Flawtastic

I've been a wee bit of a slacker lately.

I guess it's not really "lately" if I haven't really worked out (and by working out I mean pushing myself to my limit) since August.

Yeah. It's been awhile.

But for the past couple of weeks, I've been feeling that NEED to get back at it again. Just kind a slight inkling or little twinge of "Maybe I should give it another go" but a full on OBSESSION with getting back a routine at the gym. And it is sadly not for reasons I am all that proud of.

I still have this annoying little voice in the back of my head, reminding me of all my flaws: I'm not skinny (and never will be). I'm not all that tall. I'm lumpy. My thighs jiggle. My tummy is not flat. I'm uber pale white. And I'm not terribly pretty.

Yes I know.....that voice is the back of my head is my own, repeating all the shitty things I have been told over the years and that my self worth is not based on any of that. Because when you get beyond the surface of the shy, chubby girl who just wants to be liked, there is a whole other, unexpected person. A person who is quite funny, witty, wicked smart, caring, and empathetic. She's just really hard to find.

What does any of that have to do with going back to the gym?!

When I was heading to the gym nearly every day of the week this summer, I felt AMAZING about myself. I don't remember feeling that good about who I was in a long time. Sure I wore a tank top over the top of my bathing suit (fyi: halter tops and keyhole bathing suits do NOT work if you are super busty hence the tank hiding the crazy cleavage), but I WORE a bathing suit while hanging out with friends at their pool and didn't trying to hide. I wore compression pants (a.ka. spandex for life!) while at the gym for running and working out and didn't once care about the sideways glances I was getting. And then I walked from the gym to my car in said spandex and didn't give two shakes about what anyone thought.

But today? None of that would happen.

In fact, this morning when I was getting ready for work, I found myself purposely digging out clothes that hide my lumps and bumps and that help hold in my tummy so I have some curves. And all I wanted to do (and did) was cry.

I cried because I miss who I was three months ago. I miss looking at my closet knowing that I'm about rock the crap out of my favorite dress and boots. I miss not feeling like I look and feel like Jabba the Hut.

But today I'm making my way back. Making my way back to the person I know and love and adore. She is the same person I am today, but a little more sure of herself. She knows she is strong, independent, funny, smart, beautiful and amazing. She knows she is "enough" just as she is and won't compromise herself for a mold someone else created.

Wednesday Wishlist

Do ya'll have those days or even weeks where you think to yourself, "If only I had....." or "If only I could....."?

This has been my November. So rather than obsess about it, I've decided to make it into a (short) list because then MAYBE one day I'll be able to check said items off the list. Positive thinking. That's what this is all about. Positive thinking.

So here's the list of "If only I could....."

• Reclaim my funny. This has been an ongoing issue. My funny is lost and it has been for some time. I'm much more of a good time than one would be able to deduce from recent posts. Someday I'll find it again and I'll share it with the world.
• Run a mile without feeling like my lungs are going to explode or my legs are going to fall off. This could be due to the cold weather right now, but doubt it. I'm just out of practice. 
• Utter three little words to someone and NOT worry about them saying "No." One would think that I'd be slightly used to rejection, but nope. I'm not. What I'd really like to do is just hand said person a copy of Ben Rector's new album, The Walking In Between, and tell him to list to track #5. 
• Knit. I'm pretty good with a crochet hook and some yarn. But knitting needles? Nope. I can't seem to get it together, but there are so many super cute patterns out there that I want to try, but they are for knitting and not crocheting. 

Waxing Poetic

Inspiration has been pretty hard to come by these days.

It seems like I get up, I go to work, I come home, I go to bed.

Little has been able to hold my attention for more than a few moments. A movie, a drawing, a book. I feel like a bit of a hummingbird flitting from flower to flower, terrified that if I stay a moment too long something will go horribly wrong.

Some would blame this all on a change in the weather. Winter, yes WINTER seems to be knocking on the front door with a vengeance. Begging, no demanding to be let in despite the fact that it's a month early. Some would say it is this drastic change that has thrown me into a bit of a tailspin that I am powerless to stop.

They would be right, but not for the reason they think. Yes, technically it's the change in the weather. The change in season bringing along something new. Something that has my head swirling as I try to make sense of it all.

But it's not a thing or what and at the risk of completely outing myself it's a who. It's a reminder that things don't always go like we want them to go. That life doesn't always play fair. And that despite the overwhelming feeling that it's impossible, that it just isn't in the cards, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe, just maybe the tiniest bit of hope lies in the belief that there are surprises around every corner and we just need to be open to accepting them. And then remembering not to fuck it up when it does happen.

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Honest to Blog is a series where I let my pen glide across the paper without letting my inner editor know what is going on. Some posts might be controversial. Some might be a bit boring and some might be downright ridiculous. But they will all be open, honest and 100% me.

