A Little Bit of Inspiration on a Sunday Afternoon...

What does love look like?

I posed a question on my Facebook page yesterday and was overwhelmed by the response.  The question was "What is real love? What does it look like? What does it feel like?"

I didn't expect a clear answer.  Philosophers and poets have been trying to define love for centuries, coming close, but never quite hitting the mark.  Why?  Because love looks, feels, sounds, smells and tastes different to every soul in the universe.  It can't be defined.  I know this.  So why, then, did I pose the question?  For several reasons, I guess.  Because sometimes people who aren't philosophers and poets can sometimes come up with better answers to the really tough questions and because I think I wanted some solidarity.  To know that there are some others out there who are just as lost as I am.

I was amazed at some of the beautiful answers I was given in response to a very difficult question...


Rachel Clemons Guarino It's like when you had your babies and there's a moment (however short lived) that you are overwhelmed, amazed, and surer then you've ever been about anything.. Embodied with devotion and love. I found my love two years ago and thinking about him is overwhelming to me.. Sometimes so charged I feel nauseous! It's the only thing I can compare it to is that moment a few days after having Lil just knowing my life and love is hers. It's bigger then me, it's the universe, it's magic. It's everything.



Candace Todd 

Real love is involuntary and unstoppable. It will find you when you least expect it. It will begin w/ only a spark and keep burning hotter and growing stronger! It's when you've learned every mistake someone has made, every flaw they have, and all your differences, and still think they're absolutely amazing! An addiction that completely consumes your heart, mind, and soul. The feelings you feel are genuine, unique, and above anything you've ever felt. It will make you go against anything you promised yourself, and change any plans you had. Your biggest desire is to do whatever it takes to keep it and protect it. It has no certain look, or description.... It doesn't have to because somehow ( that cant be explained ) you just know!

Loretta Lewis Real love is what you feel for that child you carried in your stomach and close to your heart for 9 months. It looks like that baby you hold for the first time, that toddler you chase after, that teenager you worry about and that young woman you give away to be loved by another person. It feels like your chest is going to explode with happiness, sadness, fear, and wonder everytime you think of your child, see your child, hold your child, leave your child.


Star Peimbert Like being ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!


Karen Allen Poole It feels like home! No matter where you are or what's going on around you. If that person is beside you, you are home! That goes for spouses, children, parents, who ever makes you feel like you are at home. ♥


Random Thoughts n' Lotsa Coffee Real love. It is knowing, without knowing, it is that fit, the melding of souls that can't be seen only felt. It is the feeling of a part of your soul becoming whole as it seamlessly fits with another. It is not work, there is no effort... it simple happens on a karmic level. It is the feeling of coming home, of finding some part of yourself that you didn't even realize it was missing until you find it. There is no question, there is no doubt. True real love simply, is. You hear it in a sigh, you see it in a gaze, you sense it while in its presence. Like air, it just simply is. It is the feeling of being whole. ~Jenn




Here's my problem though...These are all beautiful answers and I get them on an intellectual level, but on an emotional level, I draw a complete blank.  the only ones that come close are the ones about a mother's love.  That one I get.  I would maim, murder and destroy anyone who hurt my child and knew that in my core the moment the nurse handed her to me (and I don't even kill bugs).  But even that one only goes so far, because I am just waiting for the day that she realizes that I, in fact, did not hang the moon and that my kisses won't heal every hurt.  What happens when she figures out that mommy is a deeply flawed human being and she doesn't like me anymore?


I asked my very patient husband the same question.  I laughed at the answer he gave me, because I interpret it in a very different way.  He said that love is like a black hole.  You can't see it.  It's just there.  And it's huge and sweeps everything into it.  To be honest, I don't remember anything else he said because my brain got lost in my own version of that analogy.  I am a black hole for love.


I suck love in and it can't get out...it's lost forever.  No one knows what happens to it, it's just gone.  I don't know how to give it back.  I have this unexplained gravitational pull surrounding me, calling people in.  The smart ones get out before they get sucked in and lost forever.


And that right there, is why I am in therapy.  


I will say this about love... There is one way I know unconditional love exists and I feel it every day.  I think the only soul capable of truly unconditional love is a dog.    

