Showing Up

Becoming Okay with “I Don’t Know”

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I don’t do well with the unknown. I don’t think I am alone in this. However, I’m living in the middle of a great unknown right now. Maybe even an unraveling. No, definitely an unraveling.

Last night, when I couldn’t sleep, I wondered why. I’d only slept 5 hours the night before. I felt restless. Couldn’t get comfortable. I tried to read, tried coloring in my paint by numbers app, nothing until about 5a. It was about the time I fell asleep that it hit me.

Nearly everything I have identified myself by is falling away or has fallen away. Shedding parts of your lifelong identity aren’t just as easy as brushing crumbs off a counter. There are layers upon layers upon layers. And when you think you’ve peeled off the final layer, you realize this is a task that is going to take a while, maybe the rest of your life.

Not to mention, there are so many emotions involved. Trauma. Shame. Guilt. Sadness. Searing anger. Disappointment.

I’ve spent most of my life in defense mode, survival mode, with a wall taller, more fortified, or bigger than anything Trump can imagine around me. Always ready to either fight or flight or completely shut down. Shutting down as a teenager felt easy, but in my 30s, I’m facing what I did not feel strong or capable or smart enough to handle back then. I’m not exactly sure I’m strong, capable, or smart enough to face them now, but it’s no longer a choice to keep avoiding them.

Childhood and teenage me numbed out or took flight, nearly 37-year-old me walks around looking for a fight. Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong, I dare you, it says. Treat me like I’m stupid or naive, say something about my weight, tell me I’m too much or too emotional. Fucking try me. Okay, maybe I’ve always been like that too, it is just more focused these days and my patience for bullshit is thinner.

I’ve spent a lot of time lately realizing my life is my own. I am my own responsibility. What I do, say, think, believe, feel, and how I live is up to me and for me. I can’t live for anyone else but me. I will never be who my mom wants me to be or the way she thought I might live out who she wanted to be or felt like I could be for her. I will never be quiet, submissive, and compliant like my dad always wanted me to be.

I am outspoken and I talk a lot. (Or really, I vacillate between talking incessantly and taking an unintended monk-like vow of silence.) I am introverted but typically outgoing (see: my vacillation between talking and monk-like silence). I love to use the word “fuck.” I have always been, and will always be, curious about sex and have a unfiltered sense of humor. (Though in all of this, I try to be respectful of others and behave appropriately for their comfort levels in these areas.)

I have never been containable, which both parents reminded me a lot like it was something to be ashamed of mostly because I’m female, but which I realize now is a superpower. I don’t like being told what to do, I’m stubborn, I also refuse to walk blindly into anything anymore (and I’m not sure I ever did unless it was on purpose), and I am done allowing people to tell me what to think about myself and my life. (Now, if I can just figure out how to be my own boss so I can work for myself, haha.) I was taught growing up that I could not trust my heart, body, gut, or mind, that I needed direction from someone or Someone else.

I have felt restless my whole life. Curious and questioning about everything even when I let other people shame me out of it by threatening that I would isolate myself if I believed differently than them. I felt so starved of love and a sense of belonging growing up that I squashed and belittled every thought I had that opposed those around me. I guess this is that part of human evolution where we adapt to survive, and adapt I did.

Last week, it hit me when I started to write about some of my identity changes that I don’t have to explain myself. That hit me like a ton of bricks. All my life, I’ve tried so hard to make people understand me and gotten so upset when I’ve felt unheard or flat out ignored. I have laid myself bare as a plea for my parents, friends, and John to please know me, understand me, and affirm/validate me. Or I’ve used it as a way to try to get them to open up to me. See? I’m telling you everything, now it’s your turn. But it wasn’t just to connect. It had more manipulative intentions. It was about control. I wanted them to open up so I knew everything I could know about them so a) when they used their knowledge of me to hurt me, I could do the same, and b) because I thought it would protect me if I could predict what they were going to do before they do or right as they were doing it.

But, I attracted people whose defense mechanism was, and maybe is, to keep me at arm’s length. So I could never fully know them, so they would never become predictable to me, so I could not manipulate or control them. This is a smooth steel wall I’ve tried to climb with John for eight years, never able to grip my limbs onto anything, just sliding down over and over again. I watched a video the other night about attachment styles, and as soon as I heard/read about the insecure avoidant attachment style, I knew that was the attachment style John has. It is one that struggles with control and trust issues and dealing with emotions (or avoiding them at all cost).