Sunday Confessions: Bloggers Dilema

I had originally had this uber witty, fun filled post planned for today.

But then life happened as it tends to do.

I think all bloggers will tell you there is a precarious balance between being open and honest on your blog and being too open and honest on your blog.

Today, that is my struggle. How much do I divulge without making myself sound like I'm out seeking sympathy, my family being annoyed with me (although there always seems to be a slight bit of "annoying" when it comes to how my family has viewed me in the past so I guess that doesn't really matter) and still keeping some sense of honesty about this place. And keeping that sense of honesty not just for my readers, but for myself as well.

So today I pose the question to you. How you do decide how "personal" to get on your blog?

Shit Just Got Complicated

Remember on Sunday when I say I was thinking about going back to school to finish my degree?

Well, not even 48 hours later it is happening. As in, this morning I sent off my application for admission and transcript requests from my previous college.

I'm not going to sugarcoat it--I'm pretty terrified about this whole adventure. It's been a long loooooooong time since I've been in school. And at that time I didn't have a full time job. Or a dog. Or any other responsibilities beyond getting myself out of bed and to class on time.

I know I'll be able to make it work. And I know that in the long run this is the best option. And as scared as I am of the whole thing, I am looking forward to finishing my degree in Psychology and eventually using it for good instead of evil. But it is still daunting.

So yeah. Now we wait for the acceptance letter which by the way the idea that I may not be accepted never crossed my mind until now. Interesting.

Moving on.....now we wait for the acceptance letter, obsess over the budget as I try and figure out how to fit in books, tuition, most like a new laptop and yes, school supplies (seriously--if I'm going to back to school, I'm buy new school supplies!). And also try and figure out how I'm going to squeeze out an extra hour (or three) everyday for classes, homework and whatever else gets thrown at me.

Do You Mu Mu? Part 2

25 Things Fat People Shouldn't Do is an unabashed middle finger to the preposterous idea that any human who weighs more than the status quo does not deserve to live a full and well rounded (ahem) life. The list of 25 is composed word for word from direct lists of sheer assholery found on the internet. These range from the absurd to the profoundly shameful, and I will be disproving this offensive notion with style. Feel free to join in on the fun, and if you do, link at the bottom so I can share. May the Chub Club live long and prosper!

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I haven't done one of these posts in a really long time, but since I was feeling kind of cute yesterday I figured what the heck! And then I realized I had already done this particular item on the list. Whoops! Hopefully Jes won't mind the double link-up.

I unfortunately do not own an official mumu, but what I do own is a fabulous black dress that was actually referred as a mumu by someone. Because apparently if you aren't wearing something totally clinging to your body it's a mumu. Whatevs.

I am a big time believer is wearing what you love, regardless of what fashion rule is popular at that moment. This dress is one of those things that I love. And if I could wear it every day, I would wear it every damn day of my life and not apologize for it. Putting this dress on makes me feel fabulous. Like I can conquer the world. Or at least my workday or a night out with the girls.

I feel like myself in this dress more than anything else that I own. I feel fierce, independent, sassy and maybe even a little bit sexy.

I think every girl needs a dress like that.

This is me totally strutting my stuff.

Me not strutting my stuff but instead fixing my hair which makes for a semi-awkward pose which is always awesome. 

Can we talk about this necklace?! LOVE IT.                    Ridiculous fact: I love that I have laugh lines.

Tonight's view from the shores of Lake Michigan. 

Arbitrary Numbers

While putting together this post, another blogger post a link to the following article via Twitter: A 157lb Dissection. It's similar but from a different perspective and definitely well worth the read.

On any given day, any of the following numbers could be used to describe me:
 
They will tell you my age, measurements, for how many years I have been on some kind of a diet, my height (in centimeters), weight and dress/pants size.

But what those numbers won't and can't do is tell you I am: smart, funny, sarcastic, intelligent, caring, thoughtful, shy, independent, loyal, cool, sensual, introspective, moody, carefree, sexy, hard working and artistic (I certainly could have come up with more adjectives to describe myself but I didn't want to over do it).

Despite all of that, we are judged on that set of numbers every day. And for some, at times including myself, our self worth is based on those numbers as well.

I've spent a lot of time hating those numbers. But even more time being ashamed of them. Judging myself when I'd see a number climb when I didn't want it too after failing miserably when trying to make it go down.

I cringe at how much time I have wasted because of those numbers. But because of that time, I  am (shockingly) in a place where I no longer let those numbers define who I am. To be honest, it doesn't really phase me anymore to say I wear between a 16 and 20 depending on the store (XL or XXL for those stores that don't use numbers) or that my weight is somewhere in the area of 230 but can't say for sure (the last time I stepped on a scale was 2 months ago at the doctors office). Not that anyone should really care, but my inseam is between a 30 and a 32, bra size is 42 and I supposed I'm about 5'8".