What happens when she finds out I didn't hang the moon?

When does life begin?

When I was sixteen I remember thinking I couldn't wait for my life to begin.  Soon I would be in college, on my own, no rules, no oppressive family life to overcome.  Childhood gone and forgotten.  I could finally start MY life.


Then I was eighteen, and in college.  Soon, my life would begin.  I would finish classes and get my degree.  I would start a career and not have to worry about where my next meal would come from or how I would cover next semester's tuition.  I would be a grown up.  My life would finally begin.


Then I got pregnant and dropped out of college.  It was unplanned, as most things are, but at least then my life would begin.  I started to plan.  I was alone, though not for long or so I thought.  As fate often does, it had other plans for me and I lost the baby at sixteen weeks.  My life didn't begin.  


I wandered around the country, mostly following a man, for six years, selling roses and grooming jousting horses  at renaissance faires, waiting for my life to begin.  I had lovers.  I had drugs.  I had a romantic -albeit dirty- gypsy life.  I had fun.  What did I have to lose?  I was still waiting for my life to begin.  


I hit my mid-twenties, still waiting.  I watched my friends get married, have children, have careers, have lives, while I had crap jobs and piece of shit boyfriends who still lived with their parents.  I was running out of time.  Somewhere in my mind I heard this quiet ticking.  Not a biological clock, mind you.  I knew I wasn't ready for babies.  I still liked to party.  I still wanted to have fun and be young.  But in my mind, my life wouldn't begin until I had someone to share it with.


To this day, I wonder where that came from.  I was surrounded by young, brilliant, successful women who had careers and lives completely independent of any man.  They were not defined by their relationships.  I left home at a very young age because I knew I could BE one of those women, yet I found myself needing to tie myself to a man in order to feel like I could start my life.


At twenty-seven I moved back to a place I feared and loathed...home.  So my life could finally begin.  Surprise, it didn't.  I worked dead-end job after dead-end job, dating loser after loser, hoping maybe the next loser would be the one to bring me up out of my hole.  Maybe this loser would marry me and my life would finally begin.


At thirty I did meet someone and I got so extraordinarily lucky, I still have a hard time believing it.  He was not a loser.  He is a good guy.  A great guy.  We were married a year later.  Parents a year after that.  And you know what?  I am still sitting here waiting for my life to begin.


That last sentence sums it all up.  I am sitting here.  Waiting.  It has taken me thirty-eight years, countless hours of therapy, too many drugs to list, journals full of pitiful tears and the verge of divorce for me to finally realize that my life isn't just going to begin.  I have to MAKE IT BEGIN.  It sounds so simple, doesn't it?  I think it's about time I get off my ass and start my life, don't you?  


    

Teaching an Old Dog an Old Trick

Today my daughter tried to teach me how to play.  Play what?  Just play.  It seems I've forgotten, or I never learned, one of the two.  But whenever she asks me to play with her I go into a bit  of a panic and always seem to find something else to do.  Something more important, like check Facebook or pretend to clean the kitchen, or watch television.  Something always more important that her, at least that's how she sees it, and rightly so.  I was terrified.  But I did it.

I let her put make up on me.  I put on a party dress.  I put on high heels.  We danced around the kitchen and acted like children.  And you know what?  I had fun.  The house stayed standing and the only one who laughed at me was my daughter.  My daughter who is wise beyond her years.  She saw that I was struggling.  She knew I was so far out of my element that all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide.  She asked me why I couldn't play.  I told her it was because I didn't know how.

I tried as best as I could, without coloring her wonderful opinion of her grandparents, to explain to her that when I was a little girl I was never really allowed to play.  That there was always better things to do.  I should be cleaning or doing something productive.  There was no time for play.  So now, when it comes to having fun, my instant reaction is that there are better things to do.  But soon, my daughter won't want to play.  Soon she will want to do everything on her own.  Too soon, she won't need or want mommy around anymore.  I will have missed it.  So I better get over my issues and get down on my hands and knees and learn how to play if it kills me.  It probably won't.

Spring Broken

I'm sitting in a hotel room in North Carolina. My daughter and I are on spring break. Just she and I. Her and me. The kiddo and the mommy. All the time. No off button. No daddy. 100% quality time. I suck at this.

