A blog post a day for 30 days - Day 15 - Staying Whole

This past 2-3 years has been a huge effort in being true to myself and what I want; becoming a whole person and not fragments of who others want me to be. I'm finding the more I hold my ground, not back down and say my truth, the more loss I have in life. Loss of relationships, friendships and some people I assumed would never leave me. It's difficult but it also feels that I have no choice. One of my favorite writings by Anais Nin says, "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." 

It's been painful to hold back for so long. Every time I held my tongue I felt a stabbing inside. When I'd make a choice to please everyone else, that wasn't what I truly wanted, I died a little. I think when you feel you are dying there comes a point that your soul, or whatever it is that makes you you, either gives out or rises up for a big gulp of air to keep going. And if the decision is to keep going, you can't go back to the ways that brought you suffering.

Yet am I fully living out loud? Hardly. Each time I hold true to myself I feel the risk of what might get lost. When I allow myself to believe I'm good enough, and deserve more than I've gotten, I have to allow for the possibility that something I love, or clung to, may have to be given up. It's micro movements, trying and failing, and sometimes staying silent and shoving it all down a little more.

I think a lot about how many years I have left to live and what I'll do with them. Time weighs heavily on me. By my estimate I have roughly 25 years left. I remember turning 25 and how quickly that year came. Of the top 10 regrets of the dying: I wish I lived for myself more, I wish I didn't hold back my feelings, I wish I was happier, I wish I cared less of what others think, I wish I didn't take life for granted and I wish I lived in the now. 6 of the 10 are covered in this post. I don't want to die regretful.

In finding my voice, I fear it will be too loud, and by too loud, I mean unwanted. My energy takes up a lot of space in a room even when I'm holding back. If I went full out, 100%, zero fucks given...would I be happy with what remained? Or would I regret it?

A blog post a day for 30 days - Day 14 - Will my past follow me?

Not that I've done anything too horrendous but I do at times get concerned of my past coming back to haunt me. I think about relationships, friendships and such that I've had to walk away from and those people, in their hurt and anger, using what they know about me as retaliation. No real aspirations to fame and fortune (well actually I'm up for a little fortune...) yet what if I did achieve one of these? We've all seen how as a society we truly get off in digging up dirt on people and destroying them. I'm as guilty as anyone of reading what's said, looking at the pictures and smirking that the person is flawed.  Human. Like myself really.

I can't find the exact quote but I remember Joan Rivers saying something like no one can get to her because she'll be the first to lay out all her flaws. It's a form of self preservation. I see I do that. I'm the first to make a self deprecating joke because I'd rather hear my own words than the sting of yours. I don't take kidding around well unless I feel certain the person actually cares about me and isn't trying to intentionally hurt me. And I get hurt easily. Joking in my family felt mean. It didn't feel so much like we're all being funny with each other as ways to purposefully humiliate. I would say on the flip side that I'm careful about joking and am watchful to make sure the other person is laughing with me.

Yet is the fear really public humiliation? I've lived a long and colorful life so there are definitely stories I don't want told, pictures and videos I don't want seen, and I'm sure countless other things I've long forgotten. I think at the core is shame, for mistakes, but hurt that someone I once cared about is joyfully torturing me. 

These thoughts hang over me when I write. Though I'm trying to be raw, real and honest, I hold back. Once it's out there you can't take it back. Yet when you ask someone at the end of their life what they regret it's always what they didn't do and didn't say...it's never making mistakes but a life not fully lived. So why does your judgment matter to me? You weren't there. You aren't on my journey. And maybe someone needs to see a flawed person stand strong in who they are and the choices they've made whether right or wrong. Maybe, just maybe, that would make it all worth it.

A blog post a day for 30 days - Day 13 - Immobility

I'm behind on my posts, way behind, 2 days behind. The obvious answer when I first realized this was to off course whip out a post. Yet immobility takes over. A mistake was made, everyone saw it, you are now being judged, harshly, and there is no way to recover because the time is now gone. Mark Twain said, You wouldn't worry so much about what people think of you, if you knew how seldom they do,”. True. Only had 17 views of my last post so this isn't exactly going viral! Maybe I should throw a conspiracy theory in here so ya'll will read it. Though truly, if I get really honest, it's my own opinion and not others that stops me cold.

It's really fear taking over, and on the Fight, Flight or Freeze spectrum I'm a freezer. Say something mean to a friend and I'll rip you apart. Now say it to me and watch me go full on deer in the headlights. It's taken me years to process some things people have said to me because at that moment I couldn't take it in. 

Not the only area I freeze. When I'm asked what I want I go immobile because now we're getting into hope. To state what I might want means I'm hoping for it. I made a decision, when life was at it's worst as a teenager, to stop hoping. At the time I believed in a God, and felt since this deity had taken away the rest of my hope that it was purposeful, so I needed to keep silent and pretend I didn't want or expect anything. Again, as is so often, this is a trauma response.