I, on the other hand, have a similar one that screams, “I’m okay as long as you’re okay” and almost never feels okay because I can’t tell how okay the other person is while also trying to please them, and if they’re not okay, I’m not okay – the insecure anxious attachment style. Our attachment styles are a topic for another post though.

I have put so much trust in what others think of me for so long, and those whom I’ve trusted with this seem to recognize this mistrust I’ve had with myself and treat me how I treat me, like I’m naive, stupid, and incapable of making any good decisions on my own. I really cannot put into words the anger this has caused in me lately. Not so much with the other person, but with myself.

See, the thing is, no, I don’t have to have explain or justify myself, life choices, or anything else with anyone else, except maybe the person or people I’m making those decisions with. However, I do have to explain them to myself.

What I have realized lately is this: I’ve had these lifelong fears of abandonment, rejection, and neglect, being unloved and unwanted while doing all of these things to myself. I have been projecting all of those fears because I could not look inside of myself and see that the one hurting me the most was me. 

I have spent so much time worrying about how everyone else will perceive the changes happening within me that I haven’t bothered to check in with myself. Hey, Amy, how are you feeling? How are you dealing with this? Are you okay? What do you need? I didn’t even realize how much I need to do this, how important this really is, because I was always taught that my self was not a priority, that I was supposed to put the needs of others before my own.

I think for all the times I’ve felt so hurt and angry at others for ignoring me, it has been my body and my spirit being hurt and angry at being ignored by me and put as a lower priority than others. 

And you know what? No, I’m not okay. I haven’t been for a while. I am coming to terms with things I’ve believed my whole life being mostly, but I don’t think intentionally, lies and a container to scare, control, and diminish me. Keep me in line. Keep me distracted from the real shit going on around me and to keep me from fighting against the injustices going on around me that I’ve been privileged enough to not recognize.

I’m not sure I am ready to go public with what these things are, but they are the bedrock of who I have been my entire life. Me trying so hard to be good enough to be loved, only to be told I haven’t been this from the start while also realizing I have been (what a winding road of a sentence). Yeah, I know it all sounds confusing and vague right now. I hate vague posts because I too am nosy and judgmental, but right now, I am putting myself first. Figuring out where I stand, how I feel, and if I want anyone else to know anything else about this.

Suffice it to say, I am in a great unknown. Thankfully I’m not alone in this, as the more I walk along this dark path, the more lights I find in various places, communities of people who tell me, “I know exactly how you feel,” and people who don’t feel exactly as I do but who tell me they understand why I feel that way. At the same time though, I feel alone. I am also coming to terms with the fact that it is okay if others don’t understand me as long as I understand me (or try to). My validation most importantly needs to come from within, though yes, it helps when others do it too.

But this isn’t something to look at with nothing but trepidation. I am becoming the person I was always and am meant to be. Right now, because I am still dealing with lifelong shame, trauma, and a scarcity/survival mode mindset that includes people-pleasing and codependency, the authentic me is still a little bit of a stranger. Or maybe an acquaintance, like I recognize her, talk to her occasionally, but don’t really have a real connection with. I am learning how to know someone without it being as a means of controlling them, and this includes myself. A relationship without manipulation or high steel walls or trying to work out my issues through them. Boundaries are good, and I’m learning how to establish and maintain them, something I was never taught or that were never respected growing up.

I was not born with a deceitful heart or worthless or unlovable until someone else loved and sacrificed for me. None of us were. I refuse to believe this anymore. I refuse to believe I should be ashamed of myself for who I am at my core. I was born loved and will always be loved, no matter what. I was created from the same materials as the earth, sky, and universe. I am small in the grand scheme of things, but I play a role like everything else created. I am just as needed, just as important even in my insignificance in this vast, infinite creation.

I have always loved Marianne Williamson’s words, “Who are you to play small? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.” I’ve said for years that I’m done playing small, but playing small is safe and comfortable. Not easy, but safe and comfortable.

I will be 37 years old in 11 days, and as I get into my late thirties, I realize, life is finite, I can’t keep waiting for everything to align to live my life fully as I am. That’s not even a real thing that happens. I am living now and have been since the minute I was born. I can and will continue figuring things out along the way and make room for the person I am becoming and will become as I keep moving along.

