SCORPION

I woke up many times this weekend not knowing if it was day or night outside. I secluded myself after having a burst of too much emotion. One step forward, two steps back. I spent 3 days in my room, starting over. I watched my favorite TV series  (The Magicians) from Season 1, watching the characters grow all the way into the final and 5th season. It was an emotional journey in the same way that when I watch Harry Potter 7 part 2, I feel as if my childhood is dying, over and over again. To see such a visual representation of life feels so surreal. Then I started a new game on the switch, from the beginning. I named my Cult, “If Fits, It Sits”. Which is almost as good as my original name, which was “They Not Named”. Maybe I will start a 3rd Cult of the Lamb game and go crazy. I was playing with some version of Spoken is Unbroken or something. It has to be super short but creative. Creativity makes everything feel less numb.

My thoughts often wander in between episodes. Sometimes, during episodes, a character will say something and the emotions come pouring out of me. I feel stuck. Writing is easing some of this self-induced anxiety. It’s like transference of some sort. The pensive from Harry Potter. I type it out here and it slowly fades to shade less bright in my head. At the end of the day, I knew. Denial is something that can only work if every party involved participates. That’s what we were working on. Putting on the façade to present to the outside world. I wanted to believe it more than I needed it to be true. And now, all I have is an eternity of nothing. Dead. Everything is dead.

I’m brought back to several conversations I had with my father as a young girl. He told me that women crave men to own them. I remember feeling outraged as if I were property. How many camels and a horse could you get for me? The older I get, the more I see the wisdom of his words. It’s not ownership though. It’s a sense of belonging. They say home is where the heart is… I think I have been looking for a home for a very long time. A search that still continues.

I bring up the point about finding home because when living in that said home, compromise is always needed to make it all work. I have been pretty stubborn about giving any kind of leeway. It is safe to say that I stepped so far out of my comfort zone, to compromise. Do you know what compromises entails? It means that one or both people feel disappointed because no one is really getting their way. I left in the key word one, because sometimes only one person is unhappy. That’s called a different thing. Sacrifice. But I do feel compromise can be reached if sacrifice happens from time to time. For instance, I am not happy this time and maybe you won’t be happy next time. But when over 50% of the situations are one person sacrificing, it doesn’t feel like partnership. Or worse, the sacrifices go unnoticed. Lack of communication really does kill everything. I am not sure what it was I have been doing for the last few months. Maybe just me, trying on mommy’s lipstick and playing make believe house with someone who didn’t even like me. That feels on brand for me.

I am like the scorpion. A scorpion is trapped on one side of the river. A passing frog notices and talks to the scorpion. The scorpion says, let me cross the river on your back. The frog says no, you will sting and drown me. The scorpion says I cannot sting you, because if you drown, so would I. The frog agrees and lets the scorpion climb onto his back. Halfway across the river, the scorpion stings the frog. And the drowning frog screams why. And the scorpion simply says, it is my nature. So, yea, I am very much like the scorpion.

I write into my pensive of thoughts knowing that I am the true creator of my reality. So, stop crying buttercup. You did this. Welcome to the rest of your life.

Random Unicorn Thoughts

 

Dear Diary,

You ever feel like writing something nonsensical because it feels like that might be the thing to bring a little magic into your life? Like some last unicorn (from the 70s) bs where it feels sad at first but ends as happy as possible. I mean, she’s the last of her kind… How was that ever going to end on a happy note?  Writing Is such a strange hobby because it doesn’t seem hard until you are trying to think of what to write. That’s probably why I blog during high emotion. Emotions provide so many thoughts. Non-stop thoughts about everything from why the sky is blue to why killer whales seem friendly. It’s a façade. Run. Who ever made Free Willy… ya lied. I recently watched a video of a female elderly orca hunting down and killing a male great white shark in his prime. I don’t know what he did, but he paid for that crime.

I am currently retracing some old pathways from my youth, but with a different perspective. It’s weird how life doesn’t really change and yet it feels like it because of how much we have changed. I am seeing past advice much more clearly than ever before. Like inception, because I can’t tell you who planted these ideas but thank you. I am focusing on my healing and happiness rather than waiting for someone to show up so I can try to make them happy. What does an unhappy person know about that anyway? The logic seems so legit in hindsight. Funny, how in the moment, you think you know everything. The biggest relationship killer is assumption. Stop making an ass out of u and me, silly goose.

On that note of the last unicorn… Once there was a girl. She was stubborn. She thought she knew what love looked like because she watched every hallmark movie where the girl gets the boy just with her million-dollar smile and charming back story. Turns out, dudes are just as complicated as females. Did you know that some guys like getting flowers? I just love that. I read online that when you want something from your partner, try doing it for them to see how it hits. That’s it people. I am bringing flowers to my next first date. Why does dating have to be so sexist? I just need it to be something cool, like black roses. Dark like my soul.

And then the girl started using some of her shadow work healing to talk to people in a way they better deserve. I don’t think men know what it feels like to get a bunch of DMs on your looks. Maybe they don’t get those type of DMs and they think the females will appreciate it? Should I try making comments on appearance? I really try to avoid the topic until I absolutely have to say something. Most people aren’t my “I have a crush on you” type anyway. Because I am not looking at you. I am listening to you. When looks fade, what will be left? The shell of a person? Hard pass. I want thoughts. Passion. Meaning to life and the universe that isn’t 42. Good conversation will keep me warmer than any charming smile. Work on your brain and then you may chase me. Happy Hunting!  

Any who, I mostly wrote this to stay relevant. Can't practice writing if you are not writing. I promise to have more direction in the future. Keep Swimming Readers!