I'm a good mom, don't get me wrong. I can do the mommy thing. But when it's just the two of us and I am expected to entertain her the entire time, I start to lose my shit a little. I can't think of what to do. I want to curl up in fetal position and pray that she'll just watch TV for a little while, but NO...she wants to DO stuff. She wants to play. She wants to go places. But she's five. So the things she wants to do and the places she want she wants to go don't always jive with what I want to do.

I'm trying to be cool mommy. Go with the flow, super fun, think Lorelai Gilmore. But there's a reason we never saw 'Gilmore Girls: The Kindergarten Years' Because five year olds are damn hard to please. Even pleasant, cute, well-behaved ones like mine. They are still short terrorists.

I'm only on day two. So far I've been mostly rescued by the company of a new friend, but the rest of the time, I'm on my own. We may cut this trip short. But here's the rub... spring break is about to become permanent.

Soon enough it will just be she and I. Her and me. The kiddo and the mommy. All the time. Not just on spring break but every day. No one at six o'clock for me to say "Here - this is yours." Always the one to entertain. Always on.

I am afraid that I won't be able to cut it. I am a damn good mom. But what if I'm not good enough? What if I can't be her everything all the time? What if I screw her up? What if we don't survive spring break?

I have a too many pets. And yes, they are a pain ass.

There.  I said it.  I have two dogs, one of which is a Great Dane coming in at just under 200 lbs.  I have 4 cats, 2 fish and a mouse.  Sometime they piss me off.  And I love each and every one of them.  Why am I telling you this?  Because I am getting ready to move across the country and I have to find a rental property and it is proving quite difficult to find a decent place with my brood.  Any time I mention it, the first words out of everyone's mouths are "just get rid of them."  To which I reply with a resounding "Fuck off."

Would it be infinitely more convenient to not have them? Yes.  It would be a lot more convenient to not have my kid, too, but that's not an option either.  Each of these souls came into my life for a reason.  They picked me.  That may sound ridiculous to some of you, but not to me.  I don't take in every stray.  I don't belong on an episode of Animal Hoarders.  There are some days I'd like to kick them all to the curb, right along with the kid.  But I can't.  They are mine.  And I love them.

When you bring a pet into your home it is for their entire life.  They are yours and you are theirs.  Not just until they become inconvenient, or your life changes, or whatever the excuse may be.  So yeah, I may bitch about my animals, especially in relation to my living situation, but please, don't tell me to get rid of them.  Thanks.

Girl Power: Then and now

Almost 20 years ago I did a self portrait for a college design course.  I combined my skills in metal work with my love of water colors to create a (very) short book.  I wanted, needed, anyone to see the pain I was in.  The irony of the whole thing is that, at the time,  I thought all of my pain was behind me.  I thought my life was about to begin.  It was college, after all.  That's when life is supposed to begin.  I had found Jesus.  Little did I know I hadn't found Jesus at all.  I had found a group of people whose main purpose was to make people feel unworthy, unloveable, unloveable and unclean.  I was so un, it was unbelievable.

I found this 'church' through my boyfriend at the time.  I left the church after the pastor told him not to marry me because I would never be submissive enough.  Boy, was he right!  I guess that church did me at least one favor.  I'm still mad at those people for ruining Christianity for me, but that is another story in itself.  It isn't this one.  I am happy in my faith now.  It fits me like my own skin and really, what more could you ask for?

This story is about that book and a self portrait written 20 years ago that still applies, but for different reasons.  Fate is a funny little bitch, isn't she?

Made of brass, each piece hand cut and together soldered together.  The image represents a rising sun (Dawn), with a child's hand holding on to the fingers of a parent.

At the time, it symbolized my difficult relationship with my parents, whom I had little to no contact with at the time, as well as my new found relationship with God.  

Now?  Now all I see is my relationship with my beautiful, bright little girl.  That no matter what she and I will weather anything that comes our way.  That child gives me hope with every rising sun.

And so begins our story...

     

(No Title)

A small child lies waiting for a loving mother to hold her.  The mother never comes, yet the child, she grows anyway.