There is no one “real” me. I, like everything else in this universe, am constantly evolving. And often, evolution requires deconstruction or even destruction. We see it every day in nature itself. Hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, floods, erosion, eruptions, the earth is constantly making room for new, reminding us we are always all in flux, and shifting to maintain balance. Now, instead of clinging to the parts of me I need to let go or expectations of others or perceived expectations of others as a means to feel adequate and worthy of love, I’m thanking them for how they got me here and letting them go.

A couple of weeks ago, I cried in bed next to John, “I feel like I am living my life in one giant circle, forever coming back to the same place, people, and experiences!” I was so upset because John didn’t get the job he interviewed for in Savannah, and it meant we weren’t moving out of the Atlanta area. I thought, though I knew better, that maybe if we moved to a new area, my life might get better, easier. (Just like I’ve thought with losing weight, getting married, getting out of debt, and making more money.) I could find a job without worrying that the people I interview for know me already from past jobs and past bosses who probably don’t have kind things to say about me. Maybe there’d be some new area I could find a job in, something more creative, even if it paid less.

But we are staying here. Thankfully, we are moving this month back to Smyrna and it’s not the apartment complex we lived in before we moved to Chicago. That is different. I am different. John is different. Our marriage is different. This is not going in circles on flat land, this is spiraling up the staircase which means coming back around to the same things sometimes. Until I face the deepest, most broken, most painful and shameful parts of me, I will continue to run into them.

(And as soon as I find a job, I will be going back into therapy.)

I have identified with my trauma, shame, sadness, resentment, and guilt for far too long. Identified with being a child of divorced parents, raised in an abusive, traumatic, and dysfunctional environment. Identified with the size of my body and always being too big, too loud, too outspoken, too brash, too stubborn, too much. Identified with a religion with a book and leaders all too okay with using shame and the fear of condemnation and eternal separation from love to incite pain, violence, and suffering in anyone who doesn’t conform to it, especially women, instead of the love, grace, mercy, and forgiveness that is talked about in the beginning of the second half of that book. I have felt and known a lot of it was bullshit most of my life, but did not know anything else but that and did not want to feel even more ostracized than I already did, so I followed along (like I mentioned early, intentionally blinding myself once I knew better for self-preservation).

I don’t know what to do with quiet, calm, and peace. It stirs up turmoil inside of me and makes me want to create drama and stress for myself, and, oops, John. Old habits die hard. I’ve been in survival mode my whole life, not realizing until recently I don’t need to anymore. No, it’s not going to be smooth sailing from here on out, but trust isn’t black or white.

Trust isn’t about perfection. Trust is an action taken that tells me I will be okay no matter what, a fulfilling life is about risks, and oh my god, it is okay to make mistakes. That’s something I was taught against growing up, being taught that mistakes were bad, why couldn’t I “just behave,” failure deemed me worthless, I had to be perfect to be loved. What a fucking lie. 

So here I am in the unknown. I mean, life has always been this way, but now I am embracing the lifelong unchartered territory I am moving in. Life is finite. This is it. My purpose is to acknowledge my connection to the universe around me in all of its moving parts, embrace whatever is coming as just a part of life, enjoy as much as possible, and release what needs to go.

October will be a busy month. John and I both turn 37 next week, him on the 10th and me on the 12th. We start moving to our apartment in Smyrna on the 13th, and my dad and brother Caleb are coming on the 20th to help us move the big furniture (or what is left after I sold almost everything). John is off from October 19-28, his first real time off in the two years we’ve been back in Georgia, so after we move out of our apartment in Marietta, Caleb is going to stay in our new apartment with our dogs while we go on vacation somewhere. I’m voting for the beach while it’s still warm, but we’ll see.

These are, at least, our plans. I’m also going to be more seriously applying for jobs during this time. I was fortunate to make enough money from the sale of our unwanted furniture to keep me afloat in paying off my credit card and car through October, but I will need a job by early to mid November.

I’ve learned a lot about myself in the past four months of being unemployed, and I’ve been facing a lot of what I’ve tried so hard to ignore most of my life. I am in another cycle of deconstruction and evolution and know this will be ongoing throughout the rest of my life. I am still learning it is okay not to do anything and that sometimes I will have to push myself (but with more love and grace and less harsh criticism like I was given growing up). I don’t profess to have anything figured out, and I’m learning that, really, no one totally has their shit together. It just seems that way on social media because we curate it that way.