-Jen

The past is behind me

 

I am losing some of the gun ho to continue down this daily blog path. Some of it is that I am starting to feel more healed. Some of it is that I have factors in my life that I cannot always be 100% transparent with to the world. Things can be private. I know. I said that. Me. But even I have secrets. I have deleted the dating apps for now. I think I wanted to feel some sort of connection because anything is better than feeling rejected. But I seem to be on some constant memory loop in my head where I replay the conversation of that night. Did he break up with me or did I just run away because it was too hard? Regardless of what happened, what is happening now is nothing. Which can only mean that I am nothing, to him anyway. So, I really want this time to be the last time I mention my heart break. Nothing good can come from dwelling on a past that is just that, behind me.

That being said, I am going to try some different things. They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly expecting different results. This is a subject matter I have discussed over and over throughout my life because it seems to be a central theme for me. No more dating apps. I don’t know how I will meet people though, because I am kind of an introvert. But maybe I am not meant to meet anyone. We can live very fulfilling lives in solitude. Hobbies and cats.

This one is short blog entry today because I need my last James post to be separate from anything else. To compartmentalize it into myself, I cannot associate it with anything else. One day I might be able to watch horror stuff again, but for now, Halloween is dead to me. Everything that reminds me of the moments I shared with my first love need to die so I can learn to live again. Past what was ours and make a new path on my road of solitude.

Signing off for tonight with a PSA, if you don’t understand what someone is going through, just say that. Emotion is complicated and often makes zero sense. I don’t need anyone to understand. I just need a hug every now and again. And maybe a kick in the butt to stop crying. But it seems silly to fight with anyone over how someone else treated them. Now, re-read that.  

- Jen

Do self affirmations ever work?

This isn't a shadow work entry because shadow work is really about realizing triggers from your childhood that form these negative interactions but catching yourself in time to turn that moment around into something healthy and positive. No. Today is me having another post break-up, break-down because I decided to go through our stuff. What stage is this again? 

The last few days have been confusing. My breakup started in the beginning of my work week. I had work to consume my time and thoughts. Today is the last day of my days off as I start my new work week tonight. I'm now an overnight delivery Dispatcher. It's the first job I've had in years where I feel little stress and like a happy minion. No responsibility. No hard decisions. Just be-boop. The pay could be better but then again, the work is pretty straight forward. And the people are nice to one another. This is probably the perfect place for my healing. I'm almost at 3 months here and sometimes it scares me how safe I feel. I don't worry about losing my job because me doing the work is enough. No expectations other than don't fuck it up. Yes. I can do that. I feel like I'm reverse venting right now. Like, no, I don't hate my job. I really like my boss. And my coworkers care about doing a good job. It's so weird after everything I've been through. 

Insert my recent break up. 

I thought I was handling everything like a pro. The crying stopped. I felt annoyance but who knows if that's just Jen or if I'm still traversing the stages. I finally went through the trash bags of stuff he bagged up for me. I guess I kept taking stuff over there. I didn't want to move into a one bedroom apartment on the 3rd floor. I just wanted it to feel more like home when I would spend 2-3 days in a row there. Now it feels like I over stepped. With my candles, incense and healing crystals. The bedding and squishfellows. That's what he called them. I think I was OK going through the bags until I got to the art stuff. He introduced me to painting. I fell so in love with it. But for me, it became this hobby that seemed harder when we weren't doing it together. Then, I noticed that we just stopped. And inside these bags was everything. All of his work, his brushes, his paints. It's like he was telling me that I ruined his hobby. I had a break down as I found a new spot in my room for everything. I stare at the organized pile from my bed bawling because will I ever paint again? Will he? I wasn't very good but I loved his work. His little fluffy clouds on his Bob Ross landscape attempts. Happy little trees. Did I ruin that for him? I feel like a bad person. 

I'm going through more of the trash bags and I find gifts. Things he gave me. Things I gave him. I get the pleasure of deciding whether or not I can look at my pink drop bear that he got me for valentines. Or the picture frame with us in it. Or my favorite, the pop up photo card I made him. It's like we never mattered. Why don't we matter anymore. I'm trying to pull myself together. Why am I going through this stupid stuff. I already took down the photos of us. I've never done that before. Put up photos of someone I love. He was a lot of firsts for me. Maybe that's why everything hurts so much. I come across a crocheted necklace he let me borrow. I remember him telling me that his best friend and exgirlfriend, whom he still sees, made it for him. I know it's special and I have to take it back to him because I'm not a monster. But the thought of going over there cripples me into a ball of just inconsolable sobbing. I can't see him. What if there's a girl at his apartment, sitting where I used to sit. I think that would have me just walk off that top step of his 3 flights of stairs. Why does that bug me so much? He didn't want me. He rejected me. Because love wasn't enough. 

My room is so clean. Something I've never cared about before. I even swept and mopped the floors you can see now. I stopped leaving dishes in my room (for longer than a day - baby steps) and started hanging up and folding my clothes. I was getting ready to start a life with someone because in order to have a good relationship, you have to be good partner. Playing house starts now. Where ever you are, just pretend someone else has to be in your area and think, what don't they want to see or be around. He really did change my life for the better. His guidance still rings inside my head everytime I think I'm going to just game all day. I think about responsibilities I could be taking care of instead. I live with my mom. It's not what you think but go ahead with your preconceived notions of who I am. I've been helping out more than ever because something clicked in me that I don't want to be a slob. That takes dedication. So, now I vacuum and do dishes and fold laundry. I'm finally domesticated. I just keep telling myself that if I'm a proper woman who cooks and cleans, maybe the next man will tolerate my personality more. I just need to be attractive, whatever that means. 

