well that bit me in the ass

i kinda cheated on writing last week.

i posted a small little post in the middle of the afternoon on a thursday and only found out before starting this post that the html was completely messed up so it was not readable.

so i met my goal of one post a week...but did i really?



truth time:

i know just enough about social media to know how to fly a little below the radar. i've been on twitter long enough to know when no one is reading. i know just enough to know how to hide posts in feeds or make things less visible.

i may or may not intentionally bury posts at times when they feel particularly vulnerable.

sometimes when you shout into the great void you hope for an echo.

sometimes you just want to shout.

that post was one i wanted to hide.

but what's the point of writing and trying to be honest if you're still trying to hide?

that post covered how i'm bisexual: tl/dr women are amazing.

since then, i've been struggling with coming to terms with the shift in perspective which has really surprised me.

and i've struggled with wanting to talk about it more, but i don't want to be the lulu lemon lesbian.

LOOK AT THIS AMAZING NEW THING I FOUND!! NO, NO, JUST TRY IT ONCE, YOU'LL NEVER GO BACK. YOU'LL LOVE IT. YOU WON'T UNDERSTAND HOW YOU EVER GOT ALONG WITHOUT IT!!

JOIN TODAY AND GET A CUSTOM HYDROFLASK AND A SEPHORA COUPON.

i didn't want to annoy or over saturate or turn into this overzealous proselytizing cliche.

but the thing is, cliches are cliches for a reason.

and, i mean, IT'S A BIG FUCKING DEAL. i feel like so many things make so much more sense. i feel like i've finally figured out why things have just NEVER worked for so many years, no matter what i tried. all the brick walls and dead ends.

after 40 years of existing i feel like i'm finally figuring myself out.

THAT'S A HUGE DEAL YA'LL. i want to talk about it.

after 20+ years of struggling with dating. trying to find a partner. getting so frustrated and hurt and defeated. giving up how many times because i just couldn't find what i was looking for. not even close.

WELL DUH YOU DUMB ASS. you were looking the wrong direction the whole time.

and, to be fair,

i didn't even have half of it figured out for a LONG time.

then after i figured out half of it, i still hid for so many years. i like guys. always have, always will. there were even some guys i REALLY REALLY liked. and some were great experiences. but it was never RIGHT. none of them ever worked out more than a few weeks. none of them ever...well. it just didn't work.

but sticking closet to the straight side was MUCH easier than figuring out that other half.

i keep saying half because i've joked for years about being a 50/50 split bi. equal opportunity.

that's how it looks in my head. and i feel like maybe that stems from the conversation/questions you hear about bi-sexuals about if they're REALLY bi when they're in whatever form of a partnership. like there's this constant pressure to prove that you REALLY ARE BOTH ALL THE TIME. it's part of bi-erasure. if you date a man, women were just an experimental phase. if you date a woman, previous relationships with men were just a stopover on the way to gaytown.

and i really let this get in my head and fuck it up for a few days.

it was like finding a stronger preference in myself for women made me want to just dig my claws into I STILL LIKE MEN.

but...

A) i know better.

how many times have i said sexuality is a fluid thing? an ever moving target? a sliding scale?

i was always reassuring friends without listening to myself.

huh. funny how thoughts just come out sometimes.

without listening to myself.

and the focus of this year is to LISTEN.

and now that i'm listening to myself...

funny how that works isn't it?

but also,

B) WHO THE FUCK CARES?

so what if it does turn out the first 40 years of my life were just a layover?

sometimes it takes 40 years of wandering around, maybe a talking burning bush* to get some clarity and get you where you need to be.

*LISTEN. i'm not saying moses was stoned as fuck when that "burning bush" talked to him...i'm just saying afghani kush is some good shit. (ps: a drunk history of moses exists and it's amazing)


but again, WHO CARES?

and this is where it gets mushy.

i am finally, for the first time, at the point in my life where i can say this:

all the people that matter most to me, ALL of them.

it doesn't matter to them.

they truly accept me for who i am.

i have built a circle. i have found my people. i have surrounded myself with GOOD people. i have made my life, my home, my job, good. SAFE.

i have made a space for myself to BE myself.

which, by logic, means now i have to go DO that.

shit.

one piece at a time

last night i was working through a few things and had a BIG realization. you know that feeling when a core piece of you just BOOM. locks into place? just *KA CHUNK* feeling and you finally, finally know for sure. without a doubt, the answer to a question you didn’t know you asked.

well, i did ask.

 i know i very specifically asked. i've got to own it.

i asked a the universe a question and got an answer.

in the last week i’ve gone from “am i gay enough” to have a long term relationship with a woman? to reaffirming not only YES, i am, but then being hit by realizing:

OH. yeah. duh. my life partner(s) will be a woman. got it.

