Body Positive · Changes · Changing · Consumerism · Greed · Health · Hope · Negative People · Outrage · Politics · Positivity · Self Acceptance · Self Esteem · Self Love · Suicide · Youth

. Content of Your Soul .

I watched the video/commercial. I am stating my opinion, which may be biased as a woman, but here we go. I see absolutely nothing wrong with this commercial.
 
If anything, I find it empowering, for BOTH men and women.
 
If anything, I find it validating, for BOTH men and women.
 
If you’re a man who is finding issue with a commercial or company promoting respect, then the issue is not with the content of the commercial, but the content of your soul.

We are in the midst of an awakening within our society. People, men and women alike,  are beginning to hold each other accountable for unacceptable behaviors.

Women no longer need to remain tight lipped with grace over inappropriate behaviors, comments, or actions towards them or their bodies.

Women no longer need to, “smile and giggle” when there’s an unwanted ass grab. 

Women no longer need to accept unsolicited dick pics in private message while active on social media.

Men no longer need to remain “tough” and carry the persona of “strength” when bullied, belittled, or mocked for showing emotion.

Men no longer have to hide their “less than masculine” hobbies or interests. I have male friends who find that over the last 10-20 years, aspects of their “male persona” have changed. “I used to be uncomfortable with my wife’s purse in our cart. Now, I just don’t care.”

Men are even allowed to show support in one another without it looking, “Gay”.

If toxic masculinity is, as Piers Morgan says, “… pathetic global assault on masculinity,” then why is it even a hot topic? What I am finding is that men who are offended, protesting, and boycotting like Piers Morgan, are avoiding the question of whether or not they’re actually guilty of these very behaviors.” (compiled with the fact that a lot of them I’m reading on social media haven’t actually WATCHED the video). Don’t come at me with your defensiveness if you haven’t fully educated yourself on the topic at hand.

Just to be clear, Gillette’s ad does not implicate all men as those who act in this manner. This ad promotes that all men should hold each other accountable by calling out the behaviors.

This is not attacking “all” men for this behavior, it’s attacking the behavior itself. If those seeing this as an attack on “all men’s” masculinity, then it’s not the commercial with the issue, it’s your perception of masculinity that is.

“The gender doth protest too much,  me thinks. “

Maybe it’s time to actually discuss and define, “Toxic Masculinity”? What I have found researching the new coined term, “…a manifestation of Patriarchy that both harms men, and causes men to be violent and aggressive against women and occasionally other men.”

Personally, for me, it is when we even need to call out “boys will be boys” mentality. It’s when we tell girls that, “…it means he likes you if he pulls your hair”, as opposed to teaching our sons that pulling hair is not way to express your crush on a person.

Or, the doxxing of female game programers, artists, geeks, nerds, cosplayers, and activists who fight against the men who feel women have no place in the gaming cyber geek world.

Women, such as Brianna Wu, had all of their personal information released online opening avenues of abuse from men worldwide. “One tweet said, “I’ve got a K-bar and I’m coming to your house so I can shove it up your ugly feminist cunt.”

If you do not see an issue with this, then the problem isn’t Gillette, again, it’s you and your belief systems.

Another example of abuse because of gender and nationality, Kelly Marie tran. Who had this to say when she penned a beautiful statement as to why she’s leaving social media. She was mocked and harassed for everything from gender to weight, from role to ethnicity. The attackers took open hunt on her instagram and even her woookiepedia page.

Their words seemed to confirm what growing up as a woman and a person of color already taught me: that I belonged in margins and spaces, valid only as a minor character in their lives and stories,” Tran wrote. “Their words reinforced a narrative I had heard my whole life: that I was “other,” that I didn’t belong, that I wasn’t good enough, simply because I wasn’t like them. And that feeling, I realize now, was, and is, shame, a shame for the things that made me different, a shame for the culture from which I came from. And to me, the most disappointing thing was that I felt it at all.”

Or, how schools push and shame their preteen to teen girls about their clothing, as opposed to teaching boys to respect women and their bodies, and then punish them for wearing shorts and tank tops in 102 degree weather.

