One of my jobs is at a tattoo shop. It’s pretty great. If you’re in Ohio, hit me up, come in and see us! Anyway.. so one of my guys just told a 17 year old girl, getting her first tattoo, “It’s permanent, in that it’s always there, but it’s not permanent in that it will always look the same.” And I was instantly hit by how much that kind of mirrors love for me. (He was getting at things like stretching, fading, just generally aging of the skin, by the way) But yeah. I think of like… my first serious boyfriend, 15 years ago, when I was 19 (god damn I’m old!) and… we’re not together, we barely talk.. just life happened and is still actively happening for both of us so… but I still do have love for him. I always will. Is it that bold, bright, crazy, die for you, passionate love? No. But if he ever needed someone to talk to, I’d freakin be there, ya know? Because while the specifics of love change, the look of the love is not permanent, the actual love is permanent. Once you hit me on that soul level, you reside there, in some capacity like.. straight up, legit, for life. You tattoo me. Just a lightning bolt thought that hit me. Haven’t written in ages. Another love of mine mentioned I hadn’t posted in a while so… things are good, love is life, be kind to each other.
So recently like a bajillion randos have friended me on Facebook, whatever. Most never say anything, some wave or say hi… some though, some offer me pure joy of exchanges like this…
Happy Monday, y’all
Read the one below – When to Stop Fighting – before this one, for best continuity.
Sup? Life man… fuck. So, I talked about signs. And I mentioned like.. specific tracks/lines in songs on the new Chvches album (which is actually super solid, and I kinda feel bad for sayin eff it). And they seemed so fitting and so deep and there was such confirmation in them that like… the fact that the album is called “Love is Dead” completely passed me by. I am finding proof that I need to keep fighting for a boy in these songs on an album called Love.Is.Dead. Missing the forest for the trees, y’all.. that’s what happened. So, that was an interesting revelation today.
Also… I have an answer, kinda. It’s not about finding out when to stop fighting, it’s about figuring out what is ultimately worth fighting for. And it’s so dumb that this was like.. a lightning bolt idea to me but.. in the end, the only thing worth fighting for is you, yourself. (I understand family and loyalty and devotion, like none other, I assure you so that’s not what I’m saying here). I’m saying… a.) no one else is responsible for you; it’s great to have people that will help you, or look out for you, but.. they don’t have to, they chose to, recognize and appreciate that. b.) ultimately, you are not responsible for anyone else – again, I know you have kids or spouses or whatever, and yes, you should take care of them, but there is literally nothing physically stopping you from saying, “fuck this, fuck that, fuck them” and peacing the fucking out. So then in conclusion c.) only you are responsible for only you. Read it again, it makes sense, I promise 😉
So, I fucked things up with that boy, for sure. And I apologized. I made a mistake. I owned it. And now.. I’m okay. He can accept or reject my apology, and we can continue or stop, I’m kinda… letting him marinate for a bit. But… it’s kinda okay either way. I am responsible for me. I did my due diligence in righting the wrong, as much as possible. And now I need to get back to myself. I allow myself to be swept up and away with others, and my tether to my own core had gotten so warped and stretched that, in being there for everyone, I was nowhere for myself, and that’s some straight up nervous breakdown bullshit. I need to rein myself in. But I also need to reign myself in. I need to get a grip on myself, and also fully rule myself, I hold the leash on my life, myself, I control it.
I will be there for people, so long as it’s not harmful to me. That is going to be a change for me. I’ve always liked the quote, “Don’t set yourself on fire just to keep others warm.” But I’ve always lived, “Pour more gasoline on me and break out the s’mores.” And it’s only this morning that I am finally rising up from those ashes. I will not be small for anyone else’s comfort. You’re either on board, or you’re doggy paddling solo, I’m no longer stopping my fucking carnival cruise ship to send out a lifeboat for anyone. I can’t. Making all those stops and detours.. I’m never gonna get to my destination. Only you are responsible for only you. When I’m frustrated or on my death bed or whatever scenario we want to play out, I can blame whoever, but it’s fake. “Well, if this boy hadn’t….” “If that co-worker had…” No. Me. If I hadn’t. If I had. Make better choice. Rein yourself in. Live loudly and vibrantly and bizarrely, but keep yourself securely tethered to your own desires and ambitions. Reign yourself in. Own it. Everything. Good, bad, all the grey in between. And learn to accept other people doing the same for themselves.