Something is clear though, that whatever I do next, I need to do it alone. These emotions keep coming up out of nowhere. That doesn't seem fair to the next guy. What if I miss out on love because I'm too busy missing someone who left me. Someone who bagged up our life into trash bags and did just that, took out the trash. I'm the trash in this story. It's hard to move on because I still feel like we had something. I know it's not the loneliness. I think I'm scared that I won't laugh again. Or have intelligent conversations. He's so smart, and wity. He even got me a little more interested in politics again. Something I decided was dead to me when Trump took office. He awakened things in me that I thought had died. Will they die all over again because all my new guy options want to talk about camping with their dogs or watching the game. Did I ruin my only chance at happiness? 

Obviously, I'm going through some form of woman hysteria. I needed to clean up those trash bags but all they did was trigger me. It's over Jennifer. He doesn't love you and you need to move on with your life. I'm a grown woman and I have responsibilities. Just box the pain away and deal with it on the other side of your work week. Your coworkers and boss deserve the professional, clear headed version of you right now. Just do it. Do it. Do eeeeeeet. You got this. 

Do self affirmations ever work? 

-Jen 

Shadow Work, Day Seven: You're Beautiful

I'm human but there is only so much I can tolerate. Why are people so toxic? I see them using dating apps to manipulate people with low self esteem, but what about the people who can see through the bs? How people treat you is how they see you. But how I let people treat me is how I see myself. Think about that. 

I'm going to talk about my biggest trigger right now and fully explain why it offends. All the unwarranted comments on my appearance. How fickle to be enamored by a feature of mine that consistently changes and not always for the better. Ugh. The thought that crosses my mind everytime I read any kind of opener on my appearance. "Feel free to send your compliments to the chef sir. The meal can't hear you."

Seriously. Take a piece of paper right now and stare at it. Tell that piece of paper how pretty it is with its pale color and flat lines. Oooh baby. Did anything happen? Weird.... ok. Now try insulting it. You look too thin sweetie, eat a burger. Now, what happened? Weird.... still nothing? Now crinkle it up into a ball. Oh no. It's all wrinkled and ripped. Try to uncrinkle it and flatten it out again. Now tell that paper you're sorry. You didn't mean to hurt it. Why aren't the wrinkles and tears going away? Why can't you stay flat anymore? I'll explain what just happened. Your words had 0 effect on that paper until you took action. And even after you decided to take that action, guess what still didn't work. Your words. Words only have the power we give them. But also, our actions/inactions can force others into a state of disrepair. The paper will never be her flat self again because you crinkled her up. But you're sorry, so it's OK now. That's an entirely different topic that I would love to explore when I'm not mad about appearing "beautiful."

Then theres the insult that anyone would think the words of a stranger can so easily penetrate these walls of protection I have built. (I'm fraud, words still hurt me.) It's also the very low effort approach to reach coitius. I get my validation from myself. (This is what I'm saying outloud until it actually works.) I know what I look like. It's clear that you agree that I'm not hideous because you've chosen to interact with me. Yes. People are so shallow that they do seek out the esthetically pleasing. How do I know this? Experience. As you know, I'm fat. Ok, I'm less fat than before. But, behind these hazel eyes is the same person who was rejected years ago by the same men suddenly showing me interest. I remember a friend of mine casually telling me that his friend thought I would be pretty enough for a date if I lost some weight. Or all of the times a relative told me I had potential to be stunning, one day. Not on that day. But with enough hard work, I could get there. I used some effort and got there, a little. You know what new thought was unlocked when I did? That I'd rather hear someone say, "Thank you for making an effort today." Not, you're beautiful. Ugh!!

Now I can already hear the naysayers. "You said you wanted your boyfriend to call you beautiful." Yes. Because my effort went into my appearance for him. Because I put on eyeliner when my eyes were bloodshot and tired, for him. Because I brushed on blush, to appear more joyful and young, for him. When you do something for someone else, it hurts when they don't acknowledge. It should be noted that my ex boyfriend did do this, until he didn't. A sign that he had fallen out of love with me. I don't want any confusion here. I wanted to hear gratitude for my effort but I settled for "you look beautiful" because I understood that's what he meant when he said it. 

Intention!! That is my entire point in this unsolicited rant. Your empty words are full of ill intention and I can smell it like a bloodhound. It's so pungent though that I just can't take it. I hear screaming. It's me. Head in a pillow throwing a tantrum because still, no one understands how demeaning it is to hear "you're beautiful." How about when men tell us that we would look prettier if we smiled. I watched a fictional dramatic show called, "Why women Kill". This show should be mandatory to all teenage boys. Or maybe I should just get back in the kitchen and make the perfect roast and potatoes, my little snicker doodle. *sarcasm*. 

I've beat this dead horse enough. I started this shadow work entry in anger. Somewhere along the way though, I found some peace. Which is really the goal of shadow work. To heal. 

It's never too late to learn a new skill. You're single. Wanna know why? Go find out. Take a look, it's in a book. Probably not on the reading rainbow.... however, with the invention of the internet, you have 0 excuses. I entered into a relationship with 0 knowledge on how to do anything. I started googling questions I had and guess what? Turns out I'm not unique at all. Tons of other lost souls are out there, blindly search for answers. And I'm reminded from all the helpful responses that not all heros wear capes. It's one of the many reasons I reactivated my very public blog again. Maybe my struggles will help someone.