*KA CHUNK*

so what does that mean to me?

why did that take so long to figure out?

here's where the words come in.

it’s time for me to find some new words.

bisexual is a weird word when you think about who you are as an entire person. it reduces the whole experience to sex. and it’s a very “straight” word or at least always has been to me.

because i didn’t realize liking men AND women was even a thing for so long, all my default programming is heterosexual. all of it. being bi-sexual meant an assumption that my MAIN relationship would be a man. of course. but the SEX part could be with either. because it’s bi-SEXUAL, not bi-relationshipual. bi-partnershipual?

but the more i’m learning about myself, i’m realizing that is NOT my actual programming. turns out my REAL default setting is a main relationship with a woman and the sex part could be with either.

what’s the word for that? oh, it’s still bisexual? cool. glad we cleared that up.

but my life partner (s?) will be a woman. i know this now. that has become CRYSTAL CLEAR in the last week. so many things make so much more sense now.

so then i decided to try to list all the amazing attributes of all the women i admire, the things i would like to set as intentions for my life partner. the list kept growing and growing and growing and i suddenly realized that i am SURROUNDED by amazing women with innumerable amazing qualities. and that’s, just...wow.

WOMEN ARE AMAZING.

that is all.

let's talk about sex

ya'll ready for a great big secret?

i have sex.

WHAT??

i know.

double down:

sometimes that sex is with boys.

sometimes that sex is with girls.

MOST of that sex is single player mode.

thank heavens for rechargable batteries.

now that ya'll are shooketh to your very core, time to hit the rewind.

i grew up in an incredibly conservative evangelical house. INCREDIBLY conservative.

i was at church every sunday morning, sunday night, wednesday night. my whole life was about pleasing jesus, being a good girl, staying out of trouble, doing what i was *supposed* to do. when i got in trouble about friends (or lack thereof) my mom's solution was to write out all the bible verses about friendship. when i was in regular trouble it was about disappointing jesus. all the books i read were christian books- i devoured the entire Mandy series impatiently waiting for every new book. i read all the jeanette oak books over and over and over again. want to know where some of my most twisted relationship expectations come from? read through a few of the "when calls the heart" series. 

some of my FAVORITE, ALL TIME FAVORITE books to this day are written by francine rivers. i've learned to skip some of the heavier christian parts but there's this incredible three part series about a germanic man being forced to fight for his life in the arena and how be becomes friends with a household servant that survived being thrown to the lions for being a christian. the writing is amazing. the story is amazing. but holy heavens (pun intended) the entire series is written solely around being a christian saves your life.

this is all a long way to say i was a "good girl" growing up. i took the purity pledge. i was all aboard the no sex til marriage train.

i didn't particularly date in high school. there were a few actual dates and very few actual boyfriends. mostly i was known as a frigid bitch and there was an ongoing bet around the school of who would be able to shag me first (the guys weren't shy about letting me know this).

there was one guy i had a MASSIVE crush on- he was my first kiss, my first french kiss, and the guy i snuck into the light/sound booth in the theater more than a few times with for massive make out sessions. but i would have never been allowed to date him. he was raised by a single mom, they lived on the "other side of town," and most importantly, he didn't go to church. yes. these are things that were real issues to my mom. he passed away a few years after high school and it broke my heart. he was unfailingly kind, even when he wasn't. he was the one that let me know about the running bet. he was one of the ONLY ones that still talked to me after i got pregnant. he even made me laugh a few times asking if we could have sex while i was pregnant since the damage was already done. he was the only one to ever tell me i was beautiful while i was pregnant.

side note: i heard the way my mama, a proper christian lady, talked about his mama, a single mom of two boys who *gasp* dated.

more than few of my mothers nasty judgements of his mom stuck with me over the years. i was a single mama of two boys who *gasp* dated.

to this day i am still heartbroken for that gal and they way too many stuck up assholes in that town treated her. she lost both of her boys just a few years out of high school. all those years of working so hard to raise them, putting up with the shitty people in our small town just to lose them both. wherever she is i hope with every fiber of my being the universe has been kind to her the last 18 years.