Right now, I am getting to know myself as I am now. Being as authentic to who this person is as possible. Checking in with myself first. Trusting myself. Understanding that how others people think of me first of all doesn’t define me, secondly isn’t any of my business, and lastly isn’t nearly as important as how I think of me. Learning myself under all of my disguises used to try to be enough for everyone else. Becoming less passive, less passive aggressive, and telling others whom I know mean well, “I appreciate your input, but I am doing what is best for me in my way and even if you think I am wrong or naive because it isn’t how you’d do things, this is my journey to live and learn and I will and have to live with whatever happens along the way.”

Like I said earlier, I will not explain, justify, defend, or rationalize myself to other people unless it is in a discussion or decision that involves them. This will be incredibly hard for me because this has been forged into me, into that survival mode, all of my life. I’ve always been incredibly reactive, which those who have abused me feed off of and use to victimize themselves. But no, I’m practicing slowing down, taking deep breaths, remembering how others treat me is a reflection of them, not me, and the same applies in my thoughts, feelings, behavior, and reactions to them. I am asking myself, Why did that bother you so much? What part of you is this speaking to? What is triggering this behavior in you?  

And as far as boundaries go, here are a few things I will be drawing the line on, meaning I will no longer be an open book and will decide how much I want to share:

  • My religious beliefs (or for now, lack thereof)
  • My body: its weight, size, and look
  • Diet/Health
  • My marriage
  • My career choices
  • Where we live/whether we buy a house or not
  • Whether we have kids or not
  • Political beliefs
  • Other sensitive topics

I don’t know how much I will tell of what’s been going on with me lately, but I can tell you that facing this identity breakdown/evolution/deconstruction/whatever you want to call it and saying it out-loud to myself and those I trust most has felt so healing. And I’m just starting. I am still afraid of what may become known in the weeks, months, years to come, but as soon as I said the words to myself and those trusted people, my head cleared unlike any other way ever (without the use of Xanax). I felt free. The feeling waxes and wanes now as I begin to deal with all of the trauma I’ve experienced in those identities, but a truth has been spoken, and I know I’m on the right path.

In late August, I asked God/the Universe/myself/anyone listening with any sort of power or influence over all of this to break me of my need to know and control everything. And in the past few weeks, I’ve felt my iron grip on these needs tighten around my body to the point of suffocating and crushing me, then slowly relaxing and releasing. No, I’m not okay, I may not be okay for a while, but I am moving in the right direction.

I am becoming okay with “I don’t know” and finally, coming home to myself and healing my most important relationship of all, the one with myself. I am scared. I still want to run, fight, and distract myself with every possible thing, and that’s okay too. There’s no right or wrong here, just information. I will forever believe everything is working out as it is meant to, and I need to get out of my own way.

 

Letters to Myself, Showing Up

Letters to Myself, # 2 – Slow Down (They Don’t Love You Like I Love You)

Quotes about gratitude

(Thanks, Beyonce, for the title inspiration from your song, “Hold Up” from your best album yet, Lemonade)

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Dear Me:

Hey there, it’s me again. I want to thank you for your response in the first letter when you reminded me throughout a really stressful, busy week last week to find and hold on to my joy.

Thanks for allowing Happier Us to stick by my side through apartment A/C issues (and getting the property manager & maintenance supervisor to realize we needed a new unit), babysitting two small, very fun and active girls two days in a row, traveling to and from Savannah in about a 36-hour period (and keeping Cynical Us from screaming “We’re going to die!” as a very exhausted us and John tried to navigate the last 30 miles home in early morning Atlanta traffic), not getting really good quality sleep, and it being so damn hot outside.

In this letter, I want to talk about something else I’ve noticed directing our life and decisions: Scarcity Mindset. The feeling that there is never enough and we are never enough. The way it makes us settle for shit we don’t want, ignore our intuition, mistreat our body, envy others whom we think have what we can’t have because they have it, pushes us so hard to try to make money any way we can to pay off our debt and be financially secure (knowing that in this mindset, no amount of money will ever make us feel secure), and keeps us trapped in comparison and feeds our feelings of inadequacy.

It isn’t our fault. We were raised in a scarcity-based environment. In America, it is called capitalism. Being shamed for our so-called inadequacies, told we can have “it all” if we just work hard enough or have enough money to buy it (ignoring all of the privileges many have that a lot were not given or born with), and being told to rest is to be lazy, worthless, and dumb.

