn. But some just stay in that bubble, trapped, alone. All alone. Alone with their thoughts, ideas, and wonders. Trapped. Our lives our so sheltered protected so planned out for us. People have expectations while a person has dreams. I think about that sometimes. I endlessly stare at my phone and wonder. Why do I choose to live like this. To fit in? To be like everyone else? Why am I groomed to want to yearn to be like everyone else. To have what everyone else has. I am not sure today, and I probably will not ever be sure. Why our first breath of life, already has standards and rules. Grandma and grandpa want an update. You want to introduce me to your friends. But why do we start our lives. So tightly bolted, heavy chains across our shoulders. What if we were free. To live how we chose. To enjoy our precious years. But no. We have to go to school from eight to three every day for 18 years. Then forced to get a job and start a family. You start to remeber that you are forty years old and what have you done. What have you experianced. The acceptance of others? The stress starts to pile on, the anxiety starts kicking in. Why can I not look like her. Why can I not be as smart as him. We ask ourselves questions caparing ourselves daily to others. This is what people call life. Everyone is looking for the next best thing, to be the next best thing. We will never find happiness. We have always been trapped.
The Village I Grew up In
By: Anne Bonfert
Tags: Lifestyle, Home, Growing Up, Village Life, Travel

I guess I have more memories than photographs of this place. One doesn’t take pictures when home. But rather when on holiday on the beach or in the mountains.

I’ve got pictures from the later days. The ones when I started to build my passion for photography. But those photographs include flowers, birds, and trees. Not the town. I’ve always been an outdoor lover. As a kid already.

I’ve never watched TV except once a month “Asterix and Obelix” where the Gauls used to fight against the Romans. So if you ask me now about one or the other famous movie, or actor. Don’t bother. I haven’t watched it. I have no clue about any famous series or blockbusters.

I know which tree is good to climb on and from which angle you should capture the forest floor on camera. I know which hill is best for sledding and which mountains worth climbing.

But please don’t bother me with famous artists or celebrities. I have no clue.
Officially Entering Adulthood Is Shitty
By: Fareeha Arshad
Tags: Milennials, Growing Up, Adult, Life Lessons, Life

Officially Entering Adulthood Is Shitty

Photo by Edu Lauton on Unsplash

Post-college is difficult.

Sometimes I wish there was a manual to guide me on what to do next. What to expect next. ⁣⁣Be it for better or worse — there isn’t any manual guiding how to ‘adult’ right. ⁣⁣

Following your dream is one thing, and following your passion is another. Finding a balance between the two — is what I aimed for after college. I always dreamt of becoming a scientist. Dream like this requires unwavering dedication and constant efforts. And I was always passionate about writing. But passion like this needs relentless practice and lots of attention.⁣⁣

⁣⁣

After completing my Masters, I decided to give my passion a little focus and at the same time didn’t let go of my instincts as a biological scientist. For the past six months, I have been working from home, doing research, reviewing scientific papers, learning, and then writing scientific articles in layman words for normal people to understand. It may sound pretty simple, but trust me, it isn’t. ⁣

⁣I have worked as a copywriter, ghostwriter, content developer, editor, beta-reader — all of which is far from being a scientist. These skills may not even matter in the long run, while I pursue my career as a scientist. But I believe success is not about the destination alone. It’s about the journey — the risks I take, the people I meet, the things I learn and most importantly, the person I become. ⁣⁣

⁣⁣

Perhaps, success is about becoming everything my six-year-old self ever wanted to be.⁣

⁣
How to Change Your Brain In Your 20s (Despite Everything)
By: Hannah Davies
Tags: Personal Growth, Growing Up, Neuroscience, Mental Health, Psychology

We’ve all laughed about going crazy from isolation. “My last braincell,” “smooth brain,” “brain worms,” etc., popped up a lot. As ever, humor copes with fear.

Legitimate fears, in a year of lockdown limbo.

Early on in the pandemic — mindlessly playing a Nintendo Switch through government announcements of stricter lockdowns, more death — I was worried about regressing to a teenager. Getting dumber, forgetting words, how to socialize, losing independence as a young adult, or having my mental well-being eroded in lockdown.

Instead, my brain genuinely feels more peaceful in December 2020 than in December 2019. I know — I’m surprised too.

It didn’t happen by magic. There is no magical immunity to being affected by COVID-19 this year.

Just knowledge, a slow adjustment process, and effort.

Most of all, effort around answering one question:

What habits can we establish to beat the mental drain of a pandemic and still grow as people?

If a Psychology degree doesn’t come in handy when experiencing a globe-wide traumatic event: when would it, right?

Here are some simple, condensed insights from Psychology & Neuroscience to answer that question. They’ve reassured me that my brain isn’t turning into a puddle and helped me like mental floss. I hope they can do the same for you.