Disclaimer, because I only overthink on the days that end in Y. I didn't tell you what I wanted to see instead of "Youre beautiful", because what could possibly be better than a comment on my outward package? Literally ANYTHING. I took some time to write out a few hobbies on my profile. I read your profile before I swiped right. I didn't want to waste anyone's time in swiping right on someone who would be mismatched with me. This feels like how common sense should be common, but rarely is.... which brings us back to intention. I'm having a hard time talking to the guy who choose the screen name beavereater69 just as much as the guy who wrote "ask me" as his entire profile. You want sex. Sex is easy. And very free when lonely girls will do anything to feel connection. I'm alone but never lonely. I fill my life with family and one very outspoken tuxedo dressed black cat. Either way, stop sneaking into dating apps with your ill intentions. Or at least, stop trying to get my attention. You may call me Jen. There are no "sweet hearts" or "doll faces" around here. 

- Jen 

Shadow Work, Day Six: Regret because I didn't know?

So often, we go through life, rather carefree. Never giving a second thought to the little things in our lives. Back in my Seattle days, I used to walk by a house on my way home from work, almost everyday. They grew the most beautiful orange asiatic lilies all over their front yard. I would always take so many photos on my iPhone 3, an ancient piece of technology that never quite grasped the perfection of every bloom. However, I never picked one because I enjoyed watching them sway among all the others. I'm brought back to this memory not recalling the last time I saw them, which is kind of sad. 

Then it hits me that we never really know when this will be the last time. The last time I see a small yard filled with fully bloomed bright orange asiatic lilies. The last time I whisper I love you. The last time my dad swings me around in his arms. So many moments are fleeting. Which begs the question, if we knew it was the last time, would we cherish it more? Savor it longer? Celebrate it with more enthusiasm? 

This type of regret has me viewing my interactions with people differently. Will today be the last time I see this person? Will this kiss be the last? Will I ever feel this way again? Where's the magical fortune telling device when you need one? On the flip side, would you dread going into a situation if you knew it was the last? Or worse, could you let go? I can never really tell if knowledge is power or if ignorance is bliss. Especially where knowing something like this could change an entire moment.... I think back on several occasions where it was the last of its kind. I wish I could have been "more" in those moments. 

And we're full circle back to the concept of regret. That these thoughts are a reminder that in order to avoid regret, you must observe, learn and make the necessary adjustments. Obviously, you cannot avoid something being the last time you do it. But you can try to be your best version in everything in life. When you look back on these last moments, you can think, that was the best I could give. I really gave it "carpe diem" vibes. 

I feel that way with my last relationship. I didn't know which kiss would be the last. Which joke would cause me to laugh with him one more time. Or which enlightened perspective would be my last look into something I still never understood. But I sure as heck gave it the old college try. Do I wish I had know when things had been their final run? 💯 But isn't that part of the mystery that is living? 

Today's shadow work entry revisits regret in not knowing which moments to cherish most because that's possibly their final run. Yolo so you can live with a little less regret. I really do miss those orange asiatic lilies. They will live rent free inside of my brain for the rest of my life. 

--Jen

Shadow Work, Day Five: Self Pity...

I think, I have been practicing shadow work for a long time. I kind of knew what it was when I decided to start this recent journey. But to read more about it online made me realize that I've been trying to fix what's broken for longer than even I realized. A true testament that deep down, we all want to be better. Maybe life would be easier if I were dumb. Ignorance seems so blissful. And that's the real goal. Bliss. 

From the many writting prompts I came across in my online research, it appears there is no topic too taboo. Healing only happens when we step outside of our comfort zones. That being said, people always advise to write what you know. Right now, I only know the endless strolls down memory lane of my recently failed relationship. It floods my dreams, as if my brain is helping my heart. I look back except I've dropped the rose colored glasses and all I can think is, why were you so blind? You couldn't see that your guy didn't enjoy your presence anymore. That you seemed to be taking up space and interrupting sleep. That you used to be beautiful, and now you had to ask if you looked ok. You don't see the little things that change until it's already in your rear view mirror. 

Then you're reminded of the times you held back out of fear. Fear that they would fall out of love with you. They say the more you fear something, the more likely it will happen. As if you accidently manifested it. That's so true. How do I know? I've seen it happen in real time. Straight out of a fantasy novel. In Seattle, I'm sitting at a bus stop, thinking, wow, the rain is really coming down today. Then I see an oddly shaped rock, all pointy as fuck. And for a second, I think about how that rock could really fuck my phone up if I dropped it with my slippery hands. And like out of some weird scene from a movie, my phone is suddenly flying through the air. It lands on that rock and cracks my screen. I feared breaking my phone in such a specific way and then watched it happen. If that's not manifestation, I know nothing about anything. But honestly, that's kind of how my life goes. I dread something and it happens. 

I don't feel sorry for myself though. Because things happen the way they should. My phone was really old and I needed an upgrade bad but I couldn't justify the upgrade, because that's who I am. I'm not saying I did it on purpose, because I didn't. But it definitely feels like my subconscious took the wheel. Maybe that's what happened in my relationship. It was time to go. I think I reached a point where I was going through the motions of saying I love you because I wanted to be a person who said it. I also wanted to be a person that meant it when I said it. I did mean it. Until I didn't. 

How do you know if what you're feeling is temporary or if that is how you really feel from now on? Do you keep trying or walk away? How do you make that decision? I just froze. I stopped making decisions and just followed the routine. It was easier. And I kept saying that when you leave the honey moon stage, you're just living life. That's what we all want. To live. To spend that life living it next to someone else. Everyday can't be romantic picnics and spontaneous dancing in your living room. Or can it? Is it crazy to want to act out your love every day? Is that expectation too high? Or unrealistic? There's so much more I want to experience and learn. But I do know one solid fact. People who want to, do. Think about that. 