In our family, we were taught that money is scarce as we watched our family members go into massive credit card debt and then one bankruptcy after another and saw no one ever had enough to be happy. We were taught to fear money or see it as evil. We were never taught how to be responsible with it or how to give ourselves the power over it and not the other way around.

We were taught that appearances matter most. Not who we truly were or how we truly felt, but what we and our lives looked like.

Our family tried so hard to seem financially well off and like everyone had their shit together and there were never any conflicts or issues.

Don’t you remember how Daddy was so mean to Mama, the boys, and us on the way to church and how as soon as we got out of the van and walked in the church doors, he became the man all our youth group girl friends wished their father was like, who the women Mama knew in their Sunday School group wished their husbands were like? And how as soon as we were back in the van, his friendly, warm smile returned to a sneer and his honey-dipped words returned to venom?

Or how Lib, June, Brophy, and Robert congregated on the porch, laughing and talking whenever the police showed up because someone (sometimes us) called 911 because their violent fights were so loud and frightening?

From around kindergarten up, we learned that food wasn’t a security either. It isn’t that we were really ever short on food, but it was the shame around being told we couldn’t eat the food we wanted because it was “making us fat” and being a fat girl was a vicious, dreadful sin. It ruined our “appearance” of how a thinner body was seen as beautiful, smart, hardworking, and cared for, and our fat body only showed neglect, laziness, gluttony, and lacking self-care, self-respect, self-esteem, and intelligence.

The more food was held as forbidden to us and the more we were told our body was “wrong,” the more scarce food felt to us and the more we rebelled, binged on it, and hated our self.

And in puberty, not developing breasts or round hips and instead developing rounder, broader shoulders and a rounder version of the pot belly we’ve had since infancy made us even more of a disappointment and eyesore. Here, we learned that love, acceptance, desirability, and attractiveness was scarce, and we were to blame for it.

In these times of scarcity, or perceived scarcity, we are conditioned to rush. Rush to sneak the “forbidden” food and shove it down our throat thoughtlessly, without enjoyment, and riddled with shame and self-loathing. Rush to lose weight in whatever means possible so we can finally be considered attractive, lovable, and worthwhile. Rush to do whatever we can to please others, regardless of the way we neglect our self and our needs in the meantime. And then rush to numb our pain, shame, sadness, and anger by whatever means necessary, which for us was/is food and spending too much time scrolling through the internet and social media.

There is no slowing down in this scarcity mindset. No time to think. No time to consider. There is so much to do to finally get enough so we are finally considered enough, and with every step we take, the ruler measuring success, achievement, control, safety, adequacy, and being considered worthy of love and acceptance is pushed a little further out.

Driven by this mindset, we went to a college we didn’t really like, settled on toxic behavior by men we were attracted to and wanted to feel noticed and wanted by, accepted the crumbs of attention from toxic friendships out of deep loneliness, a deep mother and father wound, and always being taught to feel worthless and like we had to take whatever we could get.

We settled on one job after another because we were told it was “smart” and secure even though they stifled our creativity and left us feeling miserable and lost.

This scarcity mindset taught us love is scarce and we could lose it at anytime so we better not do anything to “rock the boat.”

Things like:

  • Don’t speak up about your hurts and anger.
  • Don’t do or say anything that could be seen as critical or he’s going to leave.
  • Always be pleasant.
  • Don’t talk too much.
  • Don’t be needy.
  • Don’t speak up for yourself.
  • Squelch those emotions, you know you have too many of them.
  • Don’t do anything that could make you seem like a burden.
  • And for God’s sake, lose the fucking gut already, no man wants to look at that.
  • Always remember that whatever has been given can and likely will be taken away.
  • Don’t get too comfortable.

You know, this mindset keeps me up at night worrying about dying and never getting to live the life I want many years to live. Makes me so afraid we will die young and miss out on all life has to offer us. Makes me feel sick to my stomach at thinking about John moving on, finding someone else, and realizing we were never the woman he thought we were or that he ever really loved.

I get angry too, thinking about everything we want to do and how we never seem to have the money to do it because we can’t find or keep a job in a healthy, fun, creative environment. It makes me think of friends and family who are traveling where I want us to travel, doing jobs I want us to do, having money I wish we had, and comparing way too much of myself and life to everyone else.