A hand reaches out of nowhere, yet everywhere, to push the child unwillingly through life.

Many faces surround the frightened child.  Some smiling, most not.  Their eyes reaching into her mind and pulling out her courage, making her want to fight.

She wants to fight, but not alone. From behind something bigger than herself.

As she grows, she ventures out from behind her protector more and more. She is confident that she can stand on her own.

From out of nowhere, yet everywhere, objects are hurled at the girl who stands frightened, taking the abuse.  She longs for the strength she was given once and cries out.

Then I woke up.

So what does it all mean and how have things changed in twenty years?  Everything has changed and nothing has changed.  I am still confused and lost and abused, but I am stronger and smarter and I know what I want.  I have a better idea of who I am and more important, of who I want to be.  And that makes all the difference.

There is still a part of me waiting for my mom to love me, but there is a bigger part of me that accepts that she really does.  It also makes me want to be a better mother every day...for my daughter to never doubt for a second, even when she hates me, which she will, how much I love her. 

There's still that scared little girl who feels attacked at evert turn, forced to make decisions even when I'm not ready to.  I don't think that ever changes.  I still feel the pressure to fight my way through every situation, but I care less and less what others think and more and more what I think.  That is huge for me.  I am no longer fighting alone.  I have my baby to fight with me, and to fight for.  

I am confident and strong.  I can take on the world, no matter what is hurled at me.  I will still and always need a hand and am so grateful that the security I am walking away from will always have my back and be my best friend.  I am a lucky woman.  

I am awake.

What I've been doing all week instead of laundry...

Unconditionally with Conditions

Another great post written by Jenn at RandomThoughts N' Lotsa Coffee...

           You really can't love unconditionally. People can burn and beat love out of you.
             They really can kill it, and it's not your fault you don't feel it any more, and
               how liberating it is to finally realize that. Love isn't for better or worse,
                               through thick or thin. It damn well shouldn't be..
                                                                        Dr. Kay Scarpetta, Red Mist. By:Patricia Cornwell

Everyone is always searching for that elusive unconditional love. The older I get the more I realise that it is a myth. The premise that unconditional love is impossible will have some people shaking their heads at me, I know. But if you stop and think about it, how can you love another person without conditions. Why would you really even want to?  It is the ultimate sacrifice of you. To give someone that much control really is to say, go ahead hurt me, lie to me, abuse me, use me and I will still love you. Ummm, no. Well not in my world anyway. I love my husband with every ounce of my being. I love his good points, his strength, his integrity, his dedication and I love his flaws...the ever procrastinating, the channel flipping, the hours he works. I love all of him. I don't try to change him, mold him or want him to be anything other than who and what he is. I love him unconditionally…with conditions.  I love the man he is and the man he wants to be.  Unless that man one day decides to hurt me, then its game over. People never walk into a relationship and settle down expecting the worse to happen, ok well most of us don't... but as the adage goes, Shit Happens.  If one day he were to morph into Captain Asshole, then those conditions would come into play. 

Love should mean, love me for me, flaws and all. Don't try to change me into someone else, trust in me, challenge me, and allow me to grow. Love my independence and my spontaneity. It should mean that you can count on me to always be faithful, always love you for who you are, to always challenge you and be excited to watch you grow. I will unconditionally love you for you, unless that you changes for the worse and then well, there are conditions. Man or woman doesn't matter; we all should enter into relationships with established conditions, and love unconditionally only as long as those conditions are being met. Why would you sacrifice yourself, allow yourself to be abused, because you unconditionally love your partner, husband, wife, lover? There is no honor in selling yourself short.

For better or worse, through thick and through thin, in this day in age are being taken totally to literal. Granted every relationship has its ups and downs in the normal course of life and that is fine, you weather those and become a stronger couple. Life happens and stress occurs. But if these stresses, lead to your wife cheating on you, or your boyfriend taking all his aggravations out on you, physically or mentally, then why would you continue on with this person?  You can't love without conditions in a marriage or relationship because to do so is like selling your soul.