My shadow work lesson today is not to self pity. Every experience is an invaluable opportunity to expand on what makes me Jen. There is no light with out the dark. Good without the bad.You experience good things to make the lessons we learn from the bad things, more tolerable. Hope. It survives all else for good reason. So, my hope is that I keep on swimming for how ever long my destiny fortells, collecting as much knowledge in this life to make the next one even better. Regardless of your beliefs. Energy exists. It cannot be destroyed. Therefore, my efforts go somewhere when I die. Let's send the good stuff. 

--Jen 

Shadow Work, Day Four: Regret, Emotions and breathing?

 

Hey guys, 

Today isn’t really fueled with the same passion as I have had lately. I think I am starting to settle into my new reality. That every day is the same. Thanks for that Trent Reznor. Nothing to be sad or mad or really passionate about. Today is when my old friend apathy rejoins me in my continued path of solitude. I am going through the motions of reading through dating profiles, but I don’t think I really want to find anyone. That’s the thing about regret. You can only see the things we regret in a rear-view mirror. I don’t want to be laying on my death bed, thinking, man, I wish I had tried just a little bit more. Here is me. Trying. But since we are talking about regret, why not?

I actually came across some interesting motivational tid-bits on the gram about regret. Prior to the breakup, which gives me a clarity outside of my grief. I learned that regret is not supposed to make you feel bad. It supposed to remind us of mistakes so that we can work on being the best version of ourselves. It’s a reminder of a time when we were not that version. Some of us have more regret than others. My take on the subject has always been that regret is a terrible concept, because it means that if you had a time machine, you would go back and change that moment. You know what you would really being changing? I don’t know. And neither do you. We are who we are today because of the choices we already made. Wanting to change that is a type of anti-self-love, is it not? Sure, I wish I was richer, thinner, smarter. However, I am only as much effort as I have applied. Anything that comes to you without the hard work doesn’t teach you to appreciate it. Then if that thing leaves you, like money, you’re stuck. It has always been freely given and now you don’t know how to fish. It’s a slippery slope and as is with everything, shit rolls downhill.

To sum up, regret doesn’t have to be this terrible concept at all. If we aren’t learning, are we even living? I see things popping up all the time on my gram about how failure only happens when you give up. We all mess up. It’s called being human. But to the people who give up after messing up, you failed. Success is paved with the road of our mishaps and the end is only reached by those who keep moving forward. All of these concepts make so much sense on paper. And in reality, emotions set in and it’s hard to see with any clarity. I am often controlled entirely by my emotions. When I think back on a moment, I sometimes cannot even tell you why certain words were said, or actions made. I can only tell you that I was emotionally blind in that moment. It's not really something than can be explained. But we have all felt it. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is how most people explain away temporary insanity. I often joke about Women Hysteria. The cure for which is just fucking brilliant. Google it. At the end of the day, most people are controlled by the temporary inconveniences of emotions.

That being said, there is a way through this wilderness. Breathe. Just count to some random number and breathe. And maybe the fog will clear enough for you to be the version of you not being controlled by your emotions. It’s funny how many things can simply be solved by breathing. Try it right now. Just a few breathes. Count them as they go in and then count again as they exit. Do you feel better? I know I do.

On the topic of emotions, I am very excited to see a new installment of the “Inside Out” franchise. I waited a while to see this movie when it first came out. Not because it is intended for children- we are all children at heart. But because I knew this topic was going to be hard for me to watch. It’s no secret that I have always felt like a slave to my emotions. My biggest dictator being sadness. It was the movie that gave me new perspective. Before I saw it, I always thought I was a bad person for being sad all the time. That the people around me were the good type of people because they could smile and function. Then I saw that stupid blue girl with her glasses (looking kind of like me) thinking she ruined everything, only to discover that sadness is just as important as joy. Even if you don’t feel like that, we need to accept that these emotions are going to happen and sometimes without warning. You cannot control everything that happens to you. Honestly, you also cannot always control the way you feel about things. But you can ALWAYS control how you react on the outside. If that means seclusion so that you don’t hurt the people in your life, do that. Call out of work. We live in a new day and age where people need mental health days. USE THEM. This is inside me yelling at outside me, because I'm a firm believer in, "Give me work or give me death!! Death is real possibility though when you put YOU on the back burner. Think about it. Would you treat friend the way you treat yourself? I hope I wouldn't. 

Signing off today, glad that I am finally starting to get back to normal. Post break-up. Life moves on whether we do or not. I don’t want to be left behind. I’ll keep learning - improving my self-awareness/emotional intelligence and maybe sharing some of that with you, along the way. Remember, Just Breathe.    

-Jen 

Shadow Work, Day Three: Am I STILL the bully?

I'm standing in the shower, and I can feel the hot water pouring down the sides of my face. I've been looking at the wall and have lost track of the time. It's strange for me because I'm a 5 min shower kind of girl... I suddenly realize that it's been much longer than 5 minutes that I've been staring at this wall. Like in the horror movie, Carrie, I suddenly hear the high-pitched voice of her mother. Except it isn't saying they are going to laugh at me. No. It's saying you're alone now. Alone now. Alone now... Like some fucking broken record of my life. Memories are flooding my brain, and someone asks me how I can go to movies and sit in restaurants alone. At the time, I'm in my 20s having spent a lot of time alone. The question is strange to me because I do everything alone. If I didn't, I wouldn't ever do anything. And now fast forward to I'm 38 years old, standing in this shower trying to get up the courage to go to a movie or the store alone because I'm not that independent person anymore. Now I'm this hollow shell of an incomplete pairing and I'm terrified to leave this shower, right now. I feel warm liquid run down my face but it's coming from me. I'm crying again. Why do I keep crying. I have to leave the shower. I go to my bedroom and sit on my bed. Why do I check my phone again. What will I find but 0 notifications. I start doom scrolling. Instagram is full of motivational poems about moving on. Great, my eavesdropping phone also knows I'm alone. But not just that. It knows I'm riding this roller coaster of emotion because one ad is dating apps, but the next one is about death. The man starts talking during a rain drenched scene in a cityscape. He's saying that he doesn't want to kill himself. But he's tired. And if God were sitting across from him, he would say just that. Dear God. I'm tired. I'm done. Can we just go? Anywhere but here because I'm just done. That resonated with me in a way that only sadness can comfort sadness. 