ANYWAY.

i lost my virginity my sophomore year of high school. there was a guy i had a crush on and i found out he was moving away. i offered to have sex with him before he moved, he said ok, lay down. i did, he stuck it in, i said "ow, that hurts," he got up and walked away and i never saw him again. just enough to leave a stain on the floor of the electronics classroom. good times.

the first time i had sex my senior year i got pregnant. good times.

i had a few partners in college and then had my first orgasm with my second sons father. yes, that's right, my first orgasm happened with my 10th partner when i already had a 5 year old child. now you know 50% of the reason i got married. the other 50% was that 9/11 had just happened, the world was ending, and this guy didn't care that i already had a kid. spoiler alert: one orgasm and a world war is NOT a good reason to get married.

when i was married he used to shame me non-stop about sex. that i masturbated. that i had been with other partners. it went on and on. if i was "good" at something it was a reason for suspicion. if i was "bad" at something it was, to him, a validation for having 2 mistresses.

after my divorce, around the age of 24 i bought my first vibrator.

shortly thereafter i started watching porn and figuring out my sexuality.

yes, after 2 kids, a marriage and a divorce, THEN i started figuring out my sexuality.

i honestly didn't know there was anything TO figure out.

of course i wasn't gay.

gay was only for boys and if you were gay you got AIDS and died. the 80's and 90's were rife with AIDS misinformation and fear. toilet seats! sneezes! Ryan White! 

there was one lesbian in town growing up. she was the volleyball coach at the high school. i had no idea what being a lesbian meant unless it was raising huskies, coaching volleyball, and having to keep paper over the windows in her office AND keep the blinds closed, AT ALL TIMES.

i had never heard the word "bisexual."

i knew that i liked boys. it's one or the other, right? that bisexual thing is just a stop over on your way to gay, and as already covered, i of course couldn't be gay.

sometime around 27 i started to notice that i really, really do not like straight porn. it's the same three things: a LOT of oral sex for the guy, a TINY bit of oral sex for the girl, penis in vagina sex for three of 4 different positions, and scene.

it's boring. it's not pleasant to watch.

but then there was girl on girl porn...

HEY NOW.

well then. this is something different.

and then it slowly dawned on me...you know, you REALLY like girl on girl porn...what if it's because...you like girls?

BUT I LIKE GUYS!

sure...but what if you ALSO like girls?

back then, 2007ish, there weren't a lot of dating options besides match.com and there were FOR SURE no dating options if you wanted to date a lady.

so i turned to the only other place: craigslist.

yuuuuuuup.

i arranged my first lady date on craigslist.

we met for dinner at chilis, went to a bar for drinks and somehow ended up in a threesome with one of my coworkers. the next day she said "well, that was an experience," and we never went out again. she realized she was completely and fully straight, i realized i was completely and fully bi.

i never had a big coming out to my family or friends. there was no magical TADA moment or big crying tearful confession over a holiday dinner.

in retrospect i may have slightly been a MASSIVE asshole about how i let my family know.

with my mom it was a particularly painful moment in her therapy session when i asked her: sure, you SAY you love and support me, but how many bi-sexual, tattooed, single moms do you associate with outside being FORCED to with your own daughter?

oof.

with my brother, he called one year while i was working at a booth at pride.

bro: don't you have to be one of "those letters" to go to pride?

me: well, you know there's such a thing as ALLIES, but yes, i am one of those letters. B is one of those letters. always has been.

bro: what?

me: what?

bro: like...

me: oh, did you not know i'm bi? hey, by the bye, i'm bi.

so. you know. maybe fair enough that he still refers to me as "one of those letters."

i didn't go out with another woman for YEARS after that. i had a few partners, had one gal i was really into but it was a complicated situation. but mostly i just...well..didn't.

i was never quiet about it with my kids. the topic came up several times. i have friends all across the rainbow family. my boys both at different times questioned their own sexuality and we worked through it together. my oldest took a boy to a school dance and kissed him and realized he is fully, fully straight. my youngest was picked on for wearing bow ties to school for almost a fully year and tearfully questioned if he was gay because everyone kept telling him he was.

now they're both openly, vocally, painfully completely homophobic. 

i saw this developing in them. i heard the jokes, the slurs, the insults. i knew they were hearing things at youth group. my youngest came home one day and told me his youth pastor told him he was being raised in a dangerous, abusive household because i have tattoos and i'm bisexual.

so i just shut that side down for a long time.