I asked on my facebook page last week, what people thought about unconditional love. Their answers surprised me not going to lie. They for the most part said it doesn't exist. Unless it was the love of a parent to a child, and even then that doesn't happen all the time. But that is a whole 'nother blog.  I think though that I loved one woman's response the best, she said the only unconditional love that existed, was the love of a dog.  I think she may be on to something there.  I do have to say that there is one form on unconditional love that I do believe in, and that is to love yourself.  You may beat yourself up, get angry at yourself over mistakes, but you have to always love yourself.  That isn't the easiest thing to do, I know, believe me I know.

Always love unconditionally...with conditions. For the simple reason, you are worth the sun, the moon and the stars...and no one should ever have the power to hurt you

My Vagina Is Not Big Enough for the State of Virginia

Virginia, Idaho, Illinois (introduced by the House Agricultural Committee?!?), Kentucky, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, and Texas have all recently passed legislation mandating either an ultrasound or a trans-vaginal ultrasound prior to receiving abortion services.  What's the big deal?  The gel might be a little cold.  Or, perhaps when I have made the gut-wrenching decision to choose to terminate my pregnancy for any number of reasons, none of which are anybody's business, I would prefer to NOT have a wand shoved up my vagina AGAINST my will because you think I am too stupid to understand the consequences of my decision.

I won't even touch the fact that the lawmakers who are pushing this particular bit of legislation are predominately opposed to the federal healthcare act, are the loudest when it comes to the issues of contraceptive coverage and feel that the government oversteps our civil liberties.  No, I'm going to touch that last one.  You whine about your religious freedom and big government, yet you can't seem to keep your government out of my vagina? Hypocrites.  

Back to the point at hand...whether you like it or not, women are granted the right to choose to terminate a pregnancy.  It is every woman's CHOICE.  It would be wonderful to never be in the position to have to make that choice.  But shit happens.  And when I say shit, I don't mean it is mildly inconvenient to have a child.  I mean a whole multitude of factors that come into play when making this decision.  I'm sure they are out there, but I have never met a woman who has used abortion as a form of birth control.  EVER.  It is NOT a form of birth control.  It is painful and sad and traumatic.  It is heart-wrenching and psychologically difficult to recover from.  It is not a decision that is made lightly.  Did I mention EVER?

So when a state comes in with a law that says a doctor must rape me in order to make me understand the gravity of the decision I have made, that makes me a tad angry.  Am I being over-dramatic by using the word rape?  I don't think so.  By inserting something into my body without my consent, a doctor is committing rape.  As an emissary of the state, the state is committing rape every time a doctor inserts that wand.  

I would love for women to never have to deal with this.  Nothing would make me happier than no more unwanted pregnancies.  But with increasing restrictions on preventative healthcare and women's issues being hurled back to the fifties, I don't see that happening any time soon.  I am not pro-abortion.  I don't think many pro-choice activists are.  I love seeing other choices exercised (key word there being choice).  I like babies just as much as the next person.  But I also accept that what is right for me may not be right for you and vice versa.  So please, law makers and everyone else who thinks they get a say in what I do with my body, please, with all due respect, GET THE HELL OUT OF MY VAGINA.

Burning Bridges

I asked a friend to do a guest post for me tonight since I've been having bit of blogger's block.  I'm going through a bit of a time in my life right now, with many huge changes on the horizon.  Had I been able to write the following post myself, I would have.  Thanks, Jenn at Random Thoughts 'n Lotsa Coffee for enlightening us with your beautiful thoughts and your insightful words.

Burning Bridges

I can't sleep at night.

I toss and turn.

I keep losing sight of the lessons I've learned.

I'm standing at the crossroads with just one concern.

Which bridge to cross and which bridge to burn?

I need to reach a decision and get on with the rest of my life.

-Vince Gill

At one point in our lives we have all been faced with this decision...do you leave the bridge standing, do you cross it and never look back or do you burn that bridge and all that it represents and forge a new path of your life? Do you even cross that bridge? That bridge over the course of your lives could represent any number of life's lessons. Bad relationships, jobs, toxic friendships, life's status quo. At one point you find yourself in a situation where you have to either cross that bridge and start a new chapter, choose a different path and leave it standing just in case or cross the bridge and burn it with the finality of never ever going back. 