What does phase me though is the reactions from others when they hear (or read) those numbers. Because when they do and then hear me say "Not all that worried about any of those numbers" (ok.....that is a lie......I'd like to be taller, but I digress), their perception of what I am saying is that I've given up on my myself.

Rest assured the last thing I have done is give up on myself. My realization that I am more than "just a number" and that my happiness and comfort with who I am is far more important than what that list of numbers might say about me. It can't be be measured in the traditional sense.

Instead it's measured by knowing that when I look in the mirror I no longer hate what I see looking back at me. I no longer poke my belly wishing it was flatter or hating the way my hips curve out in that way. I no longer cry over the lumps and bumps I see or the stretch marks and scars I have that never seem to fade. I no longer dread having to pick something out to wear because an article of clothing might go against some arbitrary fashion rule that if you exceed a certain size you can't wear a certain style, print, etc. I am no longer obsessed with trying to hide my flaws or figure out how to draw attention away from them.

It is measured by my ability to let people in to see who I really am and not who they want or think I should be. It is measured by my knowing my depression, which has always been fuel by low self esteem and terrible body image issues is starting to ebb. It is measured by the fact that I smile more and that I laugh more. It is measured by how many mornings I wake up, happy to experience a new day.

Getting to a place where one truly loves who they are is not an easy path to take because it goes against almost everything we are taught by the media, society and sometimes even our friends and family. But I promise you, taking that leap of faith and deciding to that that path is 100% worth it.

I am whatever you think I am, until you get to know me.

I've been slowly working out this rambling, long winded post in my notebook over the last few days. Little progress has been made, most of it doesn't make much sense but everything I write has been leading me back to the same thought: I am at a point in my life (age wise) where I shouldn't still be asking the question "Who am I?" Of course I've not come up with a single answer but that hasn't stopped me from trying.

And then today I saw a Facebook status which read: I am whatever you think I am, until you get to know me. And it hit me.......kind of. I still haven't worked it all out, but I'm getting there.

All this time, I've been trying to sort out who I am, who I think I am and who everyone else thinks I am. And trying to reconcile those three things, within the accepted "rules" that confine our daily movements and thoughts has been exhausting and then throw into that the unwritten rules of blogging and all any of this has done is give me a ridiculous headache. But of course whatever it is that people think of me, is because of what parts of myself I do (or do not) share. I've spent a lifetime putting up walls to protect myself, when really all they've done is keep people out. And it's a hard habit to break. 

I can't help but wonder what it would be like to live without those walls. To say whatever it is I'd like to say. To write what I want to write about. And to share whatever it is that I'd like to share. I realize it isn't something that would happen overnight and is going to be something that is going to take a lot of work. And will be all kinds of awkward. But needs to be done. Somehow. 

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Honest to Blog is a series where I let my pen glide across the paper without letting my inner editor know what is going on. Some posts might be controversial. Some might be a bit boring and some might be downright ridiculous. But they will all be open, honest and 100% me.

Sunday Confessions

To many ideas to hold: I've always been one to carry around some kind of notebook with me (friends make fun of me when I pick up multiple composition notebooks every time I go to Target) but most of the time they remain tucked in my overstuffed bag, unused and unloved. But lately I've been filling up the pages like crazy. Part of me has been contemplating starting (or restarting) a journal again, but very little of what I have been writing has been linear so that might be a bit weird. Regardless of that, the notebook I have been writing in is packed with all sorts of stuff from ideas for blog posts to crochet lists.

Off Kilter: Admittedly, things have kind of gone off the rails in my personal life. So much so I've been bouncing between the ideas of going back to therapy to hiring a life coach to taking a solo vacation into the woods with a tent. Sadly, two of the three things I can't afford and I hate camping which is why none of these things have happened. Do ya'll just ever get to a point where nothing seems right and you just don't even know where to start? This is where I'm at and it is pretty unsettling.

Just Gettin' By

Big time disclaimer on this one! I was never a big fan of talking about "triggers" until I finally, FINALLY, worked out for myself what words, topics, actions, activities could in fact trigger my depression and anxiety and I would hate for this post to do the same to others. Even as I sit here, proof-reading what I've written for today, I have to remind myself that I am o.k. and I would never want someone reading something on my blog to have to worry about that as well. 

Did ya'll know that May is Mental Health Month?

Mental health advocacy is something that is extremely important to me. I know I have talked about it a bit here on the blog but haven't really dove into it for a number of reasons, mainly being the fact that it is becoming increasingly harder to talk about. I've been accused of being extremely detached or cold when friends, family, acquaintances try to talk about to me about (heavy) things but I have to be. It's a coping mechanism. I "allowed" myself to let it in, allowed myself to always feel something when someone needs a shoulder to cry on, it would break me. And trying to explain to someone that you are protecting yourself rather than them in their time of need, is a really difficult thing.