Today's shadow entry isn't about my recent flight or fight response to my impending loneliness. It's about asking the hard questions so that I can work through my barriers. I know you want to know why my boyfriend left me. Today feels like the day I should open that box. I want to start from the very beginning though because that's what shadow work entails. Healing childhood traumas. 

I remember most clearly, an incident when I was 5. Sure, this wasn't the first one, but this is the one I can remember. We are all coloring our pictures of dinosaurs. Fat crayons in hand, working to stay inside the lines. My guy is going to be green. As one colors, the shape curves to a flat point. Some of the girls in my class are coloring their dinosaurs red. Which means that all of their crayons have shaped themselves into lipsticks. Everyone is giggling and applying crayon to their lips like we have all watched our mothers do. I want to play too but my crayon isn't red. The head mean girl points this out and says that no one wears green lipstick. That's just Ludacris. I'm crying because I'm the weird kid and everyone knows it. 

I'm also a military brat, which just means we move every 3 years. With me being the weird kid, this is actually a blessing. But also, a lesson that no matter where you are, if you're the problem, it never leaves your side. That knowledge that all of your problems are because of who you are. Oh, and the problems too. The problems never leave you. I can recount story after story. Go into long drawn-out details about the year the girls stole my diary and spread it like wildfire. Or the year the volleyball team threw volleyballs at me in gym because I'm too outspoken in class and the teacher's pet. I find solace in my relationships with adults. I befriend the lunch lady and the school bus driver. Kids my age hate me. I'm bullied my entire childhood. 

People have asked me, what did I do? It's a funny question because victim shaming. Wow. What does anyone do to deserve bullying? If you have spent any amount of time with me, you will know what I did wrong. I was me. But here is a list of my top complaints: I often open mouth insert foot. I can't pronounce any words of real value. I always say one sentence too many. My opinion is always unpopular and towards the negative side. I lack filter and I usually say everything on my mind. If I'm not saying what's on my mind, my facial expression is doing that. I don't want to say I deserved what I got but I definitely rub people the wrong way. 

In an effort to combat the bullying though, I became the bully. I can't really remember picking on people in the way that others seemed to search for me. I just was reactive. If you talked to me, you usually got some rude response or criticism. As I matured, I lost empathy for others and along with any patience. I grew quick to anger. I want to say that me being bullied stayed in my school age days, but I made a huge mistake that followed me into my 30s. I got fat. I got really fat really fast because I discovered at 16 that the only thing that made my heart hurt less was when my stomach hurt from binge eating. Everything I could fit in my mouth. I ate and ate until I couldn't feel anything else. Then strangers started letting me know how they felt about my existence. I received the most interesting interactions from legit crack heads asking me how I get up with my fat self every day to tall construction workers announcing to a full gas station that the fat girl is holding up the line with my over whelming girth. I want to tell you I imagined it all in some sick self-loathing fantasy I created but ask any fat person how their experience in society has been. Go ahead. I'll wait. I promise you will not find one that has not been bullied by complete strangers for what reason? Being outside of societies beauty standards. 

So, let's recap. I'm bullied in my youth for my personality and then as an adult for my outside packaging. I don't kill myself, so I just rot from the inside out. I eventually reach 450 lbs. It hurts to walk or move. My most recent job has fired me because my boss found my personality to be grating. One of my write ups was, "employee is heard referring to herself as dory, a fictional disabled fish with a bad memory". It's hard not to laugh at the things people often were annoyed with me about. My roommates didn't care for me either and so I call my mother in New Mexico and tell her that I am done with life. Fast forward 8 years and I'm now 270 lbs., living in NM, driving and owning an actual car.... my life has changed so drastically.

However, I still carry the wounds of my previous life. Every day, I feel like I'm a little better than I used to be, but then I get dumped for being mean. That's your answer. My boyfriend left me because I'm too mean. Because I get mad in social settings. Because I say mean things to strangers. Just don't talk to me. That's all I ask. Just leave me alone. I can't with people. When I'm being paid, I can put on a fake smile and act the part of a normal human, so I don't end up homeless. But on my days off, I just don't have it in me to fake a smile. To say good morning to strangers. Or to be thankful that service standards have plummeted since Gen Z started entering the workforce. And for that, along with my several unpopular opinions about life, another man has left me. Yes, this is actually the second man to tell me that they can't be with me because I'm too mean. How do you work through that? And the fact that the two men are 10 years apart tells me that no matter how much we feel like we've changed, we never really do, do we? Does this mean that I'm just too broken permanently? There's no fixing it. I need to find someone as mean as me or that's it. 

