5 Truths

Five Truths I Know About Myself Right Now:

1. I am my own savior. 


2. I am beautiful


3. I have everything I need right now


4. "No" / "Failure" is not an option (but I am flexible when getting to my goals)


5. I LOVE MYSELF UNCONDITIONALLY

A Story of Lack and Loss

We've had a death in the family last week and my reaction to it has gotten me thinking. Me and death have a strange relationship wherein I don't view it as a goodbye or some great tragedy, but more like another way to transition to something else. This time, however, it struck a massive fear I've been moving through that had me paralyzed for a few days. Stay in bed all day, afraid to go outside and do things paralyzed. In bed I prayed, meditated, slept, read books on grief and self-help; yet there I was: terrified to move. It all came to me making myself sick and developing my very first migraine (I do not wish those on anyone). The migraine passed and I wept great tears for the loss of my family member, the loss of my way, and, finally, I began to feel better. I could get myself out of bed. I could talk to someone about how I felt... I could write about it too. 

This story I told myself while I was in bed is not new to me: the story of lack. Those shoulds and this is how it should be, all running, hiding from my feelings in the present and berating myself for not... whatever. While I am still sad about how my family member chose to end his life, the fact that I admit that I am feeling that way is a tremendous step on my part. To admit and more importantly allow myself to grieve has lifted my spirits immensely. The task of applying this same lesson towards other aspects of my life is my new and top priority in my personal development. I believe all will be well. 

Earning Submission

Sometimes... OK, a lot of times my thoughts turn towards submissiveness (I just rarely post them). I think of what submissive I want to be, and in all reality it is just an extension of myself. To be patient with a huge dose of snark are my ideal traits, but of course I'm flawed and so snark and stone are mostly present as of now. But that desire is there. The desire to please and have faith in another is very much present. To be rewarded with slaps and kind words spreads warmth between my legs just to write it.

This idea of earning my submission and being rewarded for it is huge for me. Two of my favorite eroticas With This Collar by Sierra Cartwright and The Saint by Tiffany Reisz have these traits in them: what the submissive does outside the bedroom affects how they are rewarded inside the bedroom. While I think I'm doing a fairly good job with drastic personal development, I like to think I can appreciate a man who would subtly turn me in the direction that would please us both equally. To me, that shows forethought and interest, as well as fearlessness and compassion.

It's pretty clear that it takes a strong type of woman to be submissive, and one word of criticism and all my squishy bits suddenly feel exposed and this fragile love I've built for myself evaporates. It begs the supreme question: am I really submissive without that outlet? Without that unrealistically high bar of strength I hold myself to? Sometimes I say "of course." Other times, the answer is "it is only a goal to achieve with the time is right."

Maybe it's a bit of both.

What a Rut

I've hit a bit of a lull in my life this week. Lots of sleeping, not reading, generally dropping most of the daily cleaning habits I've developed. Two things have really been building, weighing pretty heavily on my mind: dating and money.

By this point I should be pretty grateful how the Universe deals out my cards. Cerebrally I know no matter how bum-tastic the state of affairs feels right now, I have the tools to be my bad-ass self and pull my shit together. My feelings-- those sticky, icky bits-- are throwing a mega pity-party for themselves. Questions of adequacy and worthiness pop up all the time that give me pause in my decisions... hence the lull and temporary ineptitude to things other than work. I worry I don't have "enough" money. I worry that because of my severe muscle atrophy in my leg that I won't attract an active, dominant man... when that's the type of guy I ultimately want to be with. I worry that I'm not sexy or beautiful enough. I worry that I'll attract the wrong man just because I'm starting to get a wee lonely. So I've told myself the story of avoidance.

So how do I resolve these feelings of inadequacy and worthiness? I don't know, that's why I'm writing about it. The best thing to do (and what I've been eking out) is to go ahead despite my fears. Lemme just tell you, battle paint stains.

