Saturday, January 22, 2011

"I know that I want to concentrate more on my inside-pretty than my outside-pretty, because that's gonna go away. But if your inside is beautiful, it never wears away. The light always shows on the outside if you are striving to be good inside." --Erykah Badu

I've been away for awhile. Going through some change as I've written about before.

Where to begin? We should just start at the root of it all, or what I believe it to be. Something is holding me back personally. It has nothing to do with my professional life and everything to do with my personal view of me.

The ironic part of it all is that I have such a bright and amazing future ahead of me. I can see it, touch it. It is promising... but I cannot shake certain memories of my past.

Last night there was nothing on TV, so as I flipped the channels I ended up on an episode of Animal Hoarders. Heartbreaking as it was to watch, I started to piece together what it was that caused them to start the obsessive compulsive behavior in the first place.

All of them had suffered a loss. Whether it was the death of their mother, or the daily wasting away of their alcoholic father; each of them lost something they loved. As a result they became deeply attached animals as their only way of having an object to cling to.

Animals depend on you. They rarely leave you. They love you unconditionally. When no one else is there, they are.

Read between the lines people. I'm not an animal hoarder, but I can identify with their loss their want for unconditional love and the need to want something there.

Deep down inside me, there is one thing that I have held on to for years. While it's obviously not comfortable, fashionable, healthy or reasonable-- I've had an ongoing issue with my self esteem. Not my public persona, but my private one.

Alright. Now I know what you're thinking.

This is not about being down on myself, but rather thinking about how I get over it.

How do I get this cloak off of me that hides me from being hurt? Instead of hoarding animals or things (that other hoarders show...) I hide myself under my weight, my look... anything that focuses on my outside. There, I said it aloud.

It's been years since I said that openly repeated that or thought about it.

See, I remember the day that the words "I'm worth it..." came out of my mouth. It got me in trouble. Being over confident causes false courage. My lack of being anything less than humble ruined my life, and caused me so much grief that I decided that I never wanted to have anyone's attention for the wrong reasons again. I didn't want to be "outside pretty". I wanted to avoid the pain.

Instead, I focused on my "inside pretty". Trust me, sometimes that was even ugly. Yet, I figured I could be a good person and just hide in my fat suit.

Well, honestly- it's not only getting a little heavy, but worse for wear. At this point, there needs to be a catalyst to pull it off of me.

What it really comes down to is comfort. Living in some form of the past is comfortable. It means you dont have to change even though everything else around you is. You can safely hide in your own ignorant bliss.

But, as I become older... as my life becomes less complicated, more enjoyable and all the things I've placed the additional focus on come to fruition- I'm faced with the realization that my personal life is what I have left to fix, now I need to get off my ass to fix it.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

“You cannot choose your calling. Your calling chooses you” -Og Mandino

At the present, there is a lot on my mind.


If I didn’t know better, I would say that things are going exactly to plan. Honestly, that makes me a little nervous.


Change is great. It’s needed. It ensures you can have a new challenge or create a new you. Change is the Phoenix that rises.


Change also makes you uncomfortable. It makes you question yourself. Not in what you know and what you are confident in, but what you are actually doing and what you’re hiding behind.


Yes. I said hiding.


I know what I’m hiding behind. Those who know me personally know exactly what I’m talking about. While I’m not sure whether or not I will ever actually verbally admit it, I am sure that it’s staring me right in the face.


I hide behind it all the time. It’s the reason why I may never really find love. It’s the reason why I may never have the confidence to take that risk. It’s my very own safety blanket.


Here’s the kicker though.


When something is meant to be, it shows up. And no matter how ill prepared you are, you cannot make enough excuses to tell it to go away.


You can try to avoid it. You can attempt to ignore it. But when it shows up, it shows up. It’s called your calling. And it will reoccur until you do something about it.
About five different times in my life have some extraordinary things occurred that forced me to wake up. Every experience has been ignited by drastic change that I enacted on purpose. And the event or “calling” has been the tsunami that comes along with the move.


Interestingly enough, I have dodged every bullet. I ignored the request. I’ve made excuses as to why. But now, maybe it has to do with my age or something…I can’t avoid this anymore.


Whether you like it or not, whatever is meant for you is bound to make its way into your life.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

October 26th is my Thirty-Fourth Birthday.

I have this thing about birthdays. They are always such an emotional time for me. I take my time analyzing what went right and wrong. Frankly, they become a bit overwhelming for me altogether.

Age Twenty-Five was a milestone. But it wasn’t until Twenty-Six that I felt real responsibility. Between a relationship, supporting me, my family and anyone else that claimed they needed it. I took on too much.

At Twenty-Seven, the only man who I have ever respected and admired passed away (my grandfather).

At Twenty-Eight, I met the man who is now my ex-husband.

At Twenty-Nine, I was excited about starting my own family and what my thirties would bring.

At Thirty, I buried my mother at the age of Fifty-Five.

At Thirty-One I was married and at Thirty-Two I had filed for divorce.

They call Thirty-Three the “Jesus Year”.

It is called the “Jesus Year”, due to the on purpose nature of things accomplished in this time. There weren’t carelessness to his acts. He was full of knowledge, wisdom and preparation. He knew how to act appropriately when needed, he used the right language to be effective. He showed restraint as necessary, only because he was intent on walking the path he had before him.He had faith. There was purpose in all he was doing.