i liked guys. so, you know, i would just...avoid all the rest.

i didn't want to expose anyone else to my kids. i didn't want anyone else to have to hear the horrible jokes and terrible accusations and painful insults.

i raised my kids in an open, loving, non-judgmental household. they still chose hate.

here's a spoiler alert for anyone wondering: avoiding a part of yourself doesn't make it go away.

i struggled with it over the years. it made me so angry at times that i had to hide. from my own kids.

but i did. i thought it was best for them. i thought it was safer for me.

but now that's all changed.

several things have changed: first, i'm done answering to other people. if you don't like my sexuality? DON'T HAVE SEX WITH ME.

easy enough.

not sure how who i'm attracted to has any bearing on anyone else besides the person i might be attracted to.

and if they don't like my sexuality, well, i'll say it again: DON'T HAVE SEX WITH ME.

so. NOW we're getting to the point.

that's right suckers. i'm *JUST NOW* getting to the point of this week.

this week...this week.

THIS. WEEK. Y'ALL.

you think i'd be used to getting my psychological ass handed to me by now. all the work and therapy and whatnot i've been doing.

but here we are.

this week i had a lady date.

we met for pizza. we talked. it was a good time.

i did my usual first date panic, talked WAY too much.

i didn't put too much stock in it. how many first dates have i been on after all?

besides...she lives in another town, my car is for sale...just...it was just another first date.

but then the week took a turn. because of course it did.

talk about burying the lede...i don't have to sell my car right now.

i found out friday afternoon that the child support order is *only* for back support that happened while the order was going through the hearing process. that's it. because my son moved out of state and doesn't live with the grandparents now, the support order for them isn't valid. i'm sure there will be another one coming soon, but, for now, i have a small stay of execution. i have a few more months to figure things out and get things sorted financially.

i get to keep my car (for now).

and...if i get to keep my car for now...that means the possibility of dating someone in another town IS a possibility.

and holy shit.

commence full on panic.

what if i'm not bi enough to BE BI.

what if i'm not gay enough to date a lady full time? 

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

like, 3 weeks in i'll change my mind and be like, NOPE. NEVER MIND.

girl, YOU LIKE GIRLS. you know this.

funny thing, i've never worried about not being straight enough to date a fella.

and, let's be real, this is ME. not like i'm exactly aces at dating ANYONE.

BUT. the point. i swear i'm getting to the point.

the point is it's a possibility.

it's a real chance for me to BE ME. i've hidden all these years because it was the easier choice. 

now i get the chance to just...LIVE.

and it feels like this week shifted everything.

i've struggled with this project so far. i've struggled with how sad it felt. how much of a STRUGGLE it felt. like it was just rehashing terrible things and sad experiences. and i kept trying to change the focus. i kept trying to frame it as an opportunity. i kept trying to frame it as an adventure. i wanted to post the positive opportunities. i wanted to find the silver lining to what was feeling like a year of trying to just survive.

and this week it shifted to #thrive.

i don't have to sell my car. i have a little breathing room. i have a focus. i have a path. i have a plan.

i can work on BECOMING myself.

i was geared up and ready for battle. i was ready to SURVIVE. i was on the island. i had an ice skate ready for any medical emergencies and a volleyball to keep me company. I WAS GOING TO GRIND IT OUT.

and i feel like...i'm a firm believer that if you shut up and listen you can hear the universe talking to you.

in my case it spent this weekend SCREAMING at me.

i select a random playlist and it's one song after another just hammering the point home.

i go out and meet new people and the conversation ends up smacking me upside the head.

i stay home and do my chores and meditate and do my writing and and all the little pieces of my apartment that i've selected and picked and carefully arranged, they take a moment to stand out and remind me of why i picked them and brought them home.

i'm a little slow that way sometimes. i do things because they're important to me. i get specific tattoos. i buy specific books. i make a specific letterboard. and then they just become a part of things. and sometimes you forget they're even there. and then, when you need them, they talk to you. they gently remind you of things you already know.

i made a sign a year ago when i moved in. i haven't changed it. it's been there. i look at it, but i haven't LOOKED at it in a while:

i didn't say survive.


i said THRIVE.

and i feel that now.

i'm not in survival mode. this project has shifted things. life has shifted things. i'm still doing what i need to do. this isn't a get out of jail free moment. this is a stay of execution while the judge reviews the case.

i'm still writing. i'm still focusing on my budget. i'm still focusing on walking to work. i'm still focusing on making healthy life choices. doing the things i need to do for my mental health. i'm still focused on appreciating each week and each moment this year.

even if they decide to blindside me and flip the script out of no where.

i'm not just going to survive this year. i'm going to THRIVE. i'm going to become ME. i'm going to start doing the things that scare me. i'm going to start TRYING. there's no reason to hide anymore. there's no reason to let other people dictate who i am. there's no reason to let fear of how one person might respond keep me from trying something new.

i'm not just going to survive this year.