You know what I liked about my ex. That he was the opposite of me in every way. Because he wasn't mean, like me. I think that's why this hurts so much. Because I don't think I can ever not be mean. Yes. I heard that. I'm saying it out loud and I'm hearing those words. You know how someone like me controls their anger? I have to take mind numbing medications. I have to take a front row seat to my own life and watch out of my eyes like some projected movie screen. Someone is telling me that my grandma has passed and all I can say is ok. You aren't living a life. You are watching one go by. There is more I'm leaving out in terms of medication and diagnoses. Maybe it would help my story to tell you that they say I have a chemical imbalance and that's why I've always been the weird kid. The only reason to divulge that though, is to tell you that not everyone wants medication to be the answer. I know because I've tried it. And through talk therapy, I've been advised that I can manage as long as I'm always hyper aware of myself and my surroundings. Think about that. I have to constantly check and recheck myself. It's so exhausting. So, I self-medicate with recreational methods, and I sleep. People can't hurt you in your dreams because I entirely control those worlds. I can no longer remember my dreams, but I imagine they are better than waking life because I sleep so much. Probably another contributing factor to my recent breakup. I really do sleep a lot. Better to run than.... well, face my reality. 

I hope that in today's shadow work assignment, I could better shine a light on what I am and why. On how I ended up on day 3 of being alone again. Whether I push people away or they eventually run away on their own, the result is always the same. I'm alone. Just like the Carrie rant circling my head during my shower. Alone now. Alone now. Alone now... 

Shadow Work, Day Two: I have accepted it.

 

The stages of a break-up. Let’s fucking go. 

There’s always going to be research online to back up any opinion or claim. That makes researching difficult. What is a fact and what is just an opinion? Semantics really because aren’t these all just made-up things that we try to relate to anyway? From my very few days on the college scene, scholars will tell you to trust the information provided by reputable/certified/verified sites like “.govs”. But who doesn’t love a good BuzzFeed quiz. "21 ways to know he’s not right for you." I do love my flags red. (Sarcasm people.)

I am going to sprinkle some research into today’s shadow work because I don’t know anything about anything. Admitting it is half the battle, right? I can only talk about the stages I am going through, but it definitely is NOT linear. It is also not a list you go through and once you have visited the 1^st one, you are done, moving onto steps/stages 2-7 or 2-21, whatever magical number of steps someone created to help them cope. If anything, these magical lists of steps and stages are a starting point. But here is my journey thus far.

1. Crying. Omg. I couldn’t stop crying. It’s like everything was a trigger. Why does everything relate to everything else? Like Kevin Bacon’s 6 degrees of separation, but this was dipping into the land of delulu. I think for me, this was the stage of shock and denial. I kept saying that it came out of nowhere and there were no warning signs. This is exactly why this process is not linear. Because I’m pretty sure that leaks into another stage, but we will get there. A lot of questions. And you ask these questions because being confused feels better than this giant hole in your chest. This is where the shock really put its claws into me because I had to keep saying mantras just to walk through a room. You have to keep telling your brain to put one foot in front of the other to go forward. That to me felt like total despair. And so, the tears flowed to ease the pain of existing. The pain was confusing and suddenly you are worried that you are in pain for the wrong reasons. Why am I sad? Why am I crying? Why does my chest hurt? The denial part of this stage is me going through the motions of sadness but secretly expecting that this is all one big mistake and it’s going to be cleared up soon. So, you wait by the phone. The first minute is ok, because you can’t see through the tears anyway. But then it’s been an entire day and there’s still no notifications. No texts. No calls. No emails. Experts say that the silent treatment is registered as physical pain in the brain. Is that why everything hurts? Because you were there and now, you aren’t. Death. You have to mourn that loss. I cry over my recent loss. Loss of love. Loss of companionship. Loss is loss. But wait there’s more…

2. Anger. I felt mad. Did I just waste the last year? And for what? Just to end up back at the beginning. Downloading the dating apps only to grow frustrated that no one believes in romance anymore. “Hey hottie, wanna fuck?” No. No thanks. Then I am screaming into a pillow because I have all this advice streaming through my head and suddenly, I am rationalizing. Bargaining. Was it me. Can I fix it. Why go to grass I haven’t been watering? There's a patch of grass I have been watering for almost a year. I hate him. Anger is better. Sadness is necessary but anger feels good. It feels like I am doing something. I don’t have to tell me brain how to walk through a room because I am running through them. My heart is beating which lets me know I still have one and it isn’t actually broken into a million pieces. Yea, I like this stage. Cross that. I love this stage.

3. Depression and self-doubt. We can just skip this one because if I am not doing one of these things daily, I have been body snatched and we should be looking for the real slim shady. Plus, if you really want to hear me pour on and on about how sad I feel about my life choices, I did just re-publish old blog posts. Enjoy readers.

4. Longing and realization. I am visiting this stage through-out the sadness and the anger. Often to answer some of my confusing questions. Did you know that most people ask questions knowing the answers already? It makes you wonder how many games people play on a day-to-day basis. I don’t think I have genuinely asked (out loud) who-dun-it without having discovered the truth beforehand. In my research on these stages, I learned a new word, rumination. Turns out, there is a word for over thinking with a negative connotation in relation to emotion. IE: Worry. It’s such a funny concept because worrying only means you suffer twice and yet here, we are, all of us, masochistic in some sick but highly satisfying way. Yes pain, more pain. Rick and Morty said it best with a scene where Jerry is hanging out with the crew from Hellraiser and it hurts to hang out with him which feels good. That sums about my life right there. I am not sure what I am longing right now. It's hard to say how far someone can reach the goal of moving on in a mere 48 hours. But I like to think that I miss things. Moments. Memories. All less than tangible but added up together created a feeling of safety and security. Safe as houses. And then you watch the house burn down. Why we do we long for things so easily destroyed? Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and hoping they won’t use it. I long even now to be destroyed again because those less than tangibles things meant more to me than all the gold in the world. So, I realized that no, I didn’t waste my time. I am not rotting like some old maid. I am not dumb or slow. I am just me. And I just haven’t found the puzzle piece that fits my edges yet. But I am going to keep looking. Seven billion people is a very large number.