No more brain worms.
The End Of The End
Tags: USA, Growing Up, Poetry, Short, Self

The End Of The End

Growing up, a young pup, in the ides of Ohio,

I thought, and I bought, in the end, I was loyal,

To the dream, how it seemed, of a world well-oiled.

Like on tracks, no go-backs, after years of hard toil,

We were here.

That the end of history was here.

All those years all that suffering that fear,

In a book I could close and not go near,

Soon everyone joining us here.

At the end of history, this year.

Growing up, an old mutt, in the wilds of Colombo,

Untaught and unsought, I saw things become so,

Nightmarish, and garish, a world gone all spoiled,

Off the tracks, going back, all destroyed so

It disappeared.

The end of the end disappeared.

The illusion a child had revered,

Suddenly, it all went unclear,

The end of the end, wasn’t here.
As the writer, I really appreciate your kindness — reading the article and letting me know you found it useful. I’m so pleased, Jonathan. #Smiles
By: Joshua Idegbere
Tags: Writing, Growing Up, Parenting, Children, Mental Health

As the writer, I really appreciate your kindness — reading the article and letting me know you found it useful.

I’m so pleased, Jonathan.

#Smiles
grass is greener—a poem
Tags: Growing Up, Love, Poem, Poetry

G is for “green” and G is for “go”

my life is a field shrouded in mist

G is for going with the flow

i must check off my bucket list

G is for gushing over The One

i swear, this one’s it, no more fun

G is for guilting myself to say yes

ripping off the gauze to find happiness

G is for grappling the lingering shadow

that something just isn’t right

G is for gripping the need to go

the grass is always greener on the other side

jn
Really.
By: Joshua Idegbere
Tags: Growing Up, Children, Life, Mental Health, Parenting Advice

This is something I learned after being cooped up in a house with my entire family for nine months…

23 1
GROWING UP
By: Ruhee Joshi
Tags: New Year, Growing Up, Happiness, Self Love, Birthday

Once I was two years old,

When I learnt to walk and talk,

I was then a playful child,

without any care at all.

Once I was six years old,

I went to school with joy,

I was an inexperienced young girl,

who always use to be happy and never cry.

Once I was ten years old,

I started becoming an independent lass,

I thought I was perfect,

and I never let anyone correct me.

But now I have turned thirteen,

A tangibility of responsibility and happiness gushing through me,

I think about having a bright future,

and it is slowly nearing towards me, I see.

I wish to have a year of love, compassion and delight,

with no sorrow, pain and fight.

Note by the author- Hello everyone, I became thirteen this month, one more year has gone with a blink of my eye and though there was this covid pandemic, I still enjoyed this year, learning new things. With positivity and optimism, I hope that time gets better and the forthcoming year is happier than the previous one.
They Buried My Dad Today
By: Jamie Trowbridge
Tags: Growing Up, Death, Family, Acceptance, Father And Son

Ashes in a cardboard box, with a Tree of Life painted on top.

Dark brown soil. Good soil. A curved stone bench tucked into the corner of a short, evergreen hedge. Box woods?

My Aunt Linda, Dad’s oldest sister, said words. Good words. Necessary words.

Mom sat in her living room with my cat. Big Sister and Little Sister called in from Little Sister’s backyard. Uncle Peter held space, lovingly and quietly, as always, beside my aunt.

They scooped dirt back into the hole with gloved hands. Uncle Peter wore a plaid tie and a wide brimmed hat. Uncle Peter, the Priest, and Aunt Linda all stood outside in the snow-frosted graveyard next to an old, brick(?) church in Portland, ME.

And thus my father has found his final resting place. May he be at peace. May we all be at peace.

Amen.
“Fully-fledged Fantasy”. The class nods in unison
By: Lexie Wise
Tags: Growing Up, Education, Poetry, Teaching

The class nods in unison

when asked if they understand

the lines of the poem

a slight sip of reassurance for me

the exhausted efforts

somehow might pay off

in time, they each will

grow up

the speaker of the poem

contemplated when her time will come

to grow up

I ask the class

if there is a designated age

where one has decided they have

officially grown up

“Eighteen!”

“Twenty-one!”

“Fifteen!” they all shout confidently

as if it is a time of excitement

as if growing up is a reward

is it?

the majority fails my poetry test

and the frustration slowly settles its way into

my body, mind and soul

the repetition, themes, verse,

lyric and narrative

the stanzas and knowledge forgotten

left back at home in their beds

along with their care

surely one of them can see

the bigger picture of all of this

not the poem

but the constant exchange of ideas

the ability to empathize with one another

not solely the words of the poem

but the bigger picture of life

the stepping stone that is my class

the efforts I give that should ignite

a spark of knowledge

the class discussions that create

individuals and opinions

the love I gave and give

as I worry about their home lives

the bravery recognized within the one student

who dares to voice the unpopular opinion

the novels read in class that can

uncover hidden prejudices and racial injustices

not so hidden after all

I finally tell them there isn’t

a definitive age

when one grows up

I tell them it’s unique for every single individual on earth

and that some may never grow up

but that is for the students to decide

whether or not

it’s a bad thing
Stolen
By: Grace Holmes
Tags: Wb Yeats, Growing Up, Yeats, William Butler Yeats

By Grace Holmes | Lyric Essay

____________

Come away, O human child!