The song is “You gotta fight for YOUR right to party”, not “You gotta fight for everyone else’s right to party”. Just sayin. 🙂
Do y’all believe in fate? Or synchronicity (not the amazing album by the Police, I assume everyone here believes in that)? If things are… aligned, should they feel effortless? I don’t know if anything in my life really has had that, not fully. I am lucky as all fuckabout, but I’ve also hustled my full ass off, time and time again.
I think certain aspects of things have been effortless. I connect very quickly, very easily. People allow me access to them, in ways I still don’t fully understand. But then after that easy part, I’m always kind of left with a.. “now what” sort of moment, with like… literally everyone in my life, ever. And that’s what I need to dissect for a sec. Like… the first round of interactions are riding a bicycle downhill, it’s coasting, it’s easy breezy lemon squeezy. And then… then it’s uphill, and I have to peddle. How long it takes to get to that part differs, the angle of the hill changes too; people I’m… less tangled in, they are like.. oh, exert a little more effort, we’re at a 10 degree angle, sustainable for a good long while, potentially. But with some people, some of the most important people to me, it’s like… an 80 degree angle, and every single pump of my legs takes damn near everything out of me, and even with exerting every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears, I am barely making progress. So.. at what point do I say fuck it, stop peddling, and allow myself to slide back? Does that exist? When does it go from an uphill bike ride to me just actually killing myself for a view of a landfill? When is the fight not worth it? When do I go from being strong, to being stupid?
I’m scrappy. I’m a fighter. I’m tough, you know? Defeat is not my natural state, at all. Bury me and I will bloom. I’m a fucking weeble wobble, ya know? I might momentarily touch down, but I’m popping right the fuck back up.
**Total moment happening as I type… a song called “Never Say Die” is playing on my phone… what? See, it’s that… it’s those fucking moments. I want to quit. I want to throw my hands up. And a song called NEVER.SAY.DIE is playing. I hate signs. I don’t even know if I believe in them. I know it’s stupid easy to read into shit and extrapolate and.. I get it. I do. But… sometimes it just feels like the universe is kicking me in my girl balls, like… shouting through a megaphone that I need to pay attention. (song currently playing has a line in the chorus, “But I will stop at nothing, No, I will stop at nothing now” … are you freaking kidding me? Eff the new CHVRCHES album, seriously.)
I write to help myself. This is my therapy. And I really try to come to a conclusion. I try to like.. firm up the thoughts, but this topic is just… fucking jello. I am just so… flummoxed by this one, guys. (I have maybe been waiting my entire life to be able to slide that word in somewhere, and holy shit, I’m so happy that it’s in this post). I imagine this concept will pop up again. Let me see how things play out, maybe I’ll be writing a huge expose on how “fuck fate” next time, who knows? How do I learn to make my own signs? That’s an interesting thought… spray paint, maybe…
What are you afraid of? The boogeyman? Snakes? Being vulnerable? I’ve been thinking lots of thoughts, and feeling lots of things (I prefer the thoughts, honestly). And how honest are we really? When you talk to others, but more importantly, how honest are you when you talk to yourself?
I think about things that would have paralyzed me, even just a year ago, getting up on a stage and singing an inappropriate song, while grinding on someone, in front of crowd, for instance. And while I don’t want to say that’s normal now.. it’s for sure no longer scary. And I’m not sure when that switch happened. I think it was gradual, but I wonder if it should have been. I talk to my friends all the time about taking baby steps. But like.. fuckin hell, I want to just dive head first from now on. Yoda said, “Do, or do not, there is no try.” Yes. As I get older and busier and… fear and worry and doubt are just too time consuming and energy draining. I could over analyze literally everything, and get mentally or emotionally stuck, or I could just fucking go with it, and see what happens. It’s so liberating to be able to say, “I don’t know, I’m not sure, I have no fucking clue, but I’m gonna do it anyway.” Having trust in the Universe, or Divine One, or the deity of your choice. I think trusting on that level is probably easier for religious people, just an aside.