5. Finally, this journey only had 5 steps, but acceptance and moving on. Obviously, we are too soon to have moved on. You don’t say you love someone and then pretend they were nothing. Sociopaths do that. I wish I was that sometimes. It seems like empathy and sympathy control me more than I would like. I always tell people that if I care about this one thing, I have to care about the other things. I am only one person. World Hunger. Mass genocide. Unfair waring states. It just seems like wherever you look, there’s a problem. I can see why people push their heads into the sand and pretend like it’s all better. I want it to be better. Then I try to compartmentalize my life, because hash tag first world problems. At least I have food in my belly, clothes on my back and roof over my head. What more could an entitled passing for white young American female ask for? The world is my oyster. So, it says on paper. It’s not fair to say my problems are any less important, they are just different. Perspective matters. I’m moving on, not because I don’t really have any other choice. When someone doesn’t want you, you can’t change that. Why would I want to change that? But I do need to go forward and that means saying out loud that it’s done. There’s no going back. There are no more apologies or explanations. That time has passed. When I think of him, I want to imagine that he is finally talking to more like minded people who want to share their lives. I also want to imagine that he is happy. One day I will feel happy again and I hope that imagining my happiness brings him some peace too. I accept that we weren’t meant for one another, and I am thankful one of us was brave enough to do something about it.

Those are my stages as I see it. Maybe a month, a year, 10 years from now, I will read this and think of something that makes me chuckle to myself. There were some really good times. Times of joy and laughter. People going through a breakup only want to talk about the sadness and anger, but there is a sigh of relief that I feel in writing this. You are free little bird. Now apply what you have learned and be better.   

 

Shadow Work, Day One: I Love You and I don't want to

Seems like, I am broken in ways that make it impossible for me to accept or receive love. They say, you must love yourself before anyone else can. I am always looking for a way to accept and love myself. But, as is my way, I find myself with unrequited love. Only made worse when the person in question also plays along for a little while. Were they ever even interested? Was this all just a game to them. I must box away my emotions so I can pull them out every time I have scheduled that “time” for feelings. Since I have not done this, I keep spontaneously crying. Maybe the experts are on to something with this piece of advice. 

Honestly, it is giving me a lot of self-reflection time where I can review everything as a whole. I made a lot of mistakes. But were they mistakes? Or was it just me being "me" and him not liking that aspect to me? I am now recalling comments I made that I think started to add up over time. There were things I said that from the perspective of another, could be seen more negatively than the intention. I guess I forgot that the most important thing about dating is that you are getting to know someone. You are vetting a complete stranger, so you can decide if that person is the one you want in your life. 

I am in so much pain because rejection never feels good, but this was inevitable. I just didn’t know it yet. I think that my lack of experience has me jumping on every piece of advice hoping for some magical solution to all my problems. That’s just not how the world works. The issue is that we live in shades of grey. Which means that what works now, may not work later. Or what works for you, may not work for me at all. I don’t understand why I am not a cookie cutter or better said, a Sheeple. Why can’t I just fit. 

Although my heart feels like it could fall into a thousand pieces, it comes down to whether love was enough. It wasn’t this time. I want to give up. Throw my hands and scream because what am I doing. I am aging. These goods are expiring and soon, no one will even want the outside packaging, either. I know this was an important lesson I learned. I know that I am blooming at a rate that makes me revisit the possibility of “being on the spectrum”. I also know that half the solution is writing down the problem. This is me, writing down the problem. Am I the problem? Is there no one out there that fits into the world like I do? Or really, doesn’t fit, in the way that I do not fit. I keep drifting into these realms of fantasy, where I am better. I am not me and people smile at me because they are happy to see me. And then I wake up and I am alone. Again... 

Finding someone is not about the job they have, the car they drive or even the clothes they choose to wear. It’s about the person they choose to be every day. Living is a choice. Loving is a choice. Just about everything about us is a choice. Why do we so often make the wrong choices? Or the choices that set us down the harder path. I understand what happened. I can even guess a lot about what is going to happen next. But now I must move forward knowing that even after all this time and growth, I am still being dumped for just being me. How much of me do I have to hide to be accepted? How much of me do I lose as I learn to conceal who I really am? Why can’t I just be me? Often revisited by the haunting theme of this life, that all the love I have had in this world has been unrequited. That I love more than I can receive. Maybe that’s on me because we are the sum of all our choices. How does one carry that? That we are the sole reason for our own unhappiness. 

The bottom line to my shadow entry, day one, is the Billy Eilish song, I love you. “I love you and I don’t want to.”

I created this current moment of unhappiness with a series of choices. But you can't say I didn't try. I shot my shot, and these are the results. Soon this will be a memory I can revisit, and my glasses will be more rose colored than the very dark poop shade they are now. That's why it is so vital for me to write it down. Everything. The good and the bad. It only feels bad right now because I saw a happy future melt in front of my eyes while the person burning it all down to the ground only had an apathetic glance for my direction. Maybe this is the best kind of rejection though, because now I have my closure. Where there was love is now only an empty space that longs to be filled once more. Distraction will fill the void until my heart is ready to try again. Until then readers, I sign off knowing that feelings are going to happen whether or not we are ready. So, plan those crying sessions. God forbid you look the way you feel inside.

-Jen