A friend recently talked to me about doing a 21 Day Hope meditation. I said I'm pissed off just thinking about it. But upon further discussion she pointed out that I do have hope otherwise I wouldn't have persevered where others have crumbled, I wouldn't have my tenacity, I would have stopped trying all together. I wanted to silence her, because the God I don't believe in might hear and come hurt me. Hope, faith, belief...all words that have too much pain and emotion for me. I need a new word.

I said at the end of 2018 that I was going to Have Hope for a Year. I had hope maybe half a year. Not quite. 2019 was a year of huge highs and bottoming out lows. 2020 is feeling like a throwaway year. Where's the hope?

Instead of hope I would like to focus on purpose. A meaning to life. A reason for my life. Strangely...that actually gives me some hope...

A blog post a day for 30 days - Day 12 - Shame from mistakes

I hate mistakes, not that any of us love them, but even the smallest of mistakes really get to me. Being human I certainly make mistakes all the time but they typically elicit a fear response in me. Fear of what? Being in trouble? Shamed? Humiliated? Yes, it's all there in various ways. I hold myself highly accountable and freely admit to mistakes and try to fix them. On the flip side I get overly angry at anyone who doesn't own their mistakes. Perhaps some of my anger at them is really a reflection of my anger and disappointment with myself when I make one. 

Mistakes are part of life. I get that. And though there is some part of me that believes everyone remembers my every mistake like I do, from most of them I do eventually move on. Yet there are the repeated mistakes. The ones you get into a vicious cycle on and can't seem to pull out of. Others are watching, even asking "Why are you doing this again!?" and you don't have a good answer. It's said until you learn the lesson that cycles will repeat. My therapist will often ask, "What age does this feel like?" and I see it's never my current age, but a time when I was much younger. Many times I do see the pattern but feel under a spell of sorts and can't break free.

I was speaking a friend this morning and we spoke about being "stuck in your story". I do feel patterns of repeated mistakes, or rather not doing the best for ourselves, are part of this. It's said with repressed memories that the mind will let you remember when it feels safe and you are ready (which is perhaps never if you don't do the work). I've found a lot of old anger and shit coming up for me recently with situations happening to me now. And though I feel the answers are there it's as if something is preventing me from fully getting to the root of it all. Immobility, freezing, stunned silence but punchy as fuck. Is being in isolation during a pandemic, when emotions are prickly and intense, really the time to go this deep? Or is it the perfect time?

So why be ashamed? We're all struggling through the muck of life, trying to figure it out, attempting to manage our healing, and there is no shame in that. Yet when we're doing the work we trip up, we stagnate and we make the same repeated messes sometimes. And others witness this and it feels so shameful. I hide my mistakes, I bet you do too, out of this shame so as not to be called out on our perceived failures. This is so isolating and lonely but it feels safer than the full truth out loud.

What would happen if we felt we were safe to fuck it all up and not be judged? What would happen if allowed others the space to fail badly as they figure it out? Owning my part; if I want you to give me a soft place to land when I'm coming out of a failure free fall...I have to do the same for you as well.

A blog post a day for 30 days - Day 11 - Who am I doing this for?

I saw a meme, or post, or something recently where it talked about how women are hanging around in pajamas, hair undone, nails hacked, not showering and it asked the question "Who were really doing all that for?" So initially I was fired up, Fuck the Patriarchy, I look how I want! And then I thought about it...Who do I do these things for?

Now to understand my feelings you have to understand where I came from; the south. Texas specifically. And Texas women do it up! One of my earliest and fondest memories is being around 2 or 3 and sitting at my great grandmother's dressing table, with her on one side and my grandmother on the other, while they put perfume on me, powder, lotion and told me what it was to be a southern lady. I don't have any memory of what they said but I loved the stuff!

When I was in elementary school we had a little bathroom off the kitchen where my mother kept her makeup and knee highs (nylons that only go up to your knees). I would go in there for hours, put on her knee highs, thigh highs for me, and play with everything. The knee highs felt so soft and pretty. The perfumes, lotions and powders smelled so good. I was in there only for my own enjoyment.

My favorite grandmother make up story is when I was 13. We were in Minnesota by now and she'd come up to live by us as she needed assistance. One Saturday in the summer we were going to take her on errands and to the library. We walk in her place and she gasps when she sees me. I don't have a clue what's going on. She looks at me, at my mother, back at me then turns to my mother and says, "What kind of daughter are you raising!?!?" I look down at my shorts, t-shirt and hair in a pony tail. Dumbfounded. My mother got annoyed with my grandmother easily and barked back "What?!" "13 years old and leaving the house without her lipstick!!!!" "Well throw her a lipstick to put on and lets go!" Oh no...we don't just throw on lipstick. "Well what's her colors? What's her ensemble?" My shorts and t-shirt ensemble. So we had to sit down while she mixed colors, lined my lips, put on lipstick and a highlighter. She went on to add that this was the bare minimum to be out in public. It was so funny to me as my friends were begging to merely wear a lip gloss and I was expected to have a full face! So yes, being that my mother's side of the family was southern I was allowed to play with any and all makeup to my heart's content...and I loved it.