I was first "officially" diagnosed with an anxiety disorder when I was twelve, although I remember having my first panic and anxiety attacks as well of thoughts of self harm and suicide when I was much younger. Through my teens and into young adulthood I struggled with those same thoughts, but on a much scarier level. Even now, as a thirtysomething who has (mostly) come to identify her triggers, worked out a plan that brings me back from the edge when I need it, it is still a daily struggle.

There are days when it takes all my strength to get myself just to roll out of bed. I fight anxiety and panic attacks almost daily. I am constantly fighting against the voices in my head telling me I am worthless, unlovable and that everyone would be better off without me. And unfortunately I still, without really knowing how I got there, will find myself on the bathroom floor, sobbing uncontrollably fighting the urge to do something to myself.

These feelings don't just "go away" because my therapist thinks I'm doing wonderfully or because my doctor has given me the o.k. to reduce my meds to see how I do without them. Despite being told by friends and family, "You are the one choosing to be happy or sad" or "It's your choice if you are depressed", I don't get to wake up in the morning and say to myself "Today, I'm not going to be depressed anymore!" and have it all go away. There isn't a switch that gets turned on and off on a whim. This is something that will linger for the rest of my life and something that I will have to live and work through for many many years to come.

A few weeks ago, Jes shared on her blog the things she is able to do when Shit Days Happen which was a post that couldn't have been shared at a more perfect time for me. As I said the other day, things have been a little rough around here. I've found myself dealing with with some intense anxiety attacks and depression even if I didn't realize that is what it truly was until last weekend.

Reading Jes' post reminded me that I too had a list of things that I could do to help pull me away from the edge. I don't remember writing the list (I'm sure it's an exercise I had been given at some point from a therapist) but it's been with me for a long time. And even though some of the things on "the list" are no-brainers, sometimes when you're that close to the edge, you need a little reminder, a nudge back to the person you really are.

I thought, in the spirit of sharing and help and for Mental Health Month that I too would share my list. These are the things, as simple as they may seem, that I have come to rely on when I need a little extra help from myself:

• Write: Sometimes you have to get the funk out. Talking doesn't always work for me, so putting the thoughts down in a journal or on paper (and burning the paper at a later day) is one of the best ways to cleanse myself.
• Listen to music: I tend to listen to music that fits my mood when I'm struggling. I think it goes back to the whole idea that songs can give voices to emotions we are otherwise unable to express.
• Run or go for a walk: Getting outside and enjoying the fresh air is so important for me. Even sitting under a tree and listening to the sounds around me can put me at ease. Side note: I am sure on of my previous therapists would be doing cartwheels if she read this. I don't know why, but I fought against doing this for years, but now that I am older and wise have come to realize that of all the things on the list, this has been the most helpful thing that I am able to do for myself. 
• Meditate: See above.
• Create something: Focusing on art or making something (I tend to bake, a lot, when I'm stressed) refocuses me enough to be able to start to put things in perspective. 

The list isn't terribly long or involved, but those five things, sometimes on their own or combined, are enough to calm my bad days. They don't fix them, but they help me deal with them.

How do you handle/cope with bad days?

A Fresh Start

Things have been really quiet around these parts lately and as much as I'd like to say that is changing, I can make no promises.

But it's a new month which means a new start!

This spring has been kind of rough all the way around. Between work and family and some personal things, on just about any given day you could have asked me what would make me feel better and I would have said a remote control with a fast forward button. But as they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger or in this case, what doesn't break you makes you stronger.

Life is full of ups and downs and challenges around every corner. But I am looking forward to the upcoming month with an open mind and an open heart. 

Boston

I've gone back and forth with myself as to whether or no I should post the following--a lot of is feels like a bunch of incoherent rambling and to be honest, it feels a bit strange to be writing about something so far away and disconnected with.

Like a lot of people, I've had Boston on my mind all day, trying to make sense of a senseless act. While I don't know anyone directly involved in what happened, my heart still aches for the city and those effected in yesterdays events.

The Boston Marathon has always been this weird, intangible running goal. I know you aren't supposed to say "never", but its one of those things I know I will most likely never participate in but still something I have on my bucket list. The best I could ever hope for is to be there to watch as people run across the finish line.

I've followed the marathon from afar the last few years and had just sat down to do so yesterday when the first bomb exploded. I wanted desperately for it to be an accident--for it to be a mistake, but then the second bomb exploded and I knew it wasn't. As I watched the news reports come in it was hard to not be overwhelmed by the images of those wounded. But what struck me most were the images of those running towards the explosion area to help those who had been injured. In a time of chaos and destruction, compassion and strength came through.