The start of my Thirty-Third year was miserable. I was alone. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be somewhere else or someone else. All I could crave was change. Some would say I had little faith. As I look back, I was meant to be alone. I was meant to reflect on who I was. This was time to make connections with people who will become even more important than you could imagine. It was time to reconnect with people you never expected to see again in this lifetime. Rejection was part of my learnings; confusion too. Every part of it was necessary, and the anxiety that came from it. Heartbreak was on purpose, because it was meant to teach me what I really want, and not to settle for what was good for now. It proved to me what I had inside me all along, and to stop second guessing myself. I met the person I was supposed to be all along and it felt good. I met ME.

If someone would have told me a year ago that there was light at the end of the tunnel, I would have laughed at them. Who were they kidding? It wouldn’t have even mattered if they had said they saw it with their own eyes. And you know what, I was never going to see that light until I got out of my own way and removed all of those obstacles that stop you from being happy.

Because— you are more vulnerable when you’re happy. You’re also more willing to take risks. You’re more willing to get your life back.

And I guess thats it isn’t it?

Every now and again its good to get a kick in the ass (even if it’s for an entire year) to remind you that you’re worth it.

Happy Thirty-Fourth Birthday to ME.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

I'm Writing Again.

The Heart of My Life


I started looking around and noticed that I had left quite a few things untouched on...http://tumblr.com/xjsls4ulp



Sunday, September 12, 2010

Ok- I'm back.

I've realized that while the new blog gives you an insight to my mind and thoughts- it doesn't quite allow me to really pour my guts out like this does.  Crazy right? 


However, I did take a stab at it yesterday.  Now, I would like to share it with you here.  Just click the link and get transported to the site.  


I promise I will update more.  Until then, enjoy this.

A lot can happen in one year. http://bit.ly/a8LX8I

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

You Cannot Save Everyone

If there is anything that I've learned in the last month, its this;  You can't save everyone.

Even if I'm not even sure if I *WANT* to save anyone, there is bit of remorse when you think you could have told them about the big Mack Truck coming their way.

Some may say that you learn through experience.  I would say that's true.  The things that make me wise today can be directly attributed to my mistakes.  

But why suffer if you don't have to?

I'm not trying to "Silver Spoon" folks, but after awhile-- you just need a break.  You begin to wonder if there is such a thing as good fortune.  Maybe if things go well enough you will buy a Lotto ticket!

About ten years ago, I met someone who was willing to show me how to save myself.  Guess the saying "Teach a man to fish and never will he go hungry..." could apply here.  

He showed me the ropes, warning signs and mainly just provided hope.  Hope that the string of bad luck would end.  Hope that the days would get easier.  Hope that it was within myself to save ME.

After all-- You can't save someone who doesn't want to save themselves.


** Everyone:  This will be my last post on this blog, as I will be integrating this site and another site together.  On my Tumblr blog, I will continue to write, and as an added benefit, you can see the life inside my head.

To go to this site, please click here--  Thank you for joining me on this journey.

Good night! **


Tuesday, August 3, 2010

“The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” --Maya Angelou

Recently, I've come to the understanding of why people need other people.  Sounds so weird, I know-- but bear with me.  It has never been a luxury for me to have a lot of family.  From my previous posts, you probably understand my situation.  If not, then read this post to catch up, and the rest of this will make sense.  

This past week was a funeral for my Uncle (my Grandpa's brother), who had to have been like ninety-something.  Anyhow, with me being the last of the family line-- there is an expectation that I will attend any funeral-wedding-baptism-birthday party of the living Aunts/Uncles, etc.  I wish that it could be so easy, but alas- it never really is.

Though I didn't attend the funeral, but sent flowers instead.  It always kills me because I'm the last of that family tree-- alone.  Period.  

"Miss, how would you like us to sign the card?--Your name only?"

I never do that-- instead I sign posthumously under my Grandpa's name.  Its impossible to bear the idea of being solo.  So, I place myself in the company of all the family that once there was.

Most people when they feel lost WANT to be close to family and home.  My issue with that is who and where is my home?  Who are the people who are my family?  Then I started thinking again.

When things got tough the choice to move close to my friends was an easy one; I needed them.  Recalling each instance over the last umpteen years, revealed where my patterns were.


Safe; was what I was looking for.  I've lived my life so unsafe-like that any stability found was golden.  My friends were always surrogates for the family I never had. And still today, as I near my thirty-fourth birthday, I'm still looking for "safe".

  
The definition of safe is as follows:

Safe 

Free from harm, injury, or risk; untouched or unthreatened by danger or injury; unharmed; unhurt; secure; whole; as, safe from disease; safe from storms; safe from foes. 

Conferring safety; securing from harm; not exposing to danger; confining securely; to be relied upon; not dangerous; as, a safe harbor; a safe bridge, etc. 

Incapable of doing harm; no longer dangerous; in secure care or custody; as, the prisoner is safe. 

A place for keeping things in safety. 

A strong and fireproof receptacle (as a movable chest of steel, etc., or a closet or vault of brickwork) for containing money, valuable papers, or the like. 

A ventilated or refrigerated chest or closet for securing provisions from noxious animals or insects. 

To render safe; to make right.


You can't buy safety, in case you didn't know that. Sure you can buy a gun or maybe take martial arts to protect you, but no amount of training or ammunition can make you safe.  Safe is something one needs to find within one's self.


Wish me luck with that.