still looking. haven't found it yet.

christopher robin believed in his crew. his neurotic, depressed, hyperactive, pessimistic, bumbling crew. unfailingly.

i have the knock off version of this quote in my room, of course on an adorable decorative wooden box on a side table next to a salt lamp and another decorative wooden box with another particularly cliche quote. it's a very stereotypical mid-30's single white girl bedroom. bitches love their salt lamps. *correction: bitches love their pink himalayan ionized positive energy infusing salt lamps*

the knock off version of the quote changes it the required trademark 10% to read: i'm stronger than i seem, braver than i believe, smarter than i think.

as different as night and later that same night.

i bought it on a whim a few years ago hoping that maybe seeing the words every day i could convince myself of their message.

same theory with the tattoo on my collarbone that says: love yourself (literally IN MY SKIN but i still haven't been able to achieve that one quite yet either).

now most days i feel vagueishly smart. especially when creating my own words like vagueishly. IT IS TOO A WORD SPELLCHECK. i just used it in a sentence twice. fuck off.

but most days i do feel a little smart. sometimes i even see my bachelors degree in it's frame (of course placed right behind the decorative quote box) and *almost* convince myself that it's a real degree. that i actually had to EARN it. i mean- it's a literature degree. not like, you know, a rocket surgery degree or anything. i just had to read a bunch of books and write a bunch of papers. i've been doing that my whole life. but, i guess, since the college gave it to me, maybe i actually earned it.

yes, you read that right. there is a not-insignificant portion of time i'm convinced that a college just, like, gave me a degree because i paid all my tuition, didn't have to repeat any classes, and finished all 4 years.

but at least most days, degree smart or not, i at least feel some version of smart.

bravery- that one is a bit of a joke. i'm not brave. i mean, my dad and my brother are brave. 4 generations of cops in my family tree. they literally run at danger, all the time. they're brave. i have friends that travel all across the country, all the time, even as crazy as the world is right now. friends that have literally flown into war zones. i know people that fight illness, massive life devastation, they take on impossible tasks and jobs with no idea what the outcome may be. i know EMT's and firefighters that every. single. shift. is a test of their mettle. 

what do i do? paperwork. read books. make sure the teenager has food and long sleeved shirts. no wait...hoodies.  no wait, flannel long sleeve shirts with a hoodie. NO WAIT... (can you guess what the conversation at our house has been this week?)

i've maybe had moments of bravery. leaving my marriage was scary, but i did that. and i've sat in the ER with the kid without losing my shit. i guess that was...maybe not brave, but at least not a hot mess?

i'm sure there's another example. 

and strength. ha. strength. i really like to pretend i'm strong but my family always treated me with kidd gloves.

in the 90's my dad wrecked his patrol car. he hit a patch of black ice and it threw his car off the road. the glove box was found 50 yards from the car. he had a broken collarbone, a few broken ribs, a punctured lung. i wasn't told about it until after he was out of the hospital.

same thing with my brother- he wrecked his bike, had to have a craniotomy and be placed in a medically induced coma for two weeks. i found out after he was out of the coma and moved to ICU.

when my dad died they waited several hours then called my mom and had her come tell me in person.

they all insisted that i wouldn't have been able to handle the news any other way. they "didn't know how i would react," so they tried to keep it from me as long as they could. i've never really thought of myself as a delicate flower, but you know, they must know something i don't. maybe they remember something from my childhood. maybe i reacted to things badly then. i've blacked out a significant portion of everything before 17, so i really don't know. maybe they're assholes, maybe they know something i don't.

the point of all this endless self depreciation?

i'm like- i don't even know the words. i'm at this place. it's not the swamp of sadness. it's not even the pit of despair. it's like...the chilean mine shaft of failure.

i've been applying for jobs here and there, been on a few interviews, looking without LOOKING. i'm putting off an intense job search, but at the same time, the ones i have applied for haven't worked out, so, is *actually* looking going to go any better?

i have so little bravery, so little strength, so little faith in myself that i talk myself out of jobs before i even hit the apply button.

school tutor? i can't fucking do that. yeah, i have a college degree, but that's not what i WENT to college for. i mean, they probably want people that took education classes, not just english classes.

barista? i mean, yeah, i learned to make coffee and i love it. but i couldn't actually like WORK at a shop with rush hours and cranky customers. and i mean, i never really fully learned how to take down a machine. i'm sure there's MUCH more qualified people out there.

a part time office assistant? i can't do that. i'm sure their office isn't at all like all the others i've worked in. it's probably like, way busier and harder than any of the places. i'll fall behind and make a mess of things and not be able to figure out their systems.

THAT'S RIGHT. I CAN TALK MYSELF OUT OF A JOB I'VE BEEN DOING FOR 20 YEARS.

i have friends that believe in me and encourage me ALL THE TIME. i wish like fuck i could catch a sliver of a glimpse of what they see.

and i'm scared ALL. THE. TIME. lately.

i would love to start my own business but before i can even get the full concept of the business written down i've already started a list of 101 ways it will fail.

i would love to push myself to actually publish but i already have myself convinced that it's a waste of everyone's time to put together a book no one will read.

i just. i don't love myself like my shoulder says. i'm not stronger than i seem. i'm not braver than i believe. i'm not smarter than i think.

i want to be. i wish i could find that path for myself. i'm still looking. but i haven't found it yet.

i want to learn how to be my own christopher robin.

one small step

i took one small step today. no literally...small steps. i'm in 4" heels here people. they're ALL small steps!

so. i took one LARGE step today. the safety event today at work was about domestic violence and how it affects the work place.

and i went.

i wasn't sure i wanted to go. it's like (i would think) willingly going to watch an IED be detonated after having one blow up your bradley. sure, part of it might be healing in a way, but there's huge potential that it will just freak you the fuck out.

if you haven't seen my tattoo before, there SHOULD be a picture of it. notice the purple flower? that one is for _my_ battle with domestic violence. if you didn't know, all the colors are for different things that have impacted my family/me. they're things we've had to grow through...thus the growing up the calf...the gladiolas are strength of character...how much can you pack into one tattoo? you'd be surprised.

but today i went to the domestic violence presentation. turned out to be completely lame. a 20 minute video about how it affects the workplace and things we can do. and by completely lame i mean really good information, but it wasn't a personal speaker or a live re-enactment or something that would have really had explosive potential. so lame is good in this case.

but you know...i took that risk. i went, not knowing what it would be. i faced it. and came out the other side. so there is that.

seven years people. that's how long i've been away. and although i'm 98% healed it's surprising what the at final 2% can hold and when it can pop up again.

but the good news is i'm 98% better. and stronger. and braver. and less willing to take shit off someone. and more willing to stand up for myself. and 100% sure that i don't have to take it, ever again. and 100% sure that i WON'T take it ever again.

slightly ironic point: i'm wearing 4" heels today. and i went to a domestic violence presentation. one of the first things i had to do when i was married was get rid of all my heels because he didn't like me being taller than him. FUCK THAT. today...well, today i can tell you EXACTLY what i'd do with this 4" heel if anyone complained about it....and it wouldn't be throwing it away...