A Painted Canvas

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What photos of yourself make you feel good about yourself? Why?

For me, it’s when I see a picture of myself fully done up. I really enjoy makeup. It’s a simple joy in this life that allows me to express my severely lacking artistic side. 

 

It’s Really Okay To Be You….

I know the title of this blog post reads like it’s going to be an after school special and most will just gloss right over this thinking, ” Oh God, Seriously Lady? What am I… just learning how to color in the lines today?” but please keep reading. You might just learn something. Most of us are completely and utterly unaware of who we are, what we want, why we are in the relationships we are in, what our goals are. We are completely lost and hung up on false realities. Someone else has something shiny and new, we want it. A job comes along that allows us to afford more, we take it. There’s an attractive person we would like to get to know more about, we pursue. But at what time do we really take time to evaluate how our choices are being formed and what they say about us as people? 

We don’t because we are consumers. Conspicuous Consumption is the name of the game and yet we wonder why late at night when we can’t sleep, why we are thinking…. I have it all and I’m still not whole. I must need more. We are constantly trying to fill the void we have created by our own emission of awareness. When you are creating a persona based on what you think the world wants to see, you are doing yourself a grave disservice. You’re creating a numbness that you might not even realize is there because you’re so used to being unhappy and thinking that you just haven’t accumulated enough to reach contentment. 

What we are never told is that it is okay to be us. Hell, I’m as emotional and passionate as they come. But I’ve made myself less for years because I’ve been told that emotional=crazy and stoicism =grounded. I’ve been told that women are not as smart as men. I’ve been told that all the jobs that I’ve held are “stupid, little jobs” which in my mind added up to I must be a “stupid, little person.” I’ve been told that you have to smile to the world for anyone to like you, hire you, love you. All the while my insides were shriveling up. The girl who wanted to be a journalist and writer was killed off many years ago. The girl who told herself she would let no man have power over her as she watched her mother struggle in abusive relationships, lost all power. 

It just simply wasn’t acceptable to be me. Who the hell did I think I was? Twenty years old and moving to California. I was in love (luvvvvvvv <3). My past pathology followed me here and manifested in ways I never thought possible. I didn’t become a strong, independent woman. I became a frightened, sniveling, codependent shell of a person. I worried everyday what people thought about me. Everyone needed to like “me.” I put me in quotations because I’m now convinced that no one knows the real me. I hear from everyone how sweet and quiet I am which just reveals how far off the mark they are. I’m actually quite sarcastic and loud. ( at least I used to be) 

That woman is still there and she is finding her voice. But my gosh, what a journey. It’s almost like when people know you’re trying to heal yourself from an emotional standpoint that you are speaking a completely different language. Emotional and Mental well being? I came from a family of  ” get over it.” I’m not allowed to take time for myself to heal anything but the physical. All I can hear is my father going, ” What a crybaby!” That shit sticks with you through the years and the hell it puts you through is destructive at best and terrifying at its worst. 

Each day I remind myself to be authentic. I haven’t been very successful. I still find myself caring about what people think. I still find myself making comparisons. I still find myself not finding my value and self worth. I still berate myself. I still become numb when pain tries to surface. I still let my feelings manifest in my addictions instead of proactively sharing them. But I’m becoming aware and I now know that it’s really okay to be me. 

It’s okay to be you, too. I promise.