i’m trying on my life
like a new pair of jeans
these are too tight
look how fat they make me
i will never wear these
why did i think these would
i’m trying on my life
realizing it’s my favorite
pair of jeans
in all the right places
& look how cute my butt looks
i’m going to wear these
i think, often, when i have this one precious week to myself, my head is able to clear and i figure a little bit more out.
i used to get into relationships so that i wouldn’t have to think about my problems. it was so much easier to focus on someone else’s problems.
it is funny to me to realize i now crave this time alone to examine my own problems and actually try to fix them.
just makes me feel so grown up
in all the right ways
my epiphany is that–consciously or not–i did choose this life. i was not hijacked by it–though i do believe, in a way, it also chose me.
but this is where i want to be. ultimately. i might fantasize about running away…a lot…maybe more than the average person, but this is
where i want to be.
who i want to be.
(and i know this isn’t going to magically fix me & make me happy and make me all gung-ho when usually i feel like crying. i know i’m still going to get pissed off & lonely & depressed…but i think i needed to accept that this is my path–this is where i am supposed to be. and start walking it so i can get where i’m going already…unless life is about the journey. then i guess i just need to stop moping in the ditch and hop to it.)
to all the men i’ve loved before
& to the ones
i didn’t care all that much about
but played with anyway
to all the hearts
i crushed & twisted
pushed & pulled
to shape into something
that pleased me
but they never did
& i was quick to
hurl, more like it
shot put champion
with the hearts of men
this is my open apology
to my many men
some hurt me back
some never got the chance
i had been better
more careful with those
i feel like i’m doing a 12 step program. i thought of actually contacting my list–but holy crap there are way too many…and i only know where a handful of them are…and some of them i cannot have contact with for my own safety.
here i am. realizing through old journals, conversations, and introspection, that i was a shitty girlfriend to a lot of lot of lot of guys.
when i did bother to remember this side of me, i always remembered her as kind of a warrior, kick-ass take no names, awesome bitch.
but but but…she wasn’t nice.
i wasn’t nice.
and i think a lot of it had to do with thinking that no one really cared about me so i couldn’t really hurt them.
but that’s no excuse. i shouldn’t have been such a shit–and often to guys who didn’t even deserve it.
i was a shitty girlfriend. i was a shitty wife. i’ve touched on this before, that i saw my mom as a weak victim…and i internalized that i needed to be the opposite. so i was. i broke hearts & abandoned relationships.
so this is my open apology.
i have no idea if any of my exes even read this blog–and it might be more rude than nice to tag them all–plus, that would be a lot of tags…but if you do read this blog & did once get walked over or callously treated by me, i’m sorry i was a bitch.
(i recently commented to someone that i am better at understanding than forgiving…it occurs to me with this that i am better at knowing i should be sorry than actually being sorry….but i am mostly sorry)
so i can’t just go from point A: inspiration to point B: execution of idea.
for me it’s more like “oh! i have an idea!”
but first i have to water & feed the livestock
wait, i have time for a shower
now i have to clean up after breakfast
now! now i can sit down & draw out my idea….
(which of course is when someone needs help with something)
sometimes this destroys my creative flow…other times it creates an atmosphere of percolation where i mull over the idea in my head as i
take a shower
until the point where i know exactly how i want to execute my idea.
so i have been bothered by this for some time. people who tell me it is inconsistent for me to believe in climate change while questioning vaccines and genetically modified foods. it occurred to me this morning that there is more than one kind of science. this is just an observance…not a well-researched thesis. however, as i see it, there is natural science (how a rainbow happens, what causes a hurricane, why climate change is real)…and then there is what i want to call “man-made” science (plastic, cloning, strip mining & pipelines). i mean the human pursuit of science often falls on the wrong side of “just because you can do it does not mean you should do it.” and i think this is probably caused by man thinking his science is superior to that of nature. he takes something natural & perverts it to meet his needs.