To the water and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world’s more full of weeping

than you can understand.

Away. Come away. Away from what you’ve known. You’ve wandered so far from who you’ve been.

Your mother’s gentle, guiding hand, replaced with the devious influence of ungracious strangers, masquerading as Peter Pan.

Your little arms once hung around your father’s sturdy neck, now they hug a neck of glass, your knees to your chest on the bathroom floor; on the frigid tile, your skin, it burns.

Your faery friends showed you forged wonders, faux marvels.

You stared wide-eyed at the wild world you’d won.

They tell you they love you. And maybe they do. Sincere or not, they were sacred to you.

Don’t blame yourself for the foxy grins you missed. When worth is what you’re lacking, even shifty smiles can be priceless.

Princess, I’m sorry. You think you’re worthless. This place is pitiless.

Child, I know. Your little fists are empty now, the cotton candy wishes washed away in the water long ago.

Love, I can’t save you. This weeping world has consumed me too.

But take my hand, because at the very least, I can understand.
Toy By Toy
By: Kellyann Corcoran
Tags: Babies, Growingup, Kids, Moms, Parenthood

Toy By Toy

Today I put the Playmobile’s in storage. They may never come back out. I can’t get this lump out of my throat. It is clear now that it’s the beginning of the end of the reign of toys. The shelves still abound with Legos, board games, Star Wars action figures, American Girl dolls, Magna Tiles, remote control robots and more. I fear, however, the Playmobiles have gone the way of the Little Tykes slide, Weebles, Barbies and Baby Dolls. The Hot Wheels bin too, is thick with dust and no one has pulled a costume from its peg in months. There are no more toy dinosaurs, The corner where we kept the play kitchen with its shiny pots and pans and brightly painted wooden “food” is filled with house plants. And you know what? I don’t like it! I don’t.

Why is my second batch of kids divesting themselves of their toys so much sooner than the first? Why is their innocence so much harder to preserve? Betty’s young childhood was of a different species altogether than Sven’s. The pandemic isolation has fueled screen usage to addictive proportions. The kids plug in to play with their friends the only way they can. Meanwhile, the toys sit untouched, overstaying their time. As much as I despise the clutter, I swear some cord inside of me tears every time I store a special, but outgrown toy, or give one away on a free website.

This is going to be a meager Christmas for so many. So, I’ve asked the kids to look closely at their hoard and choose those things with which they are ready to part. I’m hoping they will make good presents for kids who need them. Still, it’s hard to let them go. It’s hard to see my two littlest babes releasing their childhood one plaything at a time.

There will come a day, not so far from today, when there will be no LEGO’s to step on, no Nerf bullets littering the floors of every room in the house, no Stickbots hanging from the windows, toilet or TV. Doll hair will not need combing and there will be no tearful searches for missing stuffies.

It’s funny, because when you have children, they so quickly become the best part, of every part, of your life that you can’t imagine beyond them. But soon you’re through the baby toys, then the toddler toys, then the tween toys and there it is. Childhood is over. Teenhood whooshes in full of mood and fury, heretofore unknown depths of sadness and peaks of joy. Beyond that horizon they will walk without you. That is exactly what we knew we were getting into when we made these marvelous beings in the first place. That is exactly as it should be. However, if I can’t hand off a bin of La La Loopsies, without tears, handing my children off to the world is going to take a kind of strength, I think I’ve yet to acquire.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Today it’s just the Playmobiles. I need to just take it a toy at a time.
Your Age Is a Simple Number, Your Maturity an Important Choice
By: Moreno Zugaro
Tags: Self Improvement, Growing Up, Age, Life Lessons, Life

The Secret to Fine Wine Instead of Soured Vinegar

“The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.” ― Jean-Paul Sartre

The secret to eternal life has always piqued the interest of humanity. Kings didn’t only pay their alchemists to produce gold from thin air but also to develop an elixir of life.

Today, Google searches show that we’re more interested in maturing than living longer.

The secret to maturing lies in the wisdom to embrace the natural trajectory of life instead of closing yourself off. You have to grow mentally in proportion to your age.

This mental growth rests on three pillars, akin to the three obstacles to maturing pointed out earlier.

First, you have to live well and to the fullest. It’s hard to leave the dinner table when you’re still hungry.