I'M GOING TO THRIVE.

week 3

i knew it would come, just not this fast.

ugh. week 3.

can't...figure...out...what...to...say.

it's not that i don't have anything TO say, it's that there's SO MUCH but it's still heavy, emotional junk and it feels like that's all it been so far.

i guess you talk about what you know though, right?

i'm still breaking my brain a little very week. still cleaning out the emotional closet.

last week i had a huge realization that a LOT of people think i'm impulsive.

it's such a weird thought to me, but i followed the rabbit trail and let the idea chase itself around.

i get it.

people see the end result: when i make a decision, it's DONE. this is what's happening. action is usually VERY swift to follow and it can seem, understandably, out of the blue.

what many people (surprisingly mostly family) don't realize is how long that decision took. i NEVER make snap decisions. ever. i'm obnoxiously thorough.

i think about things from every possible perspective. i look for every option. i worst case scenario ALL the scenarios. i think through everything. pro/con lists. meditation. research.

what you don't see on that list though is an important one: DISCUSSIONS.

i was a single parent for 21 years. i didn't have anyone to make decisions WITH. i ran things around in my head endlessly, then decided, then made it happen.

that can have the effect of blindsiding people. yes, there's been HUNDREDS of hours of thought, but no one else knew that. no one else was in on the conversation.

17 years ago my then-husband came home one day in december to a uhaul in the front yard.

he didn't know i had been seeing a domestic violence counselor for months. that i had been apartment hunting. that i was lining things up, weighing it out. i had JOURNALS of processing and working through the abuse and trying to decide if i would stay or go. when i decided to go, I WENT. he left to plow snow at the fire department, i had a friend waiting with a truck, by the time he got back i had about 20 minutes left of packing and i was gone.

i can understand the anger of feeling blindsided of coming home to a uhaul in the front yard. i get it.

with my kids...i tried everything. counseling. mentors. sports. church. friends. court. police. teachers. rules, no rules, discipline. 

things just spiraled with both of them. there was so much anger and violence and i tried everything. when it came time to make a change it had to be rapid and fast otherwise the weeks leading up to it would have been absolute hell. 

but i get it. my brother always calls me a frog with a lighter under my ass. he calls and i have a new job. a new apartment. something has changed.

a) that shows how often we talk

b) he doesn't understand the months and years of work that has gone into my decisions.

yes. i quit a job with 2 days notice. no, it wasn't an impulse.

it was a LONG time coming after putting up with blatant racism, homophobia, prejudice. listening to coworkers sit 2 feet away from my desk railing about how all single moms are worthless drains on the government. listening to them talk about how they would NEVER allow a gay person near their family. being groped by them when they walked by my desk. listening to one coworker proudly announce, to the owner of the company "i'm prejudice. i'm not afraid to say it...i'm prejudice against all of them!"

yeah, i quit 20 minutes after on a wednesday and told them friday would be my last day. it was fast, but it was a LONG time coming.

but i get it. i can see the other side.

maybe if i allowed some of the discussions out of my head it would be different. so i'm working on that.

this week i had a massive realization that broke my brain again: i spent 21 years trying to prove everyone wrong. i was a teen mom and i'll be damned if i was going to be "one of those teen moms..." that people like my coworkers talked about. i didn't want to be a drain on the system. i didn't want to use government aid any more than absolutely necessary. i made the housing authorities stop sending me a housing grant a few months after they gave it to be because i had stabilized and could pay rent on my own. they didn't understand. took weeks to convince them i didn't need it anymore, give it to someone else.

i worked my ass off for 21 years to not be a failure. i couldn't ask for help. i couldn't be a mooch. i couldn't be the teen mom they were all waiting for me to be. EVEN INTO MY 30'S.

yeah. that shit sticks with you. i was a "teen mom" by age for THREE YEARS. but somehow i ended up being a teem mom my whole life.

but guess what fuckers? I DID IT.

yeah. look what all that repression and refusing to ask for help got me...

oh wait...

so. here i am. almost 40. no longer a parent. and guess what. 

