*Sigh* hello, and welcome back to my page. This post stings a bit.
I suffer from something I like to refer to as “big-heart-syndrome” (BHS). It means that I care way too much about every little thing. It. Sucks.
Let’s talk about that.
So, let’s start with what inspired this post.
School.
I’ve always been a perfectionist, striving to make everything as accurate, clean, sized-up, and squared-up as possible. I like to be able to be proud of my work. This shows most in English. I write a minimum of two papers a week for my “World History” class. (Yeah, it’s an English paper for a history class. That has… nothing to do with history, really. Doesn’t make sense to me, either.) The subject is current events, focusing on certain categories surrounding news in general. It can be international news, national news, weather, sports, health, technology, or travel. I hate all of those topics. Like, let me write on animals! Science! History! Prehistoric pizzas! Just give me some freedom! Because when I write what I like, I’m actually proud of my work! I can let my creativity out the same way I let my hair down at the end of the day. Maybe this is just an odd, uncommon boost of self-confidence talking, but when I write what I love, I feel like my stories actually rock! I’m so friggin proud of some of the things I’ve written. Maybe nobody will ever read them, or care about them, and that’s fine! I’m still proud!
But when I have to write about cardboard flavored topics… it sucks. It all sucks. My writing goes from:
“Lydia saw the splintering wood out of the corner of her eye, but nothing could stop the catastrophe. The loud crack heightened her hysteria, sending her into a fit of panic. Luckily, Emily shoved her hard in the lower back, knocking her out of the path of the falling tree. The loudest thud shook the ground beneath her, and the breath in her lungs was expended. When Lydia rose a second later, shaking, a tremor curled around her bones. The noise still rung in her ears like a gunshot. But then she turned around. Emily was nowhere to be seen, and the broadness of the oak was so large and shattering that nothing under it could have survived. Tears blossomed in Lydia’s eyes and the devastation sent a weight falling to the pit of her stomach.”
To:
“Many studies prove that dancing can be more than just a workout for your body, but for your brain as well. It improves your cerebral health while increasing your cognitive spatial memory! Dancing stimulates your nerve growth factors, which are proteins that help keep your sensory neuron health in check. But it is not only good for random little parts of your brain. There’s a reason that dancing helps you accept big changes in life: it improves your neuroplasticity! Neuroplasticity is what allows your brain to adjust to new things. And clearly, that is very important in life.”
I had to write about FREAKING neuroplasticity, because the “health” category is as close as I could get to science. I hate it. So I look for loopholes. Most of the time, I write about animal news from other parts of the world. That way it can count for “inter/national news”, but I can still write about the subject that I want.
Anyway, that’s not the point. I look for loopholes because I’m only proud of my work if I enjoyed writing it. I don’t write for the end product, I write for the enjoyment of the sport. So these papers suck, because I don’t enjoy writing them.
BUT
I am a perfectionist. I have BHS. I am physically incapable of doing things “half baked”, so these simple assignments turn into enormous projects very easily. I will sometimes spend hours looking for an acceptable article base, and then hours writing, re-writing, reviewing, and editing what I’ve done. Sometimes I’ll decide that it isn’t good enough, so I’ll ditch it all and start over. It usually takes up at least two days for me. Because I simply must do the best I can, or it’s not worth doing at all.
This becomes another problem quickly. Spending that much time on “easy” homework means that I don’t have time to do other things. Lately my schedule has been mostly school, washing dishes, hanging out with my people (usually to study or go to church) and lowkey dying when it’s time to go to sleep, because I’ve literally drained myself all day. I don’t even remember what half of my hobbies are, because I haven’t had time to work on them in forever. I know that I like to paint and draw, and I know I used to really love reading and watching movies. But recently it just feels like life is so hard, and I barely do anything I actually like. It’s so annoying when people complain about it, too, as if I enjoy spending all my time doing school. Trust me, this is just how it is. Not something I like or do for fun.
I don’t have a job. I don’t have to drive. I don’t have that many friends. I have a best friend, a few people from church, a Drummer Boy, and a miniature zoo. I have many hobbies that I don’t spend time with, a family that I never see, and so much school that my eyes are swimming in work. I try to write here when I can, but even this seems tiring now.
This is life for an introverted teenager with mental health struggles. Everything is exhausting. Plus I never really sleep that well.