It's been in the media a lot, but the post Patton Oswald but on his Facebook page yesterday said it perfectly:

Boston. Fucking horrible. 

I remember, when 9/11 went down, my reaction was, "Well, I've had it with humanity."

But I was wrong. I don't know what's going to be revealed to be behind all of this mayhem. One human insect or a poisonous mass of broken sociopaths. 

But here's what I DO know. If it's one person or a HUNDRED people, that number is not even a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a percent of the population on this planet. You watch the videos of the carnage and there are people running TOWARDS the destruction to help out. (Thanks FAKE Gallery founder and owner Paul Kozlowski for pointing this out to me). This is a giant planet and we're lucky to live on it but there are prices and penalties incurred for the daily miracle of existence. One of them is, every once in awhile, the wiring of a tiny sliver of the species gets snarled and they're pointed towards darkness. 

But the vast majority stands against that darkness and, like white blood cells attacking a virus, they dilute and weaken and eventually wash away the evil doers and, more importantly, the damage they wreak. This is beyond religion or creed or nation. We would not be here if humanity were inherently evil. We'd have eaten ourselves alive long ago. 

So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, "The good outnumber you, and we always will."

No matter how traumatic or tragic or senseless an act is, the good will always overcome the bad, even if it seems to take twice as long.

Today I wore Boston Marathon colors to work today in honor of the victims of yesterdays tragedy. And when my doctor gives me the all-clear, I'll sign myself up for a race (or two maybe!) to run for Boston. It seems like a small thing, but the quote below puts in perspective (at least for me it does) what running can really be about--not just about an individual runner, but a whole community of runners.


"It's the only sport in the world where if a competitor falls, the others around will pick him or her up. It's the only sport in the world open to absolutely everyone, regardless of gender, age, ethnicity or any other division you can think of. It's the only occasion when thousands of people assemble, often in a major city, for a reason that is totally peaceful, healthy and well-meaning. It's the only sport in the world where no one ever boos anybody."--Runners World on the sport of running.

F. A. T.

I'm usually not one to throw up any kind of disclaimer with my posts, but this one kind of feels like it needs one. Not because of anything bad. I respect my readers enough to keep my language in check (seriously, I have a mouth like a sailor--I don't just put a nickle or a dime in the swear jar at work, oh no, it's dollars and quarters). This gets a disclaimer because it was really hard to write and at times a little off course, but it was important for me to get as much out of me as possible with as little editing as possible. At times it might seem off topic and not make much sense, but as I've said before, that is kind of how my brain works.  

I am a huge fan of words (which is why I write---obviously!) but an even bigger fan of not letting them get to me. Because honestly, they can't do anything. They are just letters strung together into a coherent sound or noise we can all understand.

Right?

Over the years I've been called crazy, obnoxious, annoying. a whore, slut and bitch, heartless, mean, ugly, disgusting, a drama queen (side note--of all the words or terms used to describe me, this is the one my friends and I find quite entertaining and most of them have asked if the people who have said this about me have actually spent time with me), worthless, dumb.....I could go on, but I think you get the point.

Most of the time I'm pretty good at letting them roll off me. A friend once told me "you just have to be like teflon and let things slide right off you". I've carried that advice around with me for many many years and it works. Cheesy, but hearing those words in my head remind me that it doesn't really matter what they say. I know who I am and what I am about. I know my truth. And if someone can't (or won't) see that, it's not my issue.

But there is one word. One little adjective I can't shake. One word made of three relatively innocent letters that when put together can bring me to tears almost each and every time I hear it pass between someones lips......



Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat.

I hate it. But you know what I hate even more than the word itself? I hate that I let it get to me.

The other words, while they may initially sting, are a little easier to take--easier to deflect. Why? Because like I said. I know who I am. And I know they aren't true. O.k. so maybe I can be a little bitchy sometimes, but I digress.

But fat.....that's a whole other ballgame. That can be measured by my weight. What size dress I wear. Or by my pant size or anytime you compare me with the Hollywood standard, I am fat (for the record, that is the first time I have written that in an sentence, it's a little terrifying). It can be pointed out when my hips are just a little to wide for a slim cut pant or a top is cut scandalously low for my large breasts. It doesn't matter that I'm learning to live in the body I've been given or that there are days when I look in the mirror and think "Dang....I'm lookin' pretty good!" when that word is hanging above my head like a dark cloud.

Me and the dress!

Last week I wrote about Five Things I was going to do to make myself happy. And one of those things was to "wear bright colors" which really translates into "wear something outside of your comfort zone". So this week I did. I put on a dress that was two sized smaller than I am used to wearing. And it was all stripes. Black and white stripes. Lots and lots of stripes. Once I got used to the fact that I wasn't wearing something baggy and that it wasn't hiding anything, I loved it. I honestly loved the way it fit but more importantly I loved the way I felt in it. As I stood in front of the mirror looking at me looking back at myself, I was reminded how good it feels to be me. Not some preconceived notion of how I think I should be, but just myself. I remembered how refreshing it was to be at peace with not only myself but also my body that was made especially for me, even if others consider it (it being my body, not me) fat.