This is one of the hardest Life lessons we are faced with. Which bridge to cross, and which bridge to burn. If we walk away from a situation in our lives and leave that bridge standing, it allows ourselves the option of returning to what it was the drove us away in the first place. We can always go back if crossing this bridge didn't work out.. kind of a  safety net to catch us if we fail. Sometimes this is ok.. to leave that option open, but when is it not? When is it time to torch that bridge to our past? When do we finally decide that enough is enough and we will never go back. Back to a certain person or situation that drove us across the bridge in the first place.  How many times do we get right up to the entrance of that bridge.. and panic or second guess ourselves and turn around, never even taking that first step.

What is the driving force behind us that even gets us to this point. How do you know when enough is enough and it is time to move on, no more second,third,fifty chances..That internal struggle is different for each of us, but the same too. We all battle the same question..when is it time to walk away? We never really want to give up on someone, or something in our lives, but there comes a time when we really do not have a choice. Its not healthy for us to stay, we are unhappy or unfulfilled, we begin to refuse to sacrifice ourselves and stand up for what we need.

Over the years I have faced  my own share of bridges. Some I have crossed and left standing because maybe at that particular time something minor wasn't right for me, but maybe after some time had passed, I would like to be able to return. I  made the decision to walk away based on feelings or where I was in my life at the time.  This is usually the case, but there have been a couple that I have decided needed to be burned to the ground.  Usually the ones that I have burned have been to people that were to toxic to want in my life any more. I had gotten to that point of no return, where I had tried and tried to make things work and had failed. It takes a lot to get me personally to this point, but it happens and I am ok with that.  What I had to figure out though was, when was enough..enough? 

Is there ever really a solid point when you realize that you can't do it anymore? Does it build up and build up until that proverbial straw breaks your back? Is it one event that opens your eyes and asks..what are you still doing here? Honestly I have had both. That lighting bolt from my subconscious that said.. The time to move on is now! Other times it has be gradually over time and once it took me 30 years to figure out. I guess it depends on the person or situation.  Nothing in life is black and white, there are always shades of gray and in those shades of gray is our life.. it is the balance between doing what is right and what is right for ourselves. Therein lies the Lesson that life is teaching us.  We can't always do what is right for others, we must come to a point where we do what is right for ourselves. Burn down that bridge and move on. Others in your life may not get it or understand and that's ok,  you can explain to them or not. I usually say that I needed to honor my self, my life and made the decision to stay or go based on that. While people may not understand, if they love you they should respect it.

Burning Bridges is something at one point we all must do in our life time, usually more then once.  We all have the strength inside of us to make this decision, to know when to walk away, what we just need to realize is that it is ok. Staying true to yourself is so important that sacrificing it to a job you hate, a bad relationship or family member that crosses the line is never really an option for long without losing that one thing that is so worth fight for, starting over for... and that is, you.

©Jennifer Manning, Random Thoughts n’ Lotsa Coffee

Do you choose a new path, not knowing what's ahead?

Blogger Boredom

I'm bored.  I have absolutely no motivation today.  I could be doing laundry, cleaning something, playing with my kid, even shopping.  Nope.  I am sitting at the computer staring at Facebook, waiting for someone to post something clever or for someone to reply to something clever I have posted.  What a waste of a beautiful Saturday.

It is sunny and gorgeous outside.  Unseasonably warm... what the hell am I doing?  My daughter is watching the smurf movie for the bajillionth time, my husband is two feet away from me but in his own blogosphere, and I have yet to get out of my pi's.

I don't even have anything creative or especially funny or angry or, dare I say, enlightening to write about.  I have nothing.  Nothing except an overwhelming desire to not get off my ass.  And what better way to do that but type?  Pathetic.

That's it.  I don't care what anyone else posts on Facebook today.  It may be life-changing.  It may be mind-blowing.  I may only get a brief chuckle before slipping back into a coma...I'm outta here.  Any minute now.  Logging off.  Unplugging.  Stop typing.  sfgdjhghjklghjklsdfjgkjfdhsgk *head hitting keyboard*

    

Kamikaze Blogging: A Topic Handed to Me on a Silver Platter

        After three months of hiding out in the blogosphere virtually unnoticed, I begged and pleaded some other bloggers to help me get to 500.  You know that old saying ‘Be careful what you wish for’?  Well, I got my 500 and more! I couldn’t be happier!  As a ploy to sucker everyone in, I promised that my 500th liker would be able to choose my next blog topic.  Monique is the proud winner of no cash and I’m not sure if she’ll like her prize, but here is the topic she chose as her ‘soapbox issue of the morning’...