Our daughters are raised with vile, sexually charged advertising in EVERYTHING, but then shamed if they immulate the very examples they’re taught. Toxic masculinity is defending and promoting advertisers like Abercrombie & Fitch or Carl’s Jr, who make a point of objectifying women, and encouraging the behaviors behind it. There’s even a study that shows men and women (BOTH) are affected mentally by these types of advertisers. (Sited Resource) This study has found that sexualized advertisements could have a negative effect on men as well as women .

Final example of toxic masculinity, in my eyes, are the sheer number of sexual violence and assaults that do not get reported. Why? Because women aren’t taken serious when they say they are victims.

Do you know how many rape kits have sat unopened, unexamined, untested? In my state, Washington State, according to a 2018 statewide inventory conducted by the Attorney General’s Office, 6,460 backlogged. If that’s just one state, imagine the numbers for our whole nation. It doesn’t help when certain celebrities promote these ideals

If toxic masculinity isn’t a thing, there wouldn’t be NUMEROUS social media pages dedicated to showing that women are property/meat, and men deserve all of it no questions asked….
Because, as Piers Morgan says, “Let boys be damn boys. Let men be damn men. Sexually harasses coanchor.

More sources:
Women Women Refuse

#MeToo

Addressing Gender-Based Harassment in Social Media: A Call to Action
Rachel N. Simons, The University of Texas at Austin

End the Backlog – Accountability Project by Joyful Heart Foundation

Justice and Research Statistics Association

#Gillette #MeToo #Empowerment #Toxicmasculinity
Beauty · Changing · Fear · Healing · Health · Positivity · Self Acceptance · Self Esteem · Self Love

. Gluttonous Self-Harm .

 

 

I had a very personal, painful realization as I was stuffing my face with mac’ n cheese last night. I didn’t stop eating until I felt my stomach protest from the expansion and fullness; even then, I didn’t want to stop. It’s the only thing I “felt” since last Friday. This is not good self-care practice. It is, however, a good awakening.

I work in Social Services. I’m aware of the “self-harm” phenomenon, I just could never get my mind around it. “How can someone willingly cut themselves to ‘release pain’ and ‘feel alive, to feel something'”? I have been really critical in my way of thinking towards this. Having come from an abusive past, I could never fathom openly harming myself until I bleed.

As I was sitting on my couch, “shoveling” food into my face, feeling the effects of it expanding my stomach to the point of pain, I strongly realized I am no different. You can’t see my self-harm scars in forms of angry red scars on my skin. Nope. You see it in my weight.

I am morbidly obese; those who read this know this.
I am a health risk; those who know me personally know this.

But, I realized, I don’t eat enough on a day to day basis. I’ve been told time and again by family and friends, “You eat like a bird.” I’ve heard from nutritionists who put me on a caloric intake diet, that I’m not meeting my daily needs by about 200-500 calories a day. This is true. I’ve tracked it with myfitnesspal. I have seen it, black and white, that I’m lacking caloric intake. But, I shrug my shoulders. In a sense, I don’t care. Food is just not a thing for me. When I do eat, or even think about eating, I tend to do a lot of nibbling/grazing. (Which I’ve been told is healthier, but eh..)

On the other hand, when something emotionally charged triggers my C-PTSD, the only thing I can control is my food. Hell, I can’t even control my thoughts until well after gorging. It’s become somewhat of a rebellious act, since my teen years. I heard, “You’re too fat to do that” or “Lose weight and conform” so much in my youth through puberty, I went the route of “Fuck you, I’m going to eat anything I want, and how much I want!”

My sister, whom I love dearly, took it the other route. She has an eating disorder binge / purge. We both are self-harming, but not in the obvious ways we hear about. Over eating should really be looked at as a self-harm, just as cutting is.

So, here I am. Fully aware of my obesity. My mortality. My mental illness. And now, fully aware that I cater to that demon that lives inside me that said, “You only have control of this in your life.” I thought I had exorcised my demons that last few  years of therapy. I thought they were shoved back down to the black murky hell they emerged from.

I’m now learning that there will always be one that shows itself when least expected.

Where do I go from here?  I’m really at a loss with this reality. I want to fight this like a warrior. I want to show that I can grow through this. Where do I start?

Beauty · Blessings · Changes · Changing · Gratitude · Happiness · Healing · Health · Journey · Love · My Life · Positivity · Self Acceptance · Self Esteem · Self Love · Spirit

. Check Engine Light .