These are some of my symptoms for BHS. I care way too much about every little detail, whether that means I’m re-writing my entire China homework to make sure that my handwriting is nice, constantly checking in with Drummer Boy to make sure he’s doing well, washing dishes at 2 a.m. because I felt bad for procrastinating and I wanted to do something nice to surprise my mom, giving my pets extra treats when they look lonely, writing 4 pages when only 1 was required so that the story makes sense, constantly trying to surprise my people with little gifts to make sure they’re happy, planning Christmas presents months ahead of time to make sure all the bumps get smoothed out, re-writing a paper, organizing my notebook so that notes are easy to find if anyone needs to borrow them, trying to read extra in advance so that I’ll be prepared for the next class, using a lint roller on my bed at night so I can wake up slightly less sneezy, trying to cover up any physical flaws by concealer or skinny-ing jeans or always fixing my hair, trying to take special care of my teeth, writing everybody notes to make them smile, trying desperately to figure out a holiday gift to give that kid that I don’t really know, buying new pens so that birthday card for my cousin looks perfect, trying not to cry when I get overwhelmed, trying not to disappoint everyone, trying to hide my feelings so I don’t bring anyone down, trying to spread out my time so no one feels forgotten, trying to remember to eat occasionally, trying not to pass out because I haven’t had anything to drink all day, trying to decide what to wear the next day so I won’t have a mental breakdown in the morning.. there’s just a lot sometimes. And I try, and I try, and I try to be a good person and always do the best I can. I try to not be perfect, but to be authentic. I try to control my thoughts and do what is right and protect the people that I care about. But it always feels like I’m messing it all up. I can be hard on my brother, sometimes I just want to lay in bed and do nothing, and my perfectionism get the best of me. My thoughts can wander to places that make me smack myself with a rubber band, I always seem to do the wrong thing, and I feel like I’m always hurting the people I love.
I wish. 
This is Big-Heart-Syndrome. It’s pulling in so so many directions that you don’t know where to turn. It’s fighting with yourself every day. It’s feeling lost and not knowing what to do. It’s looking free but staying chained. It’s taking the pain on willingly because you think you deserve it, or you’re taking it for someone else, or you’re trying to “shape yourself” using wisdom gained from bad experiences. It’s so many heartbreaking feelings, all crowding in at once until you scream and scream and scream before you lose your voice.
But it’s also giving that homeless man your lunch. It’s also comforting that friend with hurt feelings. It’s also bringing donuts to church for the volunteers who work so hard. It’s also making cards for people you don’t know when it’s their birthday. It’s also helping that stranger pick up her papers in the hallway. It’s also being nice when you’re upset. It’s also caring for animals. It’s also being there for people, even when you’re tired. It’s also sharing knowledge with someone who feels left behind. It’s also cheering up that chic in the bathroom crying. It’s also making cookies for that special someone when they have allergies. It’s also finding loopholes in things to make things go smoother and help people find balance. It’s also volunteering time to help the missions you believe in. It’s also doing favors for people without complaining. It’s also washing dishes to surprise your mom. It’s also planning secret projects for holidays. It’s also sharing moments that you’ll remember so so very brightly. It’s also seeing things in shining colors and trying to make the best out of every situation.
Big-Heart-Syndrome can severely suck. But it can also be vivaciously vibrant and wonderful.
And yes, I’m always tuckered out completely at the end of the day. I’m almost always struggling to keep my crap together and make my brain function semi-normally. I’m usually trying to hold myself together while I’m slowly being ripped apart piece by piece. But I’m okay with that. It’s just who I am.
Thanks for reading! 🙂 The purpose of this was not to complain or brag or anything, I just wanted to write about another struggle with pros and cons in my life. This is personally heightened immeasurably by the fact that I struggle with anxiety and depression, so BHS is not the sole fight here. But anyway… Oh- and please note, just because doing nice things takes up valuable time doesn’t mean that I don’t still want to do them. Big-Heart-Syndrome makes helping people difficult at times, but it’s still something that brings me joy.
I hope you have a great day/afternoon/night, and don’t forget to treat people as if everybody had BHS. You never know who’s struggling behind the scenes.
(P.s. yes, I am a Hufflepuff.)
♡, Shortie