I’ve made the absolute most of my time as a student. I’ve partied like crazy, slept until noon, and enjoyed hours upon hours of lazy time in the sun. And it’s because of this indulgence that I can now make peace with this time, and trade it for 60-hour workweeks. Neither do I regret, nor do I miss.

Second, you’ll have to let go of what you can’t hold and embrace what’s new. Nobody likes a cold, rainy winter, but you’ll still have to change your swim trunks for a warm jacket. And once you accept the change of seasons, you can appreciate a hot bowl of pumpkin soup under a blanket in front of a chimney.

Being independent, not settling, and keeping your obligations to a minimum is fun, but you can’t hold onto it forever. It gets boring after a while. And even if you do, you’ll still die at one point. Such is the way of life.

Instead of clawing on what’s meant to go, embrace what’s new. Take a close look and you’ll find beauty in it. Problems pave the path to happiness and responsibility paves the path to freedom.

The third pillar is what’s most beautiful about the process of maturity. You get to decide what you hold on to.

Your life is like a buffet. Over time, you sample different foods. A soupy adventure in your teens, some turbulent scrambled eggs in your twenties, and a hearty steak when you turn 40. If you mature, you get to eat your favorite foods every day.

You can keep the best parts of all episodes of your life. The childlike curiosity, the drive from early years on the job, and the tranquility and appreciation of the small things that come once you settle. Getting old is sampling, maturity is cherry-picking.

You’ll gather experiences and explore what’s out there, but you’ll also know what’s worth it and what isn’t. Maturity is what lets you see clearly even if your eyes are clouded by a cataract.

Growing old is inevitable. How you do so is up to you.
I’m going through changes
By: Esther Bello
Tags: Gratitude, Growing Up

As disgusting as Big mouth can be, I will never not watch a new season immediately it is released. I’ve always really loved Jessi above all characters. I’ve always felt a deeper connection to her than any other character. Season 4 made me love her even more because I could see a part of me in her character. Jessi left her friends, she left the place she knew as home to go to New York. She didn’t respond to the change well. Much like Jessi, I left the one place I knew as home, Lagos, to London. Like Jessi, I don’t really like the change. It hasn’t been filled with rainbows, I’ve had bad days that last weeks. But unlike Jessi, I think I’m handling it pretty well. Sometimes, I feel overwhelmed, I feel like I’m having problems that are too much for me. But then I remember, that God will never let me go through something that I can’t get through. I also remember to give myself a break. My friend always tells me that we are our worst judges and we tend to be too hard on ourselves. Watching Jessi made me think of the things I’m grateful for and I realised that as bad as this year has been, as much as I have felt so much hurt and the loneliness of moving to a new place, alone and I didn’t get the chance to make friends because of covid, some good things have happened to me and the people I care about. I’m grateful for my mum and my siblings. I’m grateful for my friends, I’m grateful that I’m a first class graduate, I’m grateful for winning a signed copy of “Love in colour” from Happy noisemaker. I’m grateful that even in all of this madness, I have made peace with the fact that I’m currently lost in this world and I’m not sure who I am anymore and I will go through so many variations of a woman before I finally know who I am. I’m grateful that I was able to show love and vulnerability so whole, with all my heart, and also feel that way, for a while. I’m grateful for sitcoms like Friends, how I met your mother, fresh Prince of BelAir and the Big Bang theory that always make me laugh and take my mind off things when I’m sad. I’m grateful for my sensitivity. Again, I’m grateful for my friends because even when I feel alone, I always have it somewhere at the back of my mind that they chose me and they love me. It’s comforting. I’m grateful for being able to stay sober for 8 weeks and ending my sobriety with so much tequila that I embarrassed myself in the dms. I’m grateful that none of my bad decisions have been that terrible. I’m grateful for Ozzy Etomi, I find strength and motivation in her tweets. I’m grateful for Big mouth. Above all, I’m grateful for simply existing.
Boys to Men
By: Ngang God'Swill N.
Tags: Haiku, Growing Up, Healing, Survival, Child Abuse

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I grew up with a rocking lion.
By: Samantha Blake
Tags: Growing Up, Family, Self, Psychology, Short Form

I grew up with a rocking lion.

When I was little, I never had a rocking horse. My parents had gotten us something better — a lion.

It was a big stuffed lion with a seat on its back, mounted on two wooden rockers just like the standard horse. It had a full mane and an open mouth showing its teeth. A little scary, but mostly awesome. Looking back, I like to think it helped shape me into who I am.

No matter where you stand on nature vs. nurture, I’m convinced little things like that can make a difference in how someone grows up. Even decades later, I vividly remember grabbing onto that ‘ole lion’s mane and riding him into my 5-year-old adventures.

To me, that toy was proof it was okay to be different. In a world of rocking horses, dare to choose the lion.