I NEED HELP.

i need friends. i need emotional support. i might need financial support. i will need rides. i will need someone to pick me up on occasion or help me run errands every now and again.

and fuck if that isn't a bitter pill to swallow in some ways.

but WHY?

why is it so embarrassing to ask for help?

because i'm worried someone from 21 years ago will get to say, "SEE! I WAS RIGHT!"

 ok.

cool.

you were right. i'm a failure. i need help.

COOL. hope you got the satisfaction out of that after twenty one years. good on you.

GUESS WHAT?

asking for help is more important than worrying about some asshat getting to say they were right about me. 

so i tried it last night.

i asked for help.

and when friends came through with that help, i let them.

and when they offered bonus help on top of the help, I TOOK THEM UP ON IT.

and fuck it that wasn't the...just...IT WAS AN AMAZING NIGHT.

it was the first full moon of the lunar new year.

i knew i wanted to do something. set some intentions. clear some energy. SOMETHING.

so my friends came over and we talked for a while and the idea of burning some of the things from my past came up.

WHO DOESN'T LOVE A GOOD BURNING SHIT BONFIRE??

when i was a kid my mom used to write me letters. post cards when i was at camp gilead (why yes, it was a church camp, how did you guess?).

summers when i was at my dads house i would usually get a letter or two.

then there were the MOM letters. 


my brother and i used to live in fear of the mom letter. if you got a mom letter you done fucked up.


the letters...oof those letters. one of them i read through last night would have been written to me at 7 years old. it was full of reminders to make sure i always looked nice, my hair was always done, i was always being polite. i was being helpful and nice.

it maybe seems innocuous at first but when you think that at age SEVEN. SEVEN YEARS OLD i was being trained and conditioned on how i needed to behave and appear in order to be good. how i needed to BE a friend to have friends. i grew up thinking (still do) that i'm a shitty friend because no matter how hard i tried to BE a friend, i never HAD friends. that will fuck you up. especially because kids are assholes and when they find someone willing to do ANYTHING to be included, you bet your ass they'll take full advantage of that.

and i had a handful of them. these letters and cards. some i've let go before now, but these i had held onto for a myriad of reasons:

a) you NEVER throw away a letter or card. if someone sends you a letter or card you keep that FOREVER. FOR.EV.ER. 

i literally, until a few months ago, had a shoebox full of cards from my babyshower.

no no, not the baby shower when i had my kids.

THE BABY SHOWER WHEN I WAS BORN ALMOST 40 YEARS AGO.

i have had this damn box of card and tags for 40 years. they've been schlepped to countless apartments with me. tucked away, taking up space...for...why??

b) in some twisted way i still saw those letters as my mom caring for me. and they were. in her twisted, religiously brainwashed way, she was telling me she cared. i get that. kinda. she wanted what was best for me. she wanted me to fit in and have friends as much as i wanted them. she was trying to help me develop good hygiene habits, help with chores, be responsible, be courteous, be helpful, be good. please the lord.

i get it. i do. in her way she was trying to help.

but holy. fuck. ya'll.

that was some fucked up "help" happening there.

and it's still deep in my head. those phrases: "...to have a friend you have to be a friend..." is right up there with "..no one will love you until you love yourself..." in the way it just absolutely fucks you up and makes you believe you don't deserve either of those things because you've never been able to make them happen.

so i burned those fuckers last night.

the last of those letters.

i burned them.

it was time to sever that tie. to acknowledge how damaging that was. to acknowledged that i did not deserve to have all that terrible programming shoved in my head as a kid.

it was time to let all that weight go.

that fire...man. fire and i have a very complicated relationship going WAY back.

fire and i....i have a long standing history with fire.

it terrifies me but it calls to me too. anytime i meditate i need a candle nearby. anytime i want to set intentions or process things there needs to be a fire of some sort. but i also lay awake at night constantly planning escape routes in case of fire and won't use a crock pot because it will burn down the house.

sure, i could have shredded those papers or just thrown them away but the fire called to me.

and damn if that wasn't a fire. as soon as i started throwing those letters into the burn barrel the flames just took over. i'm pretty sure at one point the whole barrel was glowing the fire was so hot.

and then after the last one was burned, after all the tears and all the processing and ALL the words ( i talk a LOT if you didn't know), as soon as it was all done, the full moon broke through all the clouds and the whole entire sky lit up like it was daylight and that weight on me was gone.

absolutely gone.

so. it's still been heavy shit this week.


i still feel like i'm not quite done breaking my brain and figuring out a few things.

but i'm getting there more and more each week.


huh. look at that. i DID know what to write.
 

marie kondo-ing the emotional closet

I feel like I've been spending the last long time, really long time, just, struggling through all this stuff and all my posts have been really melancholy.