I wonder sometimes if I'll ever be able to see or hear the word fat and not cringe. I wonder sometimes if it holds too much negativity and hatred for myself to ever really be free of it. I do hope that someday it will just become another word. Or will in fact become a word that I am able to embrace as just another in the long list of adjectives that I can use to describe myself without all the negative energy tacked onto it.

Until then, F.A.T. will just be another acronym for all the other beautiful words out there to describe myself and others: fabulous, artistic  tender, friendly, amazing, tenacious, fierce, affectionate, terrific, funny, attentive, thoughtful, faithful, altruistic, tolerant, foxy, awesome, talented, fantastic, alluring, trustworthy, free, astounding, truthful.

Five Things

Back in December, Jes over at The Militant Baker posted about a series she wanted to start called "This One Thing I Really Love About my Body" and was looking for submissions.

I loved the idea from the first moment I read about it. I mean seriously....a series of thought from ladies about what we LOVE about our bodies, beautiful! An amazing exercise in focusing on the positives without any of the "I love this but it would be better if I could change that". And for me putting it down on paper (virtual or real) to share with others made it feel like it wasn't some empty promise or statement I was making to myself. It felt a little more substantial. Like I'm not just saying it to say it, but saying it because I meant it (not that I didn't mean it before, but you know.....accountability is always nice).

So I sat down to write my submission and I stared a the blank notebook sitting in front of me. I picked up my pen. Stared a little bit more. Doodled in the margins. Thought about it. Stared some more. Rolled the idea around in my head. Wasted some time on Pinterest and Ravelry. Thought about it. Scanned myself from head to toe.

Then I lost it. Full on sobbing and crying--the ugly, face scrunched up and red, snot magically appearing out of nowhere and mascara forming the most awesome tear induced raccoon eyes anyone has ever seen. I cried until it hurt because loving any part of myself at that time was the furthest thing from the truth. And even thinking about trying to find something I loved.....heck, even liked about myself made me feel like a fraud so I set the pen and notebook aside and walked away.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago.......

Rachele over at The Nearsighted Owl posted about an ecourse she was putting together which was kind of perfect for how I've been feeling. A course to get me back on track to not only getting back to who I am, but to feel good about who I am. I immediately signed myself up (ok.....so I signed up twice because my computer was being really wonky) and set to work on the first assignment:

Write down 5 things that you are going to do that make you happy

 

Wear Bright Colors: My wardrobe is packed full of black, black and more black which is a holdover from lessons on fashion I received growing up. Black is sliming. Everyone can wear black. Once you are larger than a certain size you want to shy away from bright, bold colors because you wouldn't want to draw attention to yourself. Riiiiiiiiight.....it's time to toss those "rules" out the door and which involves picking up a sassy little yellow dress I tried on last weekend.

Dance Like No One Is Watching: Have you every dance and not smiled or laughed? No, didn't think so. I need to do more of this. 

Take Myself To The Movie: a.k.a. date night with myself. 

Create and Write More for Myself: It's time to stop worrying about whether or not people like what I have to say or what I do or blah blah blah. I need to start working on some more things just for me. 

Read More Ridiculous Books: My reading list is full of really heavy books. I need to make sure I threw is some a lot more books that don't require a lot of thinking on the part of the reader. Reading should be fun! I need to add more fun into that pile. 

Looking Forward

I tried to write one, but ultimately decided against a "year in review" post to wrap up 2012 here on Miles from Ordinary.

As you may have noticed, things have been a bit quite around these parts the last 2 months or so. Things haven't been great (it's been Stressville around here for much too long) and  looking back on all the wonderful things that did happen over the last year didn't feel genuine. My heart wasn't in it. It all felt a little forced.

Instead, I thought I'd look to the future. Focus on looking ahead to 2013 with an open heart and mind.

The Original 2013 List

I already posted my List of Suggestions: 2013 Edition non-resolutions for the upcoming year which came from a slightly longer list. One that took on a life of its own after I got past some of the "less personal" items.

2012 was the start of a new path. A new journey. A year of personal growth which contributed to so many of those up and even a few of those downs I went through this last year. I found new joys and started new friendships/relationships with others (near and far) which helped push me along my path. But I also let go of those things and even people who didn't support me and were standing (figuratively of course) in my way. 

I'd like 2013 to be more of the same.

I'd like 2013 to be a year where I continue to learn about who I am. I'd like it to be a year where I continue to discover what I love about this crazy life/world we all share. I'd like it to be a year where I learn to to embrace what I have, who I am, what I share with friends/family and let go of the longing for the life I don't/can't/won't have. 

