Matt Joseph Diaz

Between all of the political arguments and videos of dogs being excited to see their owners, I’m noticing a trend appearing all over my timeline — seemingly increasing every week. A lot of fucking people are getting engaged.

Tinder's convenience hasn't “converted” anyone into suddenly only wanting one-night stands. I’ve never heard anyone say “I used to only want to sleep with people I was emotionally invested in, but Tinder is SO CONVENIENT.” Nobody’s treating their sexuality like impulse-buying a candy bar by the checkout counter at a fucking grocery store, so stop treating them like they do.

My roommates [...] weren't aware that I live with bipolar disorder until a few weeks after I first moved in. In the month or so since, I’ve learned a lot about the way we approach our interpersonal relationships when living with mental illness, especially with those who are closest to us — both emotionally and literally.

It's time for #MondayMotivation with Matt Joseph Diaz. Today Matt is talking about vulnerability. 

The “you” who opens their eyes in the morning isn’t the same “you” lays down their head in that bed that night. In those few hours of consciousness you have more exposure to life, you experience a world of compassion and cruelty that has the potential to change the trajectory of your entire life.

This week, Matt addresses everyone out there with a lady as their partner. Which is a lot of us, so listen up.

Once I became a body positive writer and speaker, I told the story of that night on podcasts and in interviews as an example of the sort of reaction I was afraid of prior to my video about my excess skin going viral. Every time, the interviewer made a comment about how Dana was “the ugly one,” not me. And every time, I told them I didn’t want her to be vilified or insulted.

This week Matt talks about the new job he never expected to have, and how changing your career path isn't just perfectly normal — it shows how much you've grown as a person.

As much as you want to believe people are all the same, we don’t have the luxury of being seen as the “default” in the same way white, straight, cis people often are. We don’t have the luxury of dismissing our painful history and systemic issues for the sake of everyone getting along, because we’re still in the middle of them.

After spending a long time in nature, it stopped being intimidating. It started being calm. The quiet wasn't something I feared anymore. It was something I wanted to cherish.