Then I had a realization this morning: GIRL, you’ve been Marie- Kondoing your emotional closet. I have all this STUFF that I just walked away from. Forever. And I've never dealt with it. You just stick it in a little box and stuff it away in the closet. And of course it's going to be gross when you finally get around to dealing with all that. But you have to get rid of all that junk so you can make room for good new stuff. And I've been doing that. Going through that process. I did my entire house, I did my actual closet, i did my career. Now it's time to Marie Kondo my emotional closet!

And it is ugly. And it is...it's so hard. It is a Debbie Downer. It is...fuck, it's so emotionally draining and it's so hard going back and dealing with all that stuff that you just shoved in your emotional closet for the last 15, 20, 30...however many years. It's just been sitting there waiting. It doesn't go anywhere. It's kind of an asshole like that. Emotions and memories and bullshit. But I feel like I'm getting to the other side. And I feel like I've done a lot of good processing. This week I even tackled domestic violence. Sorted through a lot of my issues with that going back to...16 years ago. And I never dealt with it. Just had to stick it in the closet and keep going. And I've just been dealing with some of the really old horrible stuff that's just been sitting there. Taking up space. Taking up emotional energy. You keep checking to make sure it's still stuck in that little box somewhere, you just don't want to deal with it.

So I'm really excited that I feel like I'm coming out the other side of this. And I'm ready for good things and good experiences. I have all that bullshit gone. I got my emotional closet Marie Kondo CLEAN. And I feel like...I'm ready to just have space for good things. For good people. Positive things. Creative things. Good people and good emotions.

And now that I've...I can't even tell you how the other night going through all that domestic violence stuff...no joke, when they say it feels like a weight had lifted off you. Because GOOD. LAWD. I processed through all of that stuff and just TOOK A BREATH. I don't have to let that be part of my narrative anymore. I don't have to let that be my reaction going forward. And I don't have to have that box there sitting in the closet. I can let go of that and get rid of it. It's not used or useful. It doesn't bring me joy. GONE. It doesn't need to be a part of my life anymore. And that was...after 16 years...that was a pretty good moment.

So, I'm excited. This isn't going to be all sadsies and crying and drama.

But the first part will be. I'm sure I'm not quite done yet. I'm sure there's a few more boxes in the back of the closet that I haven't looked at yet. But I'm getting there. I'm able to get to those boxes now. The closet isn't stuffed full and overflowing and threatening to take over the entire house anymore. It's getting better. But if any of you have ever watched Marie Kondo, or cleaned, or purged or watched hoarders, you know sometimes it gets worse before it gets better. You gotta drag all that stuff out in the light and look at it first. And oof...it gets ugly. Really ugly. You don't realize how much is shoved in there til it's all sprawled out in front of you. And then you just go through it one by one.

And I'm almost there. I feel like I'm getting there. I feel like I've touched on a lot of the things that I've held onto for so long. And because I'm processing them now and actually acknowledging them and recognizing the good and the bad that they brought to my life and why I held onto them for this long? That's important- it is. And now I've been able to deal with that and now I can move on.

So, that's very exciting looking forward. It gives me good energy to keep up this project. I want it to be a good project. I want it to be an exciting 52 weeks. I want it to be fun things. I want it to be real things. Growing things. Learning things. I don't want it to be, like here's another week of me crying about something horrible that happened 20 years ago. And I feel like I don't have to do that any more. I got that all out of the way. So here's to moving forward on beautiful bright Saturday morning. Stella still has been sleeping in the sunshine all morning.

I'm slowly getting ready for the day. It's gorgeous out. And it's...things feel good. It's been a while. It's lovely to be able to say, especially in winter time. It's good. It means I've been working hard. And that means I've been making sure to fight the seasonal depression. And do the things I need to do to take care of myself. And I appreciate that effort me. Well done, high five to myself.

If you miss a high five to yourself it's a particularly embarrassing moment in your own life. Just so you know: WATCH THE ELBOW. If you watch the elbow you'll never miss a high five.