5 Years

It was 5 years ago today that I walked out on my life. I dove into the unknown without a safety net as the unhappiness was overtaking me. My first night alone I had to sleep on the couch since I didn't have a bed. I laid there with a thin blanket that didn't cover my feet and waited for the sun to rise again. I spent each night on my porch drinking a mock sangria I made from cheap wine and frozen raspberries, ate tortilla chips, and passing out in a lawn chair. I left everything behind as I didn't want my child to experience the pain of having a parent take half of everything. Fully starting over.

I'd love to tell you a sweet tale of how I spent a year working on me, learned to love myself, and found out who I really am. Then one beautiful morning I was taking my walk when this amazing handsome man ran by. His head turned as we went by each other and he smiled. Eventually we spoke and this turned into a whirlwind romance where he proposed to me in Aruba and married in a quaint church on a hill in Italy, surrounded by flowers and a sunset painted by the Gods. I am now so happy that everything happened the way it did and I wouldn't change a thing.

That would be quite a sweet tale.

My story is about mistakes, hard lessons, and heartbreak. Creating a great life but desperately longing for so much more. Of loneliness that blackened the already dark night. Shame that threatened to engulf me. But also moments of strength where I rose above when others thought I'd go under. Hitting a higher level, burning brighter, and finding my voice. I'm making it and have thrived beyond my own hopes.

I like to do intentions of releasing what no longer serves me during a New Moon. As it came up last week I felt a clear focus to burn everything up. Post it notes with positive words for me, writings of my hopes, letting go of people who don't need to be on my path with me. Interestingly enough things fell away on their own. Or was it me? It doesn't actually matter.

Of the things I can control I have created a spectacular life. I'm making it. Alone. Next month I will fly to my bucket list place, Greece, as I do exactly what I want. I had hopes of it looking differently, but as is my favorite mantra "this is how it is now". My cat and I live a life of peace and answer to no one.

And maybe, just maybe, this is perfect.

Cutting My Hair

Getting a haircut is considered to be basic life maintenance for most of us but it's actually daunting for me. I call it my "Sampson Complex". When I was growing up, and most specifically in my teenage years, I wasn't one of the pretty ones but I had great hair. I spend a lot of money creating new looks for my hair, keeping it up, as it still feels like that's all I've got in comparison to other women. I'm gagging at that statement, as I want to be supportive of other women and not in competition at all. Obviously this all comes from a place of deep insecurity that without my hair I'd be lost in the crowd and unseen. 

I used to have long hair and I loved it. Yet over the years, and with a massive amount of processing (damaging it to get the look I want), it's been getting shorter. I've tried growth treatments, potions and such and I can't manage to get the length back. While doing it yesterday I made peace, sort of, that I'm going to have to get more length cut off to regain the health and integrity of it. I spoke to my hairdresser, who I trust implicitly, and said, "I can't look like a dumpy old woman. I can't have it go curly and look like some freaked out caterpillar!" She of course assured me she'd never let this happen, yet I'm so scared I'm wiping tears at this moment.

I don't have a face for short hair. Long hair is how I can hide. Short hair is for the cute little ones who are called adorable and darling. Having great hair made me feel like so many flaws are hidden, though they really aren't. I was on a date recently with a guy I really liked and he made some reference to my body. It was mostly complimentary but I don't accept compliments well so I pointed out a few areas that in my mind needed work. He felt the best reply was to tell me I should call Sonobello (a local body contouring place). I crumbled internally but smiled and nodded at him so he wouldn't know. Roughly 16 years since my eating disorder diagnosis, about 80% recovered on a good day, but these kind of off handed statements can still take me out.

This all goes down tomorrow and I find I'm vacillating between terror of how old and bad I'll need to look as I get my hair healthy, and feeling like fuck everyone. Hormonal PMDD isn't helping matters. This is my weak link. I am strong, powerful, confident and ready to kick your ass, yet this can knock the wind out of me. 

Perhaps this is a necessary moment in my self growth. Taking away my perceived safety net to show who I really am. I fear it's not enough. I'm terrified my self worth won't survive this. 

