Nothing fancy today. No catchy DIY projects or bourgeois vegan recipes...just me getting my thoughts out, and sometimes that's important.
I have learned a tremendous deal about myself in the past year. Becoming a mother, maybe, does that to a woman. You stop thinking in terms of "me" and more in terms of "us." You start considering the legacy you're going to leave.
I used to be immature. I used to be insecure. I used to be the kind of girl who allowed the fear of rejection to inhibit my ability to TRY. Like so many others, I went through a rough time in my life, a time of fear and pain and rebuilding my life and building the Great Wall of China around myself. Not many people know about that time. Then again, in past years, not many people knew ANYthing about me. I thought I liked it that way, until one day I broke down in the Sears parking lot on my cell phone, to my husband. I'd just moved for the umpteenth time, this time in with him, to a foreign little town where people used a weird thing called "two-way" and everyone was on some volunteer fire department or another and middle-aged women needed the fashion police. I broke down and broke down and broke down. Over and over. I'd managed for a considerable amount of time to hold it together, and then I just couldn't anymore.
The thing is, in the span of four years I'd fled my tumultuous homestead for my original hometown and a boyfriend I was convinced at 18 would save me from my penchant for reckless abandon, got a house with him and two dogs plus eight strays plus furniture, got myself into trouble, got another house with him in hopes we could "fix it," tried to be the mediator for my parents' divorce three hours away during my dad's job loss and my mom's immediate move into some other guy's house, battled an eating disorder, watched my dad battle cancer, quit school twice, drank too much, met a charming but ultimately abusive new boyfriend who threatened to kill me on numerous occasions and stole all my worldly possessions, left my life to move in with my mom and her new boyfriend where my ex boyfriend stalked me and half my life was spent in court or the sheriff's department, worked several horrid jobs, met another abusive boyfriend, met the third abusive boyfriend, etc. Amazing, because during that time, nothing felt so awful.
Then I moved in with my best friend, became a manager for my company, started writing the novel I'd dreamt of penning since age six, became spiritual, found a passion for health and fitness, and met my husband who is a wonderful man with a work ethic from the stars. So WHY in heaven's name did I crash and burn when things were good? I'm sure there are all kinds of psychological reasons for this kind of thing, but I think once life SLOWED DOWN I didn't know how to handle it. When things were smooth, I sabotaged them. I saw red and took it out on people who were NOT the people who caused me to see red. I was basically a little bitch. I knew no other emotion but rage. If you've never felt rage, consider yourself lucky. It's disgusting.
In the past year, I made a commitment to get happy and help people. My friend Ashley is a therapist who must have been sent from GOD to find me and make me realize all kinds of insightful and life-changing things about myself. The first time I divulged all the sordid details to her and cried, it hit me that I hadn't CRIED in who knows how long. It hit me that I wasn't angry, I was SAD. I decided to embark on this great journey to fix myself. Really, it came out of what I'd always loved doing: writing and fitness. Along the way, nutrition came into play. I got crafty. I became a mom to the sweetest thing ever. I started connecting with people again and realizing it felt like ice on a black eye instead of an invasion. I came to the conclusion that happiness is a choice. Trust me, I know many people don't see it that way, and I certainly didn't either, but THINK about it: we CHOOSE who we surround ourselves with, we CHOOSE the dreams we go after and the dreams we don't, we CHOOSE to stay in bad situations out of fear or greed, we CHOOSE to react with a chip on our shoulder, we CHOOSE to say shitty things about other people. Likewise, we CHOOSE to find the lesson in every hardship, we CHOOSE to go outside of our comfort zone, we CHOOSE to work on our personal development, we CHOOSE to give a compliment or a donation or an offer of assistance, we CHOOSE to live our lives with grace despite our fear of the unknown.
I want to be the kind of woman my daughter is proud of. I want her to grow up knowing that everything is possible with kindness and good karma and hustle and love. I want to be healthy and make choices that are based on providing myself and my family with a life comprised primarily of joy. I CHOOSE to wake up grateful for a day many people don't get to have.
I was sparked to write this because I noticed something recently: the more self-assured I become, the more people come out of the woodwork to tear me apart. More people tell me, "Oh, but it's just easy for you. It's not that way for ME." And it came to me that I used to be THAT PERSON. Maybe not out loud. But in my head, I told myself I just wasn't good enough to be as fit or as rich or as happy as so-and-so. And it felt better to be mean.
Au contraire, I have also met so many INCREDIBLY supportive people who have found their own contentedness or passion and are very happy to pass on the bug to everyone they meet, including me. I have chosen to spend more time with THESE people, and less time with the vampires. And to all you sweet and passionate and caring people, thank you--not just from me, but from ALL of the people who you inspire and don't even know you're inspiring.
I don't look down on mean people. I understand their sadness. And I want to help them ditch the excuses and move past the enormity of their pain and realize they DESERVE to live a life bursting with incredible revelations.
Nobody can make that choice but you.
"I'm so full of confetti I could give birth to paper dolls."
-Zelda Fitzgerald