I wonder when we lost our connection to our own authenticities. You know when a kid falls down, and scrapes their knee, and they cry and we tell them they are okay? Like.. is it that place where this faking it bullshit starts? Obviously that kid will live, they’ll be fine, but you know what, maybe their knee really fucking hurts, and maybe they should be allowed to feel that and cry about it. Let’s not teach people to suppress, to hide, to fake. Have you ever met a blazingly honest person? It’s terrifying as fuck, y’all. That shit will leave you fucking shook to your core. And how messed up is that? We are way more comfortable with the fake. With the Splenda version of people. Let’s remove all the calories, and present anemic versions of us that leave a bitter aftertaste. I know so many good, smart, talented, amazing people. And I’d say 90% of them have such little knowledge of their true selves, their power, their potential… self actualization is.. why aren’t we teaching that in school? Give me someone who is genuinely awkward over someone who is fake cool all day every day.
I think lies can be so comforting. And I think we make them the anti-dote to fear pretty often. I’m afraid I’ll get rejected, so I’ll lie to myself, talk myself out of pursuing it, that guy doesn’t deserve me anyway, or whatever it is, you know? How about, I’m afraid of rejection, but I’m gonna fucking do it anyway, because I have yet to hear about anyone dying from not having their invite for a date accepted? I am at a point where wounded pride is a quicker healing process than living in-authentically, where suffering through embarrassment is easier than deceiving and denying my own soul. I want to stop lying to myself, stop lying about myself, I want to overcome non-sense fears, life is too fucking short to be anything other than wonder-fully, gloriously, messily, you, in all the crazy, profound, silly truth that we should completely embrace and embody.
The next time I trip and fall and “scrape my knee” (get my heart broke, epically fail at my day.. etc.) I’m gonna fucking wail, and let it out, and people around me can help, or stare, or ignore, it doesn’t even matter, all that matters is having that moment, not suppressing, not hiding, reveling in whatever it is (please note, this absolutely includes good things too.. accomplishing a goal – Imma celebrate the fuck out of it, and again, people can join, or ignore, or stare, their reaction is none of my business). Less lies. More lucidity. Fewer fears. Increased fierceness… these are the goals, y’all.
Wanna freak people out? Thank them for being in your life.
I had a bloody awful morning. The waves of physical, mental and emotional exhaustion were sweeping my ass out to sea. It was bad. And… in that place, with the few gasps of air I could manage in between being pulled under, I was able to see people who are here for me.
I was sad about someone who wasn’t. And that’s dumb. No one is obligated to check on me, or care for me, or anything, even if I’ve done it for them, there is no law saying it has be reciprocal.
So, I sent a few messages to a handful of people (we’ll call them my umbrella holders), ranging from “thanks for being my friend”, “sorry I’ve been a shitty friend to you”, “thanks for checking on me”, nothing major or long to anyone. And I think people jumped to very bad conclusions, which is fucked up for a few reasons. Is gratitude so uncommon that when it is shown to us, we assume the worst?
I posted a while ago about uneven significance. Some of my umbrella holders are people I have never offered anything to, really. And they are still steadfast to me. And that’s not fair. It’s amazing. I’m deeply humbled by that. And I intend to try to do better by them, as much as I can. And the person I was sad about, I’ve not only offered him an umbrella but I fucking built him like.. a deluxe shelter house with free wi-fi when he was going through shit, and when I vocalized my shit storm, he was MIA. And that’s okay. I unfriended and blocked him as an act of self-care. It’s not always bubble baths and face masks and time in nature. Sometimes it’s… taking out the emotional trash, cleaning out stagnant, unhealthy energy. No drama, no hard feelings, just.. protecting my bubble. If people cut me out/off, I’d get it. You do you, boo, if that don’t involve me, no worries, light and love to you.
The most amazing thing is, I know, in my core, the people I reached out to, were truly just like.. a drop in my umbrella holder bucket. If I canvassed my social media, my coworkers, my landscape, asking for support, saying I need help, reaching out, I know, without a doubt, people would rise up, they’d open up their umbrellas and keep me dry during my shit storm. Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable. Let people surprise you. Good or bad. Either way, it’s a lesson, it’s a story, it’s a starting point for change and growth and improvement. And for the love of God/Goddess/Spirit, say thank you. Say it more often. Appreciate liberally. Love profoundly. Live openly… full assedly… 😉
“Now that it’s raining more than ever
Know that we still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella” Queen RiRi
“Thank you for being a friend
Traveled down a road and back again
Your heart is true, you’re a pal and a confidant” Golden Girls Theme Song
Do you ever do something you know you shouldn’t? Does knowing you shouldn’t sometimes make you want to do it even more? Why do we think the forbidden fruit will taste better, I wonder…