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Turning 40 has been interesting and surreal. At 40, you’re in this strange place where your mind believes you’re still in your late 20 – early 30, but your body says, “Um… nope.” But it’s not a sudden denial of fantasy. No, no, it has more of a subtle creeping approach that slowly draws your attention towards it. Like a well loved car.

The key to successful aging is to pay as little attention to it as possible. ~ Judith Regan

Thirty-five is when you finally get your head together and your body starts falling apart. ~ Caryn Leschen

You’re driving along, sun is shining down on your pretty red car. You haven’t noticed your car in a long while, as it’s all become automated; get in, get to work, get in, get home. But the car, the paint, body and soul of this vessel hasn’t caught your eye in many moons; that is, until this sunny day.

The sun hits the paint just right, and you’ve noticed that the shine has really started to weather and fade. “That’s okay.” you say to yourself, “she’s been well loved.” You start taking inventory, as you sit in traffic for longer than desired. The fabric on the seats have thinned, thread and weave showing it’s still holding together. The dash and the doors, calloused in area where it’s provided the most support for hands. The windshield, and windows, a bit blurry from road f.o.d., but you can still see well enough to get you to and fro. Her engine sings wonderfully, even in moments of hiccups, burps, stutters. The frame, body and wheels may creak, stick, and resist movement, but she always finds a way to venture on. She may be aging, but she’s still a beaut. She’s got spunk and desire to continue escorting you and your kin, even if her age is showing. You don’t fully notice these changes, because you’ve grown old with her.

I was stuck in traffic this evening; bad, heavy traffic. It was raining in true Washington State fashion, which caused major back-ups and long periods of being at a stand still for no other reason than it’s wet out. In those moments where traffic paused, I realized that my body is my vessel.

I know that this should be obvious, and it probably is for most. However, I’ve been somewhat disconnected from my physical body my whole life. I’ve never paused long enough to practice mindfulness and truly connect with my skin, bone, and sinew. I only learned the art about a year ago. I used this dark, dreary day to connect within. I began to take inventory of “me”.  I never realized that when you hit 40, your warranty really does expire and parts start changing in rapid pace.

My eyes, as I have aged, have gotten much worse; much like the windshield on a well traveled car. I can still see, with assistance of glasses. But, age has changed them.

My hair has totally thinned out. It seems with the more silver strands that have staked claim to my temples, the thinner my hair is. It’s much like the well used fabric of the seats in the aging car. My threads are still there, just not as thick.

My hands are soft, but calloused in areas where I’ve used them well over the years; painting, typing, etc. Much like the interior of the doors and dash. They’re still viable and supportive, but well used and worn just right.

My body, I will admit I haven’t taken great care of it. It’s aging like the wheels on the car above. I creak. I groan. My knees and ankles resist movement. But, alas, I’m still able to move towards the desired destination.

I’ve taken stock in my physical, emotional, and mental changes. Age has affected me, all for the better. I may be at the point in life where my mind is young, but my body gently reminds me that it’s surpassed roller skating with ease, taking stairs two at a time, or dancing until early dawn. But we’re an old couple now, connected at the hip. I accept my aging process. I’ve tuned my dial, and turned up the vibration and will remain grateful that I’ve had the chance to connect with this body of mine; well before my check engine light turns on.

. Writing . · Beauty · Belief · Blessings · Body Positive · Buddha · Changes · Changing · Compassion · Counseling · Depression · Faith · Fear · Forgiveness · Friends · Friendship · Gratitude · Happiness · Healing · Health · Hope · Journey · Love · Music · My Life · Positivity · Romance · Self Acceptance · Self Esteem · Self Love · Spirit · Suicide

. Drops of Jupiter .

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Life is way too short to waste…
Make every moment count.

This is so easily read,  just as easily as it is to type. Digesting it, however, is like taking a spoonful of medicine without the sugar aiding it on the way down; bitter, grainy and really hard to swallow. 

Make every moment count. Well, what happens if you wake up 39 years old and realize there are only a handful of moments you chose in your life to make count? What happens if you’re facing death, a mere 30 years if you’re lucky? What happens when mortality, and that fact that you do only have one life to live, knocks the wind out of you?

