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

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 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... 

Here I go, in Ink no less

I realize as I compose this, to cite the movie, the social network

“The internet is not written in pencil Mark, it’s written in ink.”

You reach a point in your life where you stop caring what the world thinks and just start living. Every day I am searching for the best part of me. Hoping I can use a simple excuse for my failures; like how we only ever tap into a small percentage of our brain’s potential. However, only you make you who you are today. As a wise man in my life constantly reminds me, you create your own reality. I retorted back in my youth saying that if this were true, I would be a popular cheerleader. I was 15. Ten years later and I can confidently tell you that I could have been a popular cheer leader if only I wanted to work for it. I have also learned that nothing in this world is achieved just because you want it. I must confess my laziness. I dream of a world where things are brought at my beck and call; much like the Egyptian queens back in the day. Gorgeous and powerful, how envious am I.

Life for me is full of hard lessons. Unpaid bills to a soap opera love life. I am not complaining, but it is clear I desired these things when I set out on my journey to get what I want with the smallest amount of effort as possible. Myself like others often realize too late that with a lot more effort, our lives could’ve immensely improved. Case in point, the use of the word could. Could, would, should are words constantly haunting my vocabulary.

It is all relative though, because the path that has happened has in fact already happened. Besides the fact that the world has not yet presented a time machine for commercial use (god only knows what the world militaries are capable of) but if we were to change the smallest moment, who knows what butterfly effect could occur. Some say that if we had taken out Hitler, his high commander could have taken his place. We lost a lot of people to their cause. Who is to say more or less people would’ve died if Hitler was taken out sooner? I use this example because this used to be my counter argument for the possible future use of time machines. It was brought to my attention one day, the cruelty of Hitler’s high commander and his being next in line to take over the movement. I guess we already know that didn’t actually happen when Hitler did die. But who knows what would’ve happened earlier on in his reign. We can not change the past, and if we could, why should we?

Someone who dreads their past actions is inadvertently telling their self and the world how much they hate them selves. Change, in any form, changes you, even by the slightest. You think telling me the latest gossip is delightful, but it changes my opinion of the people in the gossip. I could live my entire life with out knowing that Suzie’s husband is allowed a monthly prostitute because he can’t get it up any more with out this compromise. In this sentence, I learned several things I should not have known unless both Suzie and her husband told me directly with means of advice or a request. Now when I look at Suzie, I see despair and no self-respect. Now when I see her husband, I think pig and judge him harsher than if he had told me directly. Logical? Hell no. It makes no sense once so ever, unless you are thinking from a respect point of view. Maybe I respect his honesty and submission to me for help more than I disapprove of his actions. The same with Suzie.

I can not lie. A friend came to me with their own personal Suzie situation, slightly different, as there were no real attachments. Over time, I took Suzie’s honesty to heart and I could no longer stand by and watch my friend go against every moral fiber in my body. I often worry that I was jealous. She does have a more adventurous life style than I could ever imagine living. Sometimes I wonder if my own unclear feelings for her were my source of jealousy. But mostly, I wonder why our talks meant nothing. I did confront this person, but how do you say “Stop telling me your life story every day” and how does one respond. There should be no secrets between best friends. However, I think you can with hold facts without lying. The scary part is that I was the exact same way. I treated her like my personal diary. Telling her things I probably would not have ever written privately let alone share with a living person. I cut ties with this person once I realized her negativity brought out my negativity. This is what I tell me self. No person is with out sin and yet I constantly cast stones. I miss this person every day and I know she misses me. This is good news because it means we can rebuild this burnt bridge. We just can’t do that right now.

I’m telling you my deepest, darkest thoughts because sometimes you simply need opinion on them. I know that I am not crazy or delusional, but I also know that no matter how much you love seclusion, we all need human interactions. I often flee human interactions blaming them or saying how much I love my solitude. How much of that is true and how much of that is a load. I am often rejected by my peers. My opinions are not politically correct or I do not understand appropriate conversation for the given moment; or my favorite, open mouth-insert foot. Either way, it is easier for me to reject than to be rejected. I will say though, I do enjoy my solitude, immensely. Call it a coping mechanism if you like, but to me, this is my life.

What upsets me the most about my life is my self appointed status. There are two types of people in every scenario. The giver, the taker. The right, the wrong. The half empty, the half full. The two types I am thinking of are the leader and the follower. I have spent so much time trying to lead only finding my self always following someone else. This is why I could not be around the negativity. It really does come out of me when my leader exudes it themselves. I said at the beginning of this much too long blog that I was looking for the best part of me. Really, I am looking for the leader inside me. Why do I have to be a follower? If America says to me, that I can be any one I want to be, then I would like to be free. Free of my own chains. It’s mental though, motivation. Without obligation, I find my self sleeping, waiting. I have a messy house and yet getting out of bed is the biggest chore I face daily. WHY? I leave you with this question in hopes you have the answer. If I knew, I would not be in bed typing this right now.