     “My 6 year old thinks she's fat because she has a normal pooch of baby fat she gets before a growth spurt *grrrrrr society*”

     Why do I say she handed me this on a silver platter?  Two reasons: I have an almost 6 year old who is obsessed with the mirror, and I also struggle minute by minute with my own body issues.  I think most women do.  It’s how we are wired.  So how do we go about raising daughters who are confident, self-assured and completely kick-ass when most of us look in the mirror every day and see nothing but our flaws?

     I do not know, nor have ever met a single woman who is completely satisfied with every part of her body.  For me, my butt’s too big, my tummy’s too flabby and covered in stretch marks, I have dark circles under my eyes and my legs are too short.  Here’s the thing though... I look great in heels, my eyes are a beautiful shade of cornflower blue, when I smile the circles disappear and no man has ever complained about my curves.  I can also sing, write, am a good photographer and take in strays to a fault.  See what I just did there?  That works on paper (or in a motivational blog) but it’s considerably harder in practice.  Which brings me to my point...

     I think our little girls think they aren’t perfect because they see and hear mommy rant about her *insert horrible flaw here*.  They learn from example.  Though some of us are very careful to never let our daughters hear our own negativity, others aren’t.  Worse, other mothers are like my mother and tell their daughters how fat they are.  Then those little girls go to school and tell other little girls how fat they are and here we have our vicious cycle.  

     How do we stop it?  How do we protect our beautiful daughters?  How do we raise them to be completely and supremely bad-ass?  Hell if I know.  I struggle with it every day, but I have a few ideas...

• Stop the negativity!  Don’t let your daughter hear you call yourself *too* anything.  Ever.
• Tell her she’s beautiful and awesome and amazing and a rockstar and super and everything else WAY TOO MUCH - because way too much is still never enough.
• Help her stay healthy by eating right and living an active lifestyle.  Whether she’s naturally thin or not, starting good habits early will give her a great life.
• Lead by example.  Eat right. Exercise. Be kind to yourself.  If your daughter sees you love yourself, she’ll learn that it’s okay to love herself too.

     And when she does come home crying because some nasty little girl whose mom isn’t as cool as you calls her fat, listen to her, love her, tell her she’s beautiful, have her look in the mirror and point out every awesome thing about herself and even more important, have her point out all the awesomeness she can’t see in the mirror - like how she aces all of her math tests or how well she can draw or how kind she is.  You get my point.  Because it’s not just what’s on the outside that makes her beautiful, but what’s on the inside matters a whole lot more.    

     Women are hard wired to believe that our worth lies only in what others can see on the outside.  Let’s try to change that for our daughters.  Pretty please?

She should always know she's absolutely amazing and my favorite thing in the whole wide world.

   

Precipice

Precipice: noun 1: a very steep or overhanging place  2: a hazardous situation; broadly : brink

I stand on a precipice.  I am on the brink. The brink of a whole new life.  I am choosing to walk away from a life of security and complacency toward a life that is infinitely more terrifying, yet hopeful.  My motives and my sanity have been questioned, and fairly so. Were I to look at someone else in my position doing what I am doing, I would probably question their motives and their sanity as well.  I am here today to assure everyone, including myself that my motives are pure and that I am as sane as I have ever been...which may not be saying much, but there it is.

So why?  Why am I walking away from a stable life, a man who is kind, a beautiful home, a spoiled existence?  What crazy person chooses to leave security for the great unknowable?  This crazy person.  I am not happy.  I don't think I have ever been happy. I'm not sure I know how to be happy.

Don't get me wrong- I have had moments of pure joy.  The day my daughter was born. My wedding day.  Mind-blowing sex.  And maybe that's all there is.  Maybe life is only monotony strung together with brief moments of joy that are few and far between.  Maybe it's not supposed to be joy broken up by brief moments of monotony.  But I cannot accept that.  