So I thought about our current predicament and how many women are enjoying not having to mess with all the aesthetics. And initially I was looking pretty haggard too. But as I've adjusted to my new normal I realize I do want these things back...for me. I love having different colored nails daily. I wear ridiculous colors at times, and do them myself so I can change it out quickly. Not to attract men, not to appease society, not to even live up to other women...for me. I was hating seeing 2 inch roots and my hair not looking how I like it. So I dyed it pink and purple...something I've always wanted to do...for me. I just got out of a bath and saw my perfume on my dressing table (inherited from my great grandmother - I could give a shit about material possessions but I love this with everything in me), and realized I hadn't put on perfume in forever. I love perfume, I buy scents I like, so I sprayed some on, smelled and had a moment of happiness...for me.

For anyone out there now saying they'll never put on makeup again, nail polish is off, and clothes are for comfort...good for you! I'm happy for you! I applaud you! I love that you are making a choice you want! But I'll admit...I can't wait to have a place to wear some stilettos, every possible make up option on my face, hair spot on and getting my strut on...for me.

A blog post a day for 30 days - Day 10 - What do I want to do?

While writing my last post I though that I'd write this one on my insecurities. Apparently I wanted to feel bad. But then while taking a yoga class my thoughts shifted, and I instead felt a huge draw and inspiration to talk about what I want to do with what's left of my life.

Without exact details, as I don't want this to be my own little forum to call people out and accuse and shame, I can say I allowed myself to get small this past year. I let my boundaries get repeatedly walked on. I got into a hyper active state of conflict avoidance. And as part of making sure there weren't possible issues, I toned down who I was and what I wanted out of life. I pushed my aspirations aside because I felt they weren't supported...actually worse, weren't noticed at all. Key words...I allowed it. Now why I allowed it is another post for another day.

So what do I want to do? Here goes....

* I want to try stand up comedy again. I did it twice over 20 years ago. Never so scared in my life. But I like writing material, I like trying it out on people (I do it all the time and don't let you know), and I want to try again.
* I want to quit looking to others to validate my worth as a human (especially a woman).
* I want to write and publish a book. This feels cliche as it seems everyone and their brother feels their story is so special. OK, all our stories are special, so come write with me.
* I want to be a public speaker. What am I speaking on? To be determined. But I feel that's in me and I'd love it. (Likely because spouting my opinion on all things brings me great joy...LOL.)
* I want to say "No" without explanation.
* I want to learn to let cutting words roll off my back and not permeate me.
* I want to sing again.
* I want to go to Santorini, Greece (it's the wallpaper on my screen and I've longed to be there for years)
* I want to not give a fuck what anyone thinks.

I was listening to Glennon Doyle talk yesterday and my soul screamed in agreement, "No one knows what you should do because your life is an unprecedented and unrepeatable experiment. Nobody has ever tried to live with your pain, power, past, people and potential...Do the next right thing without asking for permission before and without explaining yourself after...The most revolutionary thing a woman can do is never explain herself."

I am brave, I am bruised, I am who I’m meant to be, This is Me…I’m not scared to be seen, I make no apologies, This is Me.

A blog post a day for 30 days - Day 9 - What do I want to talk about?

Having major writer's block at the moment. Missed yesterday's post (all prepped to type it, tired, thought I'd lay my head down for a mere second and next thing I knew it was past midnight and I was still on the couch) so I feel like I need to whip out two posts today. So as I toggle through the thoughts I'm having all subject feel too big, too revealing, too raw. Giving myself my usual reminder that I call my blog Raw Bleach for a reason...to be honest, vulnerable and raw, yet my mind is fighting it hard. 

So I went back to one of my favorite poems (memes? quotes? I don't even know what to call this) that's called "I hate small talk", and it lists deep things to talk about, explore and think about. I also figured out my subject for post number two today...

I love the line "I like people with depth, who speak with emotion from a twisted mind". This may be a little rude, and more than a bit judgmental, but I find most people have very little depth. Or if they do have depth it's never revealed. I love people while they also bore me to tears. I think this is why I struggle so much with small talk. As extroverted as I am, with a mouth that doesn't shut up, you'll find in social situations (parties where I don't know anyone, work events where you're supposed to walk around and mingle) that I want to hide in a corner, because I find the basic pleasantries so mundane. "Hi! How are you?" "Good. And yourself?" "Great. So big plans this week end?" "Oh we'll probably grill, do some yard work." "Yes, I really have to start working on my landscaping." Will someone please shoot me now!! I shut down with this shit. Yet if a stranger in the middle of Target were to ask me "Do you believe that the power of your mind alone can do magic?" and I'll be entranced for hours right there in the frozen foods aisle. 

Now let me get off my judgment horse for a second and say this; for some people, for many, they are quite content with a life that's simply "OK". And there is nothing wrong with that. If "OK" makes them feel loved, safe and happy, then that's wonderful! I'm not into "OK". I want more.  I want a lot more. I want amazing, I want mind blowing, I want fantastic...."Let me wake up and feel entirely proud that the girl in the mirror is me!" (lyric stolen from A Chorus Line).