On Regression

Hello everyone (all zero of you). How have you been? You thought I forgot about you? Spared you from listening to my nonsensical ramblings? Well, you thought wrong. I'm back, baby. I may not doing better than ever. But I'm back, nonetheless. I mean, what can I say. Precarious times. *shrug*


Let's dive right in, shall we?


I recently realized that I'm going through a crisis. No, this is not the global pandemic type of crisis. This kind of a personal crisis. A crisis of the psyche. I believe I am suffering from what many experts call Regression. We've talked about what it's like as an adult to come home for the holidays in a previous post, but this time, the feeling is much different. Before this, I knew I'd be returning to my adult life in a given timeframe. There wasn't enough time for the ghost of Isabella's past to completely take over. Before, she and I had slight brushes. A memory here, a personal trauma there, but we would pass each other like an acquaintance you bump into at the local Subway. We'd acknowledge the existence of the other but go no further than a courtesy nod or smile. Now, well, now, I can't get rid of the bitch. Her angst haunts every drawer of my childhood bedroom. Oh, she's more than taken the reigns on my Mental Intercom System. Every hour she yells something rude into the microphone and attempts to take control of the Joystick of Decision Making, to which the CIA: Commander in Adulting, has to arrest her.


Here are some of today's mental breaches:

  • "Ding dong, bitch! You haven't had a boyfriend yet because you were so focused on the drama in your family life that you had no time for any in your personal life. Now, you're almost 20 and don't even know how to date"

  • "Hey, I have an idea! Let's ruin all that progress you made in the past year and return to all your destructive habits. That'll be fun."

Like shut the fuck up. We get it. Tell it to the DSA (Department of Self-Actualization).


Regressing and being home for this long have also caused a bit of a syndrome many call Nostalgia. It is physically impossible for me to consume any sort of media that I haven't already read, watched, or listened to. I've recently been binging Avatar: The Last Airbender, reading all of the Harry Potter books, and jamming out to Taylor Swift's "Fearless" album. (Which reminds me... where's my Taylor Swift woven blanket I got at her concert in like 2009?) 10-year-old Isabella is thriving. Pretty soon I'll be putting on my fingerless gloves, scrolling through Tumblr, and dreaming of getting a feather tattoo. I wonder if Justice just dropped the new Webkinz. I hear that the Gem of the Day at the Curio shop is a rare one.


So many memories have come flooding back over the past two months:

  • Did you know that my Club Penguin username was Moonsurfer? I made it in 2006 when you didn't need numbers after your username. I was also obsessed with tipping the iceberg. I never tipped the iceberg.

  • I also just remembered that I was the first one to complete Run 2 on CoolMathGames.com. I was in homeroom in 6th grade. Tensions were high. It was me and the boy I had a crush on, head-to-head, but I came out on top. It was 60 seconds of fame and it went instantly to my head. Come to think of it, my entire ego is built on the fact that I finished first.

  • I used to cake on a Mac Studio Fix foundation every morning and swipe on the MegaPlush Volum' mascara every day. The color was much too light and the mascara was super clumpy. I thought I looked good. I did not.


That feeling came back, too. Teenager-dom. And the wave of annoyance that you get when you're being bossed around by a parent. It's always worse when your mom or dad asks you to do something that you were already planning on doing. Like, yes, sure, my laundry has been sitting in my room unfolded all week. I can't argue with you there, but I was planning on doing it today and when you told me to do it, I just couldn't shake the immediate aversion I had towards any sort of laundry folding. And yes, I know that I haven't worked out all week. I was thinking about working out starting tomorrow, but now since you're telling me to, I won't work out for the next month. I think it's an independence thing, but I hate that my teenage rebellion is starting to surge back. As I have a compulsion to be as independent as possible, anything that disrupts that independence sends red hot fury into my bloodstream. The classic eye-roll is back, too. It's really just an unconscious thing at this point. Teenage Isabella is fighting to make a comeback. But if we've learned anything from Lindsay Lohan's failed comeback on Lindsay Lohan's Beach Club, it's that bad attitudes are out. Self-actualization is in.


Really what's to blame here is the lack of control. Do I have to ask permission for my friends to come over and if I can turn on the A/C? Three months ago, the only time I was asking permission was if I could be in the next round of a "That 70's Show" style Circle (if you know what I mean). Nothing was off-limits unless I said so. I could stay out as late as I wanted (or come home as early as I wanted [which happened just as often as the late nights]). Now, if I'm gone for 30 minutes to get Pizza, my dad will call in a worried panic as if I'm off galavanting with the local drug dealer. First of all... really? You can't just leave me be for 30 minutes? Second, I'm not a dumbass and calling me in a worried-panic discounts any trust you might have in me.

To sum all this up, I think I'm feeling restricted. My independence has Regressed to that of a 12-year-old wanting to go to the mall with her "guy friend". I want to go outside and live a real life. And since there's only so much knitting one can do before going actually insane, everything better be opening up soon.


This whole thing has made me endlessly grateful that I'm not 16 anymore. I like 20-year-old Isabella so much more. I've genuinely thought about it, and I don't think I'd be friends with 16-year-old Isabella. She kinda scares me. I think she'd be mean to me, honestly. She'd give me those Mean Girl eyes, look me up and down, and go "ugh, nerd". Being a nerd is cool now, Isabella, get with the program. You have an attitude problem, missy, you ain't hot shit. I think that liking myself more now is a sign of self-growth, isn't it? A part of maturing is evolving into a kind of person that you like. I suppose life is a bit like getting to know someone. But that someone is yourself. And the more time you spend with that someone, the better you know them. Does that make sense?


Anyways, what about you all? I'm curious, has been stuck at home made you regress too? How is regression taking form for you? What are your insights into your past self? What changes have you made to improve yourself over the past 4 years? What do you hope to change in the next 4 years? Let me know.


That's all for now folks. I pinky promise that I will post more now. Especially because I can't use schoolwork as an excuse to slack off. Until next time, stay safe and healthy and yada-yada.