You become me. Broken, but healing. Lost, but slowly finding my way. Cynical and jaded, reclusively hiding from the world; one book, one netflix program, one video game at a time.

All I can think about, right now at 2:20 a.m. on Thursday, May 28, 2015, is that I really lived this life wrong. I have made so many horrible choices that just flushed the best years away. Most of those choices were for love. They were for men who presented love in a package that was beautifully wrapped, colorfully attired, and perfectly alluded. I was always able to see the best in even the worst of cases. What I was seeing was this brilliantly presented gift, what others could see was a torn trashbag barely holding the contents within. Because I was seeking love. I was searching for it, harder than finding a hidden bedazzled, heart-shaped geocache’. 

Irony here. My favorite quote from the Bible, “Do not arouse or awaken love until she so desires.” Song of Solomon 8:4. I first read it sitting in the most painfully dull church sermon. I absentmindedly thumbed through the Bible, and it jumped off the page at me. I was roughly 17 years old. I was eye deep in bad choices; trying to find validation and love through sex. “Do not arouse or awaken love…” Simply put, “Bitch, stop pushing. Stop fighting to be seen and loved. Stop arousing life with bad choices.”

 Choices. . . that’s a heavy word. C.h.o.i.c.e.s; each letter weighs upon my shoulders like Atlas’ own sphere he holds up. Atlas, who was punished for a choice he made with his loyalties. Atlas, whose common misconception is that he held up the Earth. Atlas held celestial spheres, a globe shape with stars, planets, systems. Humans make wishes every day, almost as many choices are made as wishes. We wish upon those stars, those celestial entities that burdens Atlas. 

If I could time travel, I would go back to pivotal moments in my life where I had made wishes upon stars, and would tell myself to pay attention to my choices, and not so much my wishes. I would travel to those moments when I had opportunities to be a stronger, vibrant, intelligent woman. I would whisper sweet nothings in my own ear, encouraging me to just love me, for everything that I am. I would hold my own hand, pat my own back, and hug myself when times were too rough. I’d offer an encouraging word when the negative in my head takes shape from the shadows around me, pulling in the dark, while it looms over me. 

I would be my own lover, my own soulmate.  

I would do all of this so that I could enjoy being me without the additional hurt I’ve put myself through; by my own words, by my own thoughts, by my own choices. I didn’t follow my creative path, because conforming was expected. I am having a midlife crisis, with a body that feels 60 years old and a mind that never emotionally matured passed mid 20s. 

I love that I am getting to know me. I love that I am working so hard at healing, counseling, and reshaping my thoughts about myself. I hate that it has taken me my whole life to get here. I hate that it has taken suicide attempts, self hate, and the desire to disappear to realize that, by God(dess), I am worth

Every breath.
Every step. 
Every fucking heart beat in my chest.
And every good choice I will make for myself from this point forward. 

Because, I am thankful to wake up and realize my big bang is still forming. That I can still create a livable, viable environment in the next 30ish years.

This point forward, I do not want any regrets. I do not want to look back and see my choices were horrible from puberty to death. I want contentment and genuine happiness; even though I’m clinically depressed. I know that I can be happy. 

A few songs of solar systems, choices, and being okay.

Beauty · Belief · Body Positive · Changes · Changing · Compassion · Depression · Friends · Friendship · Happiness · Healing · Health · Hope · Journey · Love · My Life · Positivity · Self Acceptance · Self Esteem · Self Love

. Fat Girl Walking .

“Each push forward leaves the former person you were in your wake, creating room for an improved version, one that is stronger, healthier and forward-looking, one who knows that anything is possible.”

A friend and I are going to start walking. It will be slow. I will be fat, slow and out of breath. But, I will be going, one footstep, one pant, one sweaty brow at a time. I am excited to start. I am also already exhausted at the mere thought of starting.

This friend and I have been posting motivational comments, pictures and stories with one another to try to get this going. Our schedules conflict somewhat, so it’s been hard setting a launch date. People can read, see and comment on our facebook posts; even people I no longer with to associate with. These people are mainly from high school.