I Promise I Haven't Died

Well, as I've titled this post, I'm not dead. I just don't live a consistently exciting life or feel "in the mood" to write. That and my focus is elsewhere. Point being, I'm sorry to leave you all in the lurch with a rather sad post, but I have worked through many things and am doing quite well for the last month. Going forward I can promise posting will be spotty, at best, and even if I am having the sexy time (and a hoot of it too!), I can't promise I'll write about it.

So my May has been rather exciting and as far as personal development is concerned I'd say I'm turning out to be a smashing success! Is it a daily process? Of course it is, and I won't lie this has been a long journey. The best part is, I'm only just now touching the fringes of the type of life and person I want to be. Whereas before that knowledge made me scared, dissatisfied, and generally unhappy to move forward, now I find the notion fun, exciting, and, yeah, not quite "perfect."

BUT THAT'S OK. 

As a Class A Perfectionist I've lived most of my life with the "all or nothing, unrealistic goals" mentality. As you might imagine, this does not breed content or success. Throughout this month I've had to learn to love myself for who I am now (admittedly I am still working on that one), get to a point where I was satisfied with self-love and joy, move forward to acceptance and general contentedness of my surroundings, and finally (at least where I am currently) soothing and coaxing my anxiety of "perfectionism" to trust in the unknown, while still molding my life into my ideal.

... and now I've run out of things to say. Happy Summer!

Distractions

I've been having a tough time. Not just on the stuff that I have shared here but more. More that I am so scared of I can barely choke them out in therapy. I give this surface image of a semi-well adjusted weird but bubbly girl who has dreams despite the craziness. Who holds herself above water under pressure, pulling through with a certain kind of stoicism. But you want to know the awful, ugly truth?

I can bury it in a flash. I wasn't aware of it until recently. Something brings up some uncomfortable feelings? Oh look how amazing my life is! I'm on such a great path! This type of distraction is prevalent in other areas of my life, mostly appearing as "procrastination." A certain task makes me feel uncomfortable -- oh look! The dishes need to be done!

Writing this post is making me VERY uncomfortable. Why? I don't know. The phrase "stick with it" has been bouncing around in my head, but the moment I try and focus on a feeling it is almost like it dissipates like vapor. I've learned my unconscious ... it's been trained.

These are all just words, words vomited into the void as I can no longer keep them. I am full. I am empty. I desire to be filed with love and grace, but I have compacted my soul with so much pain, so much hurt, can love survive? I consume to numb the pain, I gag to pretend I can make it go away. No more room, it says, no more room. And thus my body quivers at the slightest provocation, the fear of falling, the unknown so strong. How can I not move forward without trust of change, of the unknown? I will submit to trust. I will open my soul, expose my most vulnerable parts and I will cry I AM AFRAID! Over and over. I am afraid, I am afraid, I am afraid. With each strangled cry of fear, each heartbeat I will feel the pain and let go. And accept the girl I am, no judgement.

I'm Pretty Sure Something's Not Right Around Here

Technically I do not turn another year older until 5:08am, but come midnight I wrote this disturbing entry:

I once believed Love existed, then I realized Love is cruel and callous. Love exists only if you love yourself, only if you have the capability for hope and bravery. The absence of Love is here, in my shallow heart. It is where coldness resides and a lump forms with each stroke of pen. The absence of Love grows within me for there is nothing and no one to Love. To cherish and appreciate. I am a ghost among men, among the mortals who feel and cherish the fragility and beauty of life. I, who bloom from the bowels of cynicism and distrust, laugh at your foolishness. I accept my loneliness, my disgust of fate and the cruelty of nothingness. I concede to oblivion. 

Clearly something is wrong; between sinking to a new low in my food neurosis, an increasing distrust of others, an even harsher criticism of myself, and a sense of superb instability (despite it looking like I've got my shit together)... I am officially in I'm freaking my fucking self out territory. Doesn't that sound fun? Not.