You can't have the good without the bad.

You can't get to love and acceptance without going through a little hurt and disappointment.

You have to be open to it all to get to what you need. 

May this New Year bring you unexpected joys, undeniable happiness, and unending compassion!

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Honest to Blog is a series where I let my pen glide across the paper without letting my inner editor know what is going on. Some posts might be controversial. Some might be a bit boring and some might be downright ridiculous. But they will all be open, honest and 100% me.

Relish 12: Your Mountain & New Beginnings

I started writing today as if I was writing two separate posts, but quickly realized these two things go together. For me, they are are one and the same which is why I have combined them into one.

Relish12 Day One: Your Mountain
We all face challenges during the year; some we meet, some we don’t. What was your mountain to climb this year? Did you reach the top?

Relish12 Day Nine: New Beginnings…
The only constant in this life is change. That’s it. Change can come in all forms; some brilliant, some downright painful. We grow each and every time we navigate change, exposing more strength, wisdom, and courage the deeper we let it do it’s work within us. Some change comes as an ending, some as a fresh start to something totally different. What was one new thing that started for you this year? What was one new beginning in your life?

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I didn't really start the year off with any "goals" in mind or anything I wanted to "work on". I have a huge fear of commitment thus am not big of making New Year Resolutions (although I did make a list of suggestions for myself this year). Besides, coming into 2012 I was pretty happy with where things were  at with my life and where things were going.  Why change it if it's not broken, right?

But as they do, things changed.

Through a series of life events, stumbling across a number of amazing bloggers and their strength and words (knowing, even if you've never met them, that someone somewhere is feeling or has felt the same way as you are feeling can be a powerful force), something inside of me started churning. I began to realize something anything needed to give. Because if I was really being honest with myself, I was miserable. I didn't like the person I had become. Something needed to change or I would always feel like I was waiting for the "other shoe to drop". I would continue to carry this intense sense of unease around with me everywhere I went and with everything I did. I had grown so accustom to it being there, to feeling that heavy weight with me all the time, I started to forget about it. Forget that it was there. Forget that it didn't need to be there and coming to that realization scared me.

I started to really pay attention to how I reacted (or didn't react) to things going on around me. How I dealt with friends, family, work, relationships, etc. I started to really pay attention to the life I was living and working towards living the life I wanted to live. I began working on figuring out why and what it was that kept me from moving forward.

I've always jokingly said I was my own worst enemy and the more I looked at things from a fresh perspective, the more I began to realize that it wasn't a joke and that this immense wall of "protection" I had thrown up around myself was doing anything but protecting me. It was in fact doing just the opposite. What I thought had been put in place to keep out the "bad", the things I couldn't control, was in fact keeping out everything.

It is easier to simply step aside than to take a step forward. It is easier to simply act like it doesn't exist than having to admit that you are afraid.

But easy isn't always better and making a conscious decision to start facing the mountain fears head on has, for a lack of a better term been excruciating. I've started peeling away layers I've built to hide demons from the past. I have listened to my instincts and distanced myself and/or ended relationships with friends that didn't serve me in a positive way. I started a new journey of self-acceptance and truth that others have found difficult to understand and accept, but know that even at what seems to be an age where I should have figured "it" out already, that it's not about when you started, but that you did start.

Honest to Blog: Dealing with an End

There is no way around it.....

It sucks when relationships end.

Whether they are new or old, intense or barely scratch the surface, romantic or friendships, calling something quits is the pits.

For the couple of weeks or so, I have been begrudgingly coming to terms with the end of a relationship. A relationship that I really enjoyed, one that I wish had more life left to it. But also one, that I knew wasn't going to be for the long term.

Does that ever happen to you? You meet someone, totally dig them and think "This is awesome!" but know in your gut it's pretty superficial? You know right away that it has an expiration date that coming up fast?

The further away I am from having last seen/spoken with said person, the sadder it makes me. The more I miss them and spending time with them.

The more time that passes, the more I am second guessing myself because that's what I do. I wonder what I did or said that was wrong. I wonder if I should have done something differently or made more of an effort or not made an effort at all.

But I know all the above is ridiculous. Sometimes, this is just how things so. Not everything works out like we want it to. Not everything ends up being what we thought it was. People come and go in our lives all the time. They pop in and out and sometimes, it we're lucky they stay long enough to teach us something. And although short, this person was of the latter category--the category that allows others to learn and grow and come up a better person on the other end.

I'm still sorting it all out. Sorting through the feelings of sadness, frustration but more intensely disappointment.

But in the end, as ridiculous as it sounds, I know I will end up being grateful. Grateful for the time I was able to spend with this person, rediscovering a part of myself that doesn't get to come out and shine very often and figuring out how to let that part of myself out more often.