One of them attempted to add me on facebook. Now, I have spent a great deal of time trying to purge those I no longer want in my life. I have been trying to replace them with a troupe, or tribe, of people that are more aligned with my kinship. Best quoted by my friend above, “The people in my life all share one thing in common…they are all genuine. Seriously real, empathetic awesome people. I have no place in my life for bigots or close-minded people… and all claim different religions, or spiritual callings… yet don’t push it on others.” I need these kinds of influences, and have worked hard over the last two years to develop the boundaries and strength to do this.

The one that attempted to add me, although she’s not a bigot or close-minded, she surrounds herself with individual from my high school years that tormented me. I tried to make amends with that part of my life by attending my 10 year high school reunion in 2004. I was met with comments like, “She got as big as a school bus.” and “Who does she think she is dressing like that?” So I’m here to say, “FUCK OFF” to that era and the people who represent that era of my life. They were NOT kind to me in high school, and never grew up 10 years later. I missed out on my 20th, because, no way was I going to harm my path of healing by attending something that makes me feel more like shit about myself. This person, represents that era, those people, and those wounds.

She messaged me and said she just wanted to root us on, be our cheerleaders. Ya know what, I don’t want a cheerleader who’s expecting me to fit into some ideal of weight loss from high school on. See, I’m a fat woman. I am fat. I weight 324 lbs. There, I put it out there. “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” I was large in high school, BUT NOT OBESE. I was thick, curvy and muscular from JROTC. But, I was called lard ass, fat ass, and cow by those very peers that later called me a school bus.

I am not walking to lose weight, for them or for me. I am not walking to “lose weight.” I am walking to increase my breathing function, especially due to my Sarcoidosis. I am walking to build my endurance. I am walking to free my mind of the thoughts that have been weighing me down; THAT’S THE ONLY WEIGHT I AM LOOKING TO LOSE.

See, I am happy with who I am. If I walk and never lose an ounce, I am more okay with that than anything else in my life. If I walk, and retain the body gifted to me by my maker(s), then by God, I WILL enjoy my BODY. Those that I choose to have in my life, well, they will also love me for who I am. They will not love me for trying to change myself… in anyway; weight, mind, body, soul. This is my life. I am okay with myself, body included.

All this comes down to one thing… You didn’t support me then, don’t try to support me now. I’ve created boundaries for myself. You’re not apart of that inner boundary I have. Thank you for your attempt to cheer me/us on, thank you for trying. But as I move forward into my 40s, I’m doing this my way.

. Writing . · Abuse · Beauty · Belief · Blessings · Body Positive · Changes · Changing · Compassion · Counseling · Depression · Faith · Forgiveness · Friends · Friendship · God · Gratitude · Happiness · Healing · Health · Hope · Journey · Love · My Life · Positivity · Self Acceptance · Self Esteem · Self Love · Spirit

. Bad Seed .

11054476_1042644772431636_2984777582140298064_nPLEASE CLICK THE PICTURE TO READ THE FULL ARTICLE. IT’S WORTH THE MOMENT TO READ THE EXPERIMENT AND READ THE OUTCOME. IT RESONATED WITH ME.
— In the pic below: Left facing apple got glowing, positive input. Right facing apple got all smack talk.
Words can make you sick. And heavy. And dark.
Words can make you light. And radiant. And energized.
Words infuse.
Words refuse.
Words bless.
Words protect.
Words energize.
Words heal.

MORE OF THIS ARTICLE CAN BE READ BY CLICKING THE APPLE PICTURE

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I really needed to read this today. WOrking and processing through my counseling appointment last week, which was geared around negative self talk vs. positive self talk, this was a visual example of what is taking place.
In an odd observation, I find it rather cathartic and hopeful that the “Bad Apple” is in the hand of the arm with a butterfly tattoo. It may be preserved, internally, as bad, but it has a chance of metamorphosis. The seeds are still there. The seeds can be replanted, thus creating a new growth.
We all have the potential for new growth. We just need to wash away the “rotten” words we keep fertilizing our mind, body and soul with. We need to turn over the soil, and learn to water, feed and encourage in a more positive manner.
Belief · Body Positive · Changes · Changing · Compassion · Counseling · Depression · Faith · Family · Fear · Forgiveness · Friends · Friendship · Gratitude · Healing · Health · Hope · Journey · Love · My Life · Positivity · Self Acceptance · Self Esteem · Self Love · Spirit

. Getting Happy with Life .


