When to Stop Fighting

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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.

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**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…

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Fear and Lies

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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.

Who holds your umbrella during the shit storm?

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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

 

Two Word Advice

Do y’all know Robin Sharma? Crazy popular author in the self help world… like.. millions of books sold.  I mostly like what he does. I found this on pinterest so, it may not be the most accurate (I’m honestly kinda guessing at his bit, to help me get to mine…).  I think he was asked, or decided, to offer his best 2 word advice.  And he said “Start now”.  How freaking powerful right?  Don’t wait til Monday to start that diet.  Don’t wait til summer to take a vacation.  Don’t wait for the scale to show a certain number before you love yourself.  Whatever it may be… start now.  I love that.

But.. I have my own thoughts. (I know y’all will find that hard to believe…)

So, my 2 word advice is “Show up”.

Just… show up.  Just be there. Be present.

I had an incident with a semi-friend. He was performing and it was lackluster as fuck. Not because he’s bad.  He’s actually pretty freaking brilliant. And good looking. And crazy fucking talented. But his head and his heart weren’t there. He started. He played a whole set. But he didn’t show up for it. It was a day or two after his show that I saw a quote, “Show up, even when no one applauds.”  Yes. So much yes.  Clap for yourself, that’s okay. But show up.

I was out the other night and a pal of mine was just sour. Pissy. Moody. Brooding. I went over. “Anything I can do? Want to talk? Let me rub your shoulders..” And he was having none of it. I’m not easily deterred though so I sat there beside him. Didn’t say anything. Pretty sure I was messing around on my phone. I made a point of having physical contact with him. Nothing over the top or aggressive, just my knee touching his under the table. And we sat like that.  Other people came up, tried to talk to him, tried to make him better. They started now. They were active in their pursuit. I simply showed up, and I stayed. I got a message from him hours later thanking me for being there. I literally did nothing. I just was present. He didn’t feel obligated to say anything, or explain or problem solve or… he was able to sit, have support and just be.

While I’m glad I was able to comfort my friend, I selfishly am so glad I was able to learn from that. I’m a fixer. Bad day? Let me buy you food or drink or give you a hug or pull a tarot card or…  I will come up with a million things I can start doing to “help” you.  And sometimes that works. Sometimes we do need to take more active steps. But sometimes it’s the more quiet, almost passive, things; sometimes it’s the simply showing up and allowing the moment to be what it is, that does the most good.

And if “show up” or “start now” don’t work for you…

Fuck it.

 

Bad Male Behavior

Guys. Woof.  Please note, I realize I’m gonna be making sweeping generalizations about an entire gender. I get it. I do know so many amazing, kind, respectful, courteous, sweet guys. (I’ll get more into that soon). So, when I’m saying, “men do blah blah blah…” I know not every guy. Disclaimer done.

So, guys…. woof…. in the past week, but amping up considerably in the past 48 hours, the amount of bad male behavior I’ve experienced is… yuck. Between a “friend” basically assuming I would literally whore myself out to him for some drinks, to the 5 pounds I’ve gained being really uncomfortably thoroughly discussed in the middle of the hallway here at the office just… so.much.yuck.

And this behavior was so bad that I then, I guess out of… seeking balance or something, I started sending “thank you” messages to guys who are my actual friends, who don’t do those kinds of things. I say thank you a lot. I believe gratitude is such an amazing thing, so I really try to always be expressing my appreciation. But I was talking to my girl at work (  hey girl hey! =)  ) about it and she flat out said, “Uh, you shouldn’t have to thank guys for being decent human beings.” OH SHIT Y’ALL, she’s fucking right. And it was such a simple statement but… crap. Like.. here I am singing the praises of men who are just behaving like they should, when I instead maybe need to re-focus on educating men who behave the other way.  I don’t think I can change the world. Honestly, I don’t even think I can change anyones mind. But I do think there is something wicked powerful about empowering myself to the point where I can stand up and say, “Don’t talk to me, or about me, that way.”  Best case scenario, maybe I do make a man (or woman, if she’s behaving incorrectly, bad behavior does exist both ways, I just personally felt it more from men recently) stop and think, and maybe next time he doesn’t comment on a persons body, or proposition her or..  Worst case scenario that person doesn’t give a fuck but I still get better at standing firm in my self respect, and self love, by honoring myself, which is still a pretty fucking kick ass scenario so…