it’s a thought in progress. bear with me.
so i have had four pregnancies. the first two ended with doctors convincing me i was unable to give birth & cutting the baby out of me.
with my third pregnancy, knowing my body wants to go to at least 42 weeks and hearing doctors say they would not allow me to go past 41 without interventions…i quit doctors. i had two home births. and the babies came out when they were ready. after 42 weeks. healthy, normal, and with the bodies of babies born at the right time.
so this started my journey from what convention & mainstream would call “rational” to what i am today–someone who prefers to trust my instincts and question man-made science.
i believe in science. nature is science. fucking around with science is humans trying to beat nature. but we have created this culture where you are not allowed to question anything remotely “science” or you are ridiculed as a crackpot.
look where not questioning what we are told by “scientists” has gotten us.
look at the general health & state of mind of the united states.
look at the state of our climate & our environment.
ps. i am not going to argue this with anyone. i believe in my instincts & my intuition, and i am not ignorant (though admittedly not an expert) on these topics. if you don’t agree with me, that’s all you.
talking about the anger
women reporting their abuse
& their intense anger
“why are they angry now,” he asks me,
“and not before?”
“when you are in it
you have to push it down
you have to
but once you let it out
once you let yourself
you start to heal
& you also stop
…& that made me realize
why i was able to survive
even just a few hours
with my parents
so much healing to do. so many epiphanies to be had.
when you are steeped once more in the madness that created you, you can either be swept away again…or you can learn from it.
i’m trying to learn from it.
i have a lot to learn.
many layers to peel.
the only thing
i’m good at sharing
is my pain
…but when i went to write “pain”
i almost wrote “heart”
i started to write “heart”
i am the first to underestimate me
who am i?
who do i want to be?
what if i’m not so godawful as i think
what if i am already
the person i want to be?
what would my reality be if
i am not
seriously. i started out this journal page with the idea of all that i am good at sharing is my pain.
but instead of writing pain…i started writing heart.
and this totally fucked with my head.
like something i posted on facebook earlier this week.
the more i find out about other people
the more i realize…i’m not really that bad.
i’m not the crap-ass i think i am.
so…well…i guess this means i’m having an identity crisis for christmas.
maybe this will be a good holiday after all….
so as it turns out,
i’m not crazy–i’m an empath.
sometimes i’m still crazy.
but when i get super sad and then feel elated the next minute–
the thing is–
i often don’t feel my own emotions,
i feel other people’s emotions.
i always knew i was really really empathetic
but only in the past couple of years have i learned about being an empath.
so i’m an empath.
i feel things
and know things
that other people cannot sense.
i know when someone is lying.
i can see an aura better than i can notice the color of your eyes.
and it has come to my attention that being an empath–& not knowing how to protect yourself–is a dangerous & even a bad thing.
i don’t know how to protect me.
i lay open for everyone to just dump their emotions in.
and then i turn into a raging pond of dumped emotions.
so today i was reading a book about service dogs for families that have special needs children and i felt profoundly sad. and instead of just feeling sad, i examined why i felt sad…only to realize that the sadness was not my own, but the sadness of these families.
it finally clicked.
i was not feeling my own emotions.
i was feeling someone else’s!!
and just like that, the sadness evaporated.
how often am i doing that?
being angry with someone else’s anger?
being happy with someone else’s happiness?
being frustrated with someone else’s frustration?
when i was a child, i loved animals. all animals. i loved them. i collected them. i had over fifty pets as a kid–and even more imaginary ones.
but my dad was so angry.
and he put that anger on us kids
and on the animals.
and i felt myself absorb that anger.
i felt it grow inside me.
i recognized it when it came out–it was his anger, not mine.
but over the years i adopted it as my own.
i was the one being angry at the animals.
it stopped being his and became mine.
and i felt so horrible about it
i cringe to think that that is who i am.
but what if it isn’t?
if i now realize it is not my anger after all…can i send it on its way?