So, Easter came and went. I spent it with my mother watching a few movies. No Easter dinner, no treats, just a quiet evening with mom. I am so okay with that, no complaints here. I did notice, however, that a lot of friends posted a lot of family pictures; usually husbands or wives with kids running amuck.

Today is the day after Easter. Today, I am processing my thoughts and feelings. I am lonely. I wanted nothing more than to have someone amazing to hop in the car with me and go check out some ruins, ghost towns, old mills… anything worthy of photographing. I love my mom, but, it just didn’t meet the needs of my desires and dreams.

Today, because of the lonely, I found myself checking out Craigslist’s dating profiles. Don’t judge, I was curious. I got about five profile in and stopped. I literally said to myself out loud, “I don’t want this. I’m not ready for this.” However, in my head I was saying, “You’re too fat, you gargantuan lard ass.” Yes, literally those are the words and voices that go through my head.

I continually tell myself that once my mental and spiritual well being is back on a healthy path, my physical will follow too. Now, I am highly doubting this is even a possibility. I’ve been toying with the idea of a bariatric surgery. I Just don’t know anymore.

The only thing that I do know, for sure without a doubt, is that I AM continuing on the path of counseling and healing. I just told my counselor last week that, “If I die alone, I’ll be completely okay with that.” I feel there is strength and validity behind what I said. I mean it, to the fullest. But that does not alleviate the fact that I had a very lonely, “alone”, moment this weekend.

I am truly content with my dogs and my son. I can come and go. However, I would love to be able to have someone jump on board and travel with me…. someone besides my mother. I am almost damned near 40 yrs old. I want to see and photograph many things. . . with someone fun; a soul mate. This does not mean a lover. This is just some with the same vibe that can swoop in and fly with me.

Part of the problem being this age and finally finding myself, is that all my friends are already found; husbands/wives, kids, jobs they’ve held for 15+ years, a sense of self. I look at myself as a failure because of the sheer amount of jobs I’ve been on.

All of these negative thoughts and life identifiers is exactly why I need to stay put, stay in counseling and continue to grow…..

Alone.

(For now at least)
Abuse · Batterer · Beauty · Belief · Body Positive · Counseling · Depression · Forgiveness · Happiness · Healing · Health · Journey · Love · My Life · Positivity · Self Acceptance · Self Esteem · Self Love · Spirit · Suicide

A day of steady.. blows to the gut.


Shit I work out in counseling – Although it’s not really worked out it, it’s just floated to the surface.

I never really realized how .. mean I am to myself until a friend said something the other day about western state. Aparently during the hike, I was beating myself up under my breath. I mean, I know I am in my mind. I never realized how vocal I am about it. I thought it was primarily in my mind.
But I catch my mom doing it.
“I’m such a dumb ass”
“What a fucking idiot”

And then I noticed … I do it too. “Come on fat ass.”…”cow” fat ass” toad” dumbass” ugly nasty cow”.

The truth behind all the fat / body positive posts is that I’m hiding behind that.

I would love to be substantially thinner; 180 ish.
I flood my page and my eyes/mind with images that it’s okay to be a fat girl; because that’s all I am.

But, I hate it. I hate not having energy. I hate being short of breath because of my sarcoid AND my weight. The two combined are killing me.

I would love to be able to wear clothes that I find adorable, unfortunately they stop at size 22.

I hide behind it, because I’m trying to convince myself I’m okay.

I’m talking this out with a friend. She says to me, “What would YOU tell you? If all those “tapes” disappeared, what would you really say to you?”

Truth be told. If I memory banks were magically wiped, I would be reverted to a child like state. I would have no clue how to positively encourage myself. I have never had that.I have never, in my life, been reinforced. Or taught how to reinforce confidence myself. 

That’s a sad, sad thought. 

. Writing . · Abuse · Batterer · Beauty · Belief · Blessings · Changes · Changing · Counseling · Depression · Family · Fear · Forgiveness · Friends · Gratitude · Happiness · Healing · Health · Hope · Journey · Love · My Life · Outrage · Positivity · Romance · Self Acceptance · Self Esteem · Self Love · Spirit · Suicide

Put it in your dream journal, you freaking hippie.