Don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself.  I sadly didn’t in those two instances and it kind of wrecked my mood for a while. I did however address some… things another friend had done that made me uncomfortable, and I got what I believe to be a genuine apology and a chance for he and I to become better friends for having worked through the misunderstanding. I’d rather be known as the woman who didn’t take shit from anyone, even if it made the other person uncomfortable (note: not preaching being an unreasonably aggressive bitch here, this isn’t about being combative, repaying bad behavior with more bad behavior is super counter productive), than the woman who allowed others to rob her of power, by allowing others to make comments that ruin entire days.

Don’t offer to buy drinks for sexual favors. Don’t comment on somebody elses body. Don’t tolerate anyone doing either of those things to you. Be strong, be proud, behave.

To Offend or Not to Offend…

 

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Photo by Designecologist on Pexels.com

 

I started writing a post a few weeks back and.. it’s still saved to drafts, along with half a dozen other abandoned ideas but there is a difference.  Normally if I don’t flesh out a post, if it ends up in the “saved drafts” graveyard, it’s because I don’t feel like there is enough there, or I can’t figure out how to say it, or I am unclear on what I want to say.  But this one, I stopped because I could not figure out a way to present the thoughts without being just… horribly offensive.

And I don’t want to do that. But now that I’ve been sitting on it for a few weeks, I’ve been re-pondering and like… do I care if I’m offensive?  Why do I care?  I mean, I love y’all, please know that. I’m a fucking nobody, spouting nonsense on the internet so, if you take even 3 minutes out of your day to read any of this, you are a super star to me. But.. I don’t know you. I will probably never meet you.  If you think I’m being a royal cunt in one of my posts, will it actually affect either of us?  Probably not. It’s not that I’m not already offensive, I mean, I did just use the word cunt, I’ve blipped over anal sex, edible panties, like.. this is not a G-rated blog, g-string maybe, but certainly not g-rated.

But.. maybe it was the topic. I wanted to dive into comments my friend makes about “skinny bitches”, and I wanted to contrast that against if someone made a similar comment about a “fat bitch” and sort of why one is more acceptable than the other and talk about body types, and why we shouldn’t talk about them, and body shaming and self love and all the things.  But in breaking it down, in pulling those buckets of words up from the well of my brain, it just… it didn’t work.  I mean I do still want to tackle some of those thoughts, eventually. But the more I wrote, the more and more kind of awful and offensive it became so I stopped.

And I hate the idea of editing myself so as to not offend. If you’re that easily ticked off, you probably shouldn’t be here. And I believe in free speech. And I celebrate differences of opinions. But… the post goes unpublished still. I’m not even sure who I’m afraid I’ll offend. The two guys I matched with on Tinder? I just… I don’t know. I try to not be abrasive, but at the same time, sometimes things have to be sanded down a bit, you know? So, do I want my blog to be sandpaper? No. But do I want to feel like I can’t say something because it might hurt feelings?  No. Maybe I want to be like ultra fine grit sandpaper, which “is one of the most delicate abrasives”, per doityourself.com. (Yes, I did research sandpaper. Leave me alone. This is how I end up with a bizarrely broad knowledge base.)

I think I’d feel okay rubbing you the wrong way, if I did it delicately. Which sounds kinda dirty, but gentle, so I’ll let it stand.

You tell me to relax
And listen to these facts
That everyone’s my friend
And will be till the end
But know this much is true
No matter what I do
No matter what I say
Offend in every way
  ~White Stripes