Honest to Blog is a series where I let my pen glide across the paper without letting my inner editor know what is going on. Some posts might be controversial. Some might be a bit boring and some might be downright ridiculous. But they will all be open, honest and 100% me.

Honest to Blog: Confessions of a Shy Girl

On the surface, this was supposed to be something really easy to write about. I had this really great idea in my head about how this was going to go, but when I put it on paper (like I do, pen to paper--my favorite way to work out a post) it all fell apart.

I am painfully extremely shy.

Always have been.

Always will be.

And most of the time, I kind of hate it.

I am an observer by nature. It is one of the many reasons I gravitated to my camera and photography. I love watching the world around me and the people moving within it and how people and things interact with one another.

It has also given me my voice when it comes to writing. It has allowed me the freedom to put onto paper what I'm unable to actually say. I don't quite understand why, but I am much more comfortable putting in a letter or a note what I want to say to someone instead of having to speak it. This is one of the reasons I have my blog.....by writing, I'm able to to "say" here what I can't speak anywhere else.

But it keeps me on the outside looking in. It keeps me from (directly) interacting with my world around me. It keeps me isolated and can be extremely lonely.

For quite a long time and even recently, I would have given just about anything to change that about myself. To be able to set aside all the anxiety that comes with being so shy would be (I thought) a revelation of epic proportions. I'd be able to join in conversations I'd previous stayed away from for whatever excuse I used to talk myself out of. I would have been able to tell someone how I felt rather than having to send it in a text or never sending it all. I wouldn't feel trepidation every time someone suggested something even just the tiniest bit outside of my comfort zone.

Like so many things though, changing this part of myself would simply change who I am. Yes it has made making strides in my career more difficult (every time I head off to do a training I have to fight off a panic attack). Yes I miss out on things I am quite certain I would otherwise enjoy. And yes it makes forming relationships extremely difficult.  But I also know that when I make a decision about something anything it's the right one for me even if I've over-thought it within an inch of its life. And missed moments? Everyone has them and some I would have missed even if I tried jumping in feet first with my eyes closed. Sure, I don't make friends easily so I know the ones I have and the relationships I have formed are solid and true--they are with amazing people who I know I can trust and have my back when I need them (and vice versa). And missing out on more serious, personal relationships....well, I'm still working on that but I think we're really all just a work in progress when it comes down to it.


Honest to Blog is a series where I let my pen glide across the paper without letting my inner editor know what is going on. Some posts might be controversial. Some might be a bit boring and some might be downright ridiculous. But they will all be open, honest and 100% me.

Honest to Blog: Womb for Rent

I'm at a stage in my life where I am watching my friends get married. Starting families of their own and welcoming bundles of baby joy into their worlds.

I should be happy for them. I should be excited that they are taking this next stop in their lives. Thrilled that their dreams are coming true.

But I'm not.

Not entirely.

Yes--I think it is absolutely amazing to be able to watch my friends start families. To be there to watch them raise amazing little people who will grow up to do amazing things.

But each time I receive another invitation to a baby shower. Or see a delighted "this morning we welcomed baby D into the world last night!" post on Facebook. Or am stopped by a coworker and asked "Guess what? I'm pregnant!" before I can even answer the initial question, a massive wave of jealousy and loss rips through my heart.

Jealousy because they have what I want. They are moving into a phase of their lives where I so desperately want to be.

Loss because of the children I may never know. Loss at that fear that I have all this love to give and may never have the chance to bestow it on a child who decides to choose me as their mom.

Time and time again I am told by friends and family that there is still time. I'm young. There is time for me to find the man (or woman) I will fall in love with and start a family with because that's how it's supposed to happen.

What isn't supposed to happen is that at 22 your doctor telling you there is something wrong with you and you might not be able to have children. What isn't supposed to happen is at 25 the specialist your doctor sent you to tells you there is a slight change (like a 10% chance) that you'll be able to have kids (I've always appreciated her honesty and optimism) or at 28 you are told that it's time to start looking at other options.

I know I'm not the only one going through these struggles. I'm not the first to be delivered that kind of news and I won't be the last but when you're in it alone, it feels like you are the only one in the world it is happening to.

When your friends get mad at you because you "just aren't happy enough for them" or can't get beyond the lump in your throat to tell them "Congratulations!" quick enough, it just adds to the pain. Adds to the betrayal of your body. Adds to the feeling of failure because as a woman, this is what our bodies are designed to do--to carry, love and nurture growing children.

I know there are options out there to becoming a mom. Lots of them actually. And I've started looking at them.  I know it makes me sound horribly selfish, but there is a huge part of me that wants to have my baby. A huge part of me that wants to raise a child that was born between the love of me and my partner. I worry that I'm not strong enough to do it any other way, but also know if I want to be a parent, I need to find that strength.