Today, has been the one year anniversary of my fleeing my abusive situation. One year. One year should be enough to toughen up, pull on my big girl panties and move forward. It has not been that simple. I am sure it would have been more simple if I hadn’t side tracked myself into believing I was ready for love again.
Michael, was a deceiver.. he was a liar in the purest sheep’s clothing. He led me to believe I was in a safe place to fully open and begin healing. He encouraged me to open, flourish heal. In a lot of ways he damaged me more than my batterer did. He took what was left of my trust, my faith, my ability to stand up and heal myself. And I allowed him to do it.
I need to get up off of this couch. I need to get a move on again. I am crippling my own damned self by this personal talk of ‘no good’, ‘no worth’ and all the other horrible things I say while sitting here slowly disabling myself.
I have fallen hard a few times these last few years, and even though I have gotten up each and every time, I have found it has been getting harder to do so. This last plummeting event has proven so. But you know what, I’m up. I may not be fully functioning, but I am up. I have risen. I have risen in my own way, in my own due time, but alas, I am standing.
I need to embrace my weird. I need to marry all my differences into one amazing being. I’m an odd duck, I know this. So I need to stop trying to conform and fit into some idea of what I “should” be and accept who I actually am. I’m hiding behind fear (so, so much fear) and I need to get up, this one last time, stay up and own who I am. I have written about this numerous times. I know this. I believe this on a intellectual level, I know this. It’s getting the rest of me to pull the line.
I queried a few of my friends to find out what they think of me, who they “see” me as:
* retrobilly
* rockabilly
* retro
* eclectic
* ghosts
* geek
* hippie (my son calls me hippie all the time)
This really is what is thought of me. I have convinced myself that they see ‘fat’, ‘pathetic’, ‘poseur’ … Nope. This is all my own crippling thoughts enabling my decline. Well, no more.
So, I need to get up and get dressed. Make an effort to embrace who I am. (of course, with all this said and done, tomorrow may be a very different view point.)
Beauty · Belief · Blessings · Body Positive · Changes · Changing · Compassion · Counseling · Depression · Faith · Family · Forgiveness · Friends · Friendship · Gratitude · Happiness · Healing · Health · Hope · Journey · My Life · Positivity · Self Acceptance · Self Esteem · Self Love · Spirit · Suicide

Try.. do they like you…


Wait a second,
Why should you care, what they think of you
When you’re all alone, by yourself
Do you like you? Do you like you?

The question, “Do you like you” literally crippled me incapable to continue what I was doing when this song came onto iHeart. I had never heard it before, but damned if the Universe’s gift to me on Christmas was a soul penetrating song that forced me to stop in my tracks and tune in. I leaned against the counter (as I was doing dishes) and just listened. Unfortunately, I couldn’t rewind it. When I finished with the dishes, I headed to my laptop to pull up the video. Even more amazed at how beautiful this video is.
We’re dawning on a new year. This has to be the hardest holiday season ever for me. Before, I could numb myself to it, just live through whatever was surrounding me. But this year, I am necessitated into really looking at myself. I have made choices that has obligated me at looking into my life and why I have arrived here, at this moment. I have to stop trying, I do. I have to let go. I know that’s a running theme in my blog. I really need to stop going backwards. I need to look at now, right now. I had a friend send me a picture:

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Purpose. 2015 will be devoted to finding MY purpose. I have a reason why I’m here. I have to. No one person should, has to, is meant to go through all of this. 
I vow to myself to be present, mindful, of myself; me and only me. I don’t mean to come across as selfish, but I really need to repair everything, from my outer surface to my inner core.
I vow not to “change” anything about myself, but instead, learn to accept, adapt and incorporate every part of me I think is flawed. Every part I think people judge me on. Every part of me I apologize for, over and over again.
I vow to stop apologizing… for just existing. I wish I could see “me” as everyone else does.
I vow to forgive myself. This is going to be the biggest struggle for me. Forgiveness. I am so ready and willing to forgive everyone in my life, but myself. Why is that?
I vow to finally, fully, like who I am. To stop putting off the impression that I am “fine”, or that I am “strong”, or that I actually like myself. I know how to put that impression out there if I need to, when it’s appropriate. But, no more. Raw, real and me in all scenarios of my life. All walks. All persons. Me, take it or leave it… but do so with respect.
Because, you as well as everyone else, deserves the love and respect that you give to others.