Where there is a scarcity mindset, there is a focus on what we don’t have and a furious impatience to get it. To have control. To know what’s coming next, how to get it, when it’ll arrive, and how happy we’ll “finally” be when it arrives. I mean, isn’t that all the lie of every diet and/or exercise program we ever try? Every book or movie or TV show about finding “the one”? The sales pitch behind every beauty product and fashion line?

Scarcity mindset is the mindset that sells and makes billions of dollars in marketing and advertising for every possible thing you can think of from diets to religion to fashion to cars to homes and etc. “Let me tell you what you lack, how others perceive your lacking, and how buying this product will finally make you happy.”

Where there is scarcity, there is depression, war, greed, famine, sexual/physical/emotional violence, addiction, infidelity, genocide, treating people who don’t look like us as an “other” and dehumanizing them, anxiety, power-grabbing, fear-mongering, and depravity. Scarcity makes us take whatever we can get, however we can get it, no matter who – including ourselves – gets hurt.

Most of all, it takes us out of the present and robs us of joy, peace, love, and gratitude. It clouds our intuition and depletes the quality of our life. And quality always matters more important than quantity.

Amy, we are enough. Our life is happening as it is meant to, in the timeline it is meant to be on. There is no one set timeline for everyone. There is no need to rush.

We don’t have to worry about not having enough or being enough. There’s nothing we need to do or change about us to be worthy of love. Our very name, Amy, MEANS “beloved.”

If there is anything we can hold on to in our constantly evolving spiritual faith and what we learned in church growing up, it is to not allow ourselves to get wrapped up in the trappings of this world. Everything is temporary but it doesn’t mean it is scarce. Being weighed down by all of the stress that scarcity brings mean not being able to see the constant flow of joy, opportunities for new beginnings, love, and good still alive all around us.

Let’s slow down when we think, rest, eat, and dream. Our body is worth trusting and wants us to trust it. We are so privileged and lucky, Amy, we really have no idea. Let’s focus on our abundance so we can share it with others. When we know what we have, we know what we can give.

There is enough food to fill our belly and to give us pleasure and we don’t have to feel ashamed of what we eat. We can enjoy, savor, and be mindful of how and what we eat and why we are eating. We don’t need permission to feed our body when it is hungry. We don’t need to eat past fullness out of fear we will never get to eat that food again. We don’t have to restrict anymore.

We can move our body for the sheer joy of it and in appreciation of all it has done, is doing, and will do for us however many years we are meant to live.

Let’s not be inactive because the diet mentality is so deeply ingrained and twisted around exercise in our brain that it is hard to separate moving our body from the hope of weight loss, which is really just a hope of being seen as worthy of love and acceptance.

Our body is strong and still somewhat flexible (let’s try some yoga for this, okay?) and healthy, let’s focus on the abundance of this and move our body out of that mindset.

We aren’t our family. Their money issues aren’t ours. Their inability to have healthy relationships and marriages and live authentic lives don’t reflect on us. We are not doomed to repeat their mistakes. If anything, we have learned from them. How about we stop living from all the “what not to do’s” we learned from them and start focusing on what we have overcome, let go, forgive, and move on to the healing and the abundant future awaiting us?

Perfectionism is another scarcity mindset lie. It doesn’t exist, nor should it. We are free to make mistakes and learn and grow from them instead of feeling ashamed of them.

We were not born evil and in need of being made good and lovable by someone else. We were born in the image of God, who is all things love and goodness. Forget all of the fear-mongering, shaming, narcissistic religious bullshit shoved down our throat as children. That was all about control, another scarcity mindset tactic, and Amy, we are free. We are so fucking free to be exactly who we are.

Our marriage to John is beautiful because it is real. It is raw, vulnerable, and ever-growing, and it is authentic, transparent, and real. Don’t compare it to someone else’s marriage. We can’t see into the lives of others.

Let’s not rush the healing, depth, effective communication, and intimacy in our marriage. God willing, our marriage is growing into a mighty oak wrapped in decades of rings with unbreakable, replenishing roots that sway with the wind without snapping.

Right now, it is still a young, vulnerable sapling, only eight years old. It needs love, care, grace, understanding, forgiveness, nurture, trust, faith, rest, unity, sunshine, and patience. It needs time and it will need storms. Don’t be afraid of this.

Let’s not worry so much about money. We have enough to get by on. Let’s not be in such a rush to pay off debt, save money, buy a house, or whatever we see others doing that it’s