Thankfully one of my best friends is a wig master so I do have a backup plan.

Reclaiming Autonomy

I watched a Netflix special recently called "Strip Down, Rise Up". The description goes "In an effort to reclaim their bodies and lives, a group of women explores the intersections of movement and meaning in a powerful pole dancing program." Barely 10 minutes in I found I was sobbing. I've watched is 3 times since and haven't been able to pinpoint what tore me up so quickly but watching has brought about more insight with each viewing.

Pre-pandemic I used to take pole dancing lessons. Any man I was dating, or potentially dating, would drool at the thought of getting a private show as their only experience with pole was from strip clubs. It was nothing like that. Far from it. One of the reviews, from a male in fact, said this, "What pole dancing is outside of the male gaze: body positivity, trauma recovery and reclaiming body and soul from toxic gender roles. Life-changing and very powerful." That's it.

When I started pole I had the vain assumption I would pick it up easily. I've been in dance, learn choreography decently fast, hyper flexible, and am strong. I sucked. I was truly bad on every level. But I admired the strength (clearly beyond mine) and the large variety of body types and ages all kicking ass up there. I wanted it. 

Watching this show shook me in ways I wasn't expecting. Women fighting for their right to exist as they would like, seeing them struggle through shame and fear and ultimately overcoming, witnessing true support...it left me crying and asking myself what I could do differently. 

If you look at pole dancing everything about it is about as far from my upbringing as possible: half naked, high heels, strong women, body autonomy, sexual on their own terms. This encapsulates everything I want to be: owning my body, owning my strength, owning my life.

I found this picture of me from pole (which I believe is the only one taken) and realized it's something I don't share. And I realize I don't share because of the shame around all the things I want to own. This is at it's core a trauma reaction. Well in the name of new reactions I'm sharing. I'm owning this as a fuck you to everyone that has silenced me, cut me down, and made me small. I own it all and you can no longer stop me.

New Year - New Reactions

"I made no resolutions for the New Year. The habit of making plans, of criticizing, sanctioning and molding my life, is too much of a daily event for me." ~ Anais Nin

I actually love resolutions but instead of framing them as goals to obtain, I look at them as a reset, a time for observation, and a reclaiming of what I lost along the way. This year the weight of time hangs in the air as I not only consider what I want for my life but how much time there is to do it. So with the burden of limited time looming I'm instead focusing on my reactions.

My reactions determine my happiness. I'm carefully observing what triggers me, what hurts me, and where I feel validated. Where am I replaying old stories that are no long relevant? What assumptions do I make about myself when what I need doesn't materialize? And quite possibly could everyone else's reactions not be personal to me?

I was randomly posting on Facebook days ago and found everyone's responses were pissing me off. It felt like I was being purposefully made fun of and jabbed at. After deleting an especially annoying post I looked back at my reaction to it all and saw that I hadn't articulated what I was asking very well and this resulted in comments which felt rude. In looking at my reactions from afar I saw that at least most of the comments were merely people flying through their news feed, likely barely reading what I wrote, and certainly weren't trying to hurt me. Though it didn't feel good I was happy to see the result of controlling my reactions instead of acting impulsively.

One of my favorite people to follow on Instagram is The Holistic Psychologist. This insight hit hard, "Start to observe who you spend time with: how they speak, think, & act. Observe how you feel about yourself & life after being around them." I have noticed there are people in my life who I come away feeling like shit. But how much of this is a reaction to something else? Watching my reactions, even when I'm wrong, and seeing where my feelings aren't facts.

Bessel Van Der Kolk says, "Trauma comes back as a reaction, not a memory." I know I have many old beliefs about who I am, my worth, and what my future holds. I also know they have been simmering in my trauma for decades and my reactions don't always know the difference between a feeling and truth.

I'm slowing down as reactivity is typically quick. I'm taking a breath before speaking. I'm reminding myself that the joy of my future is entirely dependent on me and how I chose to react to what is before me. I will live louder to shut down my own damaged mindset.

New Year - New Reactions