I need to know that my life can have hope.  I need to know great love.  Not just a love that is safe and consistent - I want that too - but a love that takes my breath away every time I look into his eyes.  I have to believe a love like that can exist.  If it doesn't, then what is the point?

For me, beyond that great love with someone else, I must find that great love of myself.  I have waited my entire life for someone to love me enough.  It has taken me almost 38 years to realize that someone else's love will never be enough, at least not until I can love myself enough.  God, that sounds cheesy.  But it's true.  From a crappy childhood, to a crappy adolescence, to a crappy young adulthood, to an actually pretty decent adulthood, I have waited.  Waited for my parents to love me enough.  Waited for a man to love me enough.  When a man came along who finally did love me enough, surprise! it wasn't enough.  Why?  Because I can't stand me, so how could I expect anyone else to love me?  

So here I stand, for the world to see.  On the brink of a new life.  Terrified.  Sad.  Lonely.  Hopeful.  Now, I just need to find a place to live.

 A precipice isn't always a fall; sometimes it's a climb. 

That Pesky First Amendment

Dear Msgr. Mr. Santorum,

Perhaps I have been watching too much CNN lately.  Maybe the liberal, elite media has gotten to me.  I've heard you discuss everything from your blue-collar roots to contraception to higher education snobbery.  I understand and reluctantly accept that you are shouting to your conservative base- those passionate few that care enough to come out to vote in the primaries.  While it concerns me that the more moderate i.e. majority of the GOP choose to stay home leaving the choice of their ultimate candidate to the right wing extremists, I accept it as reality.

What I cannot accept is the vitriolic rhetoric claiming that this government, my government has been corrupted by Satan and needs to ascribe to biblical law.  While I have no argument that this government has been corrupted by something - greed, arrogance, entitlement, etc. - I cannot say if Satan had a hand in it or if it is just the natural failings of humanity.  I tend to believe the latter.  Which leads me to my point...

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.  -1st Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America

That pesky first amendment, whether by a liberal interpretation or a conservative one, states quite clearly that no laws will be made respecting (or disrespecting, for that matter) any specific religion.  It also says that you have the right to believe whatever you want, but that I, too, may believe whatever I want.  Even if what I believe isn't in your bible.  What I may not do is attempt to alter any laws so that they may follow any specific dogma pertaining to my religion - and neither can you.

So when you come in and start saying that the very idea of the separation of church and state makes you "want to throw up" and that we all must start obeying God's law to save this country from destruction, I get a little very angry.  To which God are you referring, Rick?  Are you referring to the God of the Jews?  What about the God of the Muslim faith?  How about the Buddhists, Hindi, Mormons, Protestants, Scientologists, Jehova's Witnesses, Pagans and so many more beautiful faiths? What about those who choose not to ascribe to any particular faith at all? Do they not have rights in your proposed American ideal?  That pesky first amendment says they do.

I find it more than a little ironic that you reference the speech given by John F. Kennedy in 1960 attempting to assuage voters that they should vote for him despite his Catholic faith.  That even as a man of faith, the church would have no power over his decisions as president.  Flash forward fifty-two years and here you are making stump speeches claiming that the very reason you should be elected is that you are Catholic.  The speech that makes you vomit contributed to the fact that you have a political career in the first place.

You say that the current administration has attacked 'the church' time and again.  Again I say, which church?  Obama hasn't attacked my church, or yours for that matter.  He's not allowed to under that pesky first amendment.

You have the right to believe that I am going to hell because I use contraception, believe in a woman's right to choose and think that global climate change is a real threat.  You have the right to tell anyone who will listen how your way is the right way, the only way, the true way.  You have the right to gather in a group and let lawmakers know that you think they are attacking your church.  That pesky first amendment says you do.

What you don't have the right to do is step into the highest office in our land and change laws so they fit with your personal doctrine and that of your church.  What you don't have the right to do is take away laws that protect women because your bible says that right is wrong.  What you don't have the right to do is take this nation backwards. That pesky first amendment says you don't.

I am kind of in love with that pesky first amendment.

Tips from one of the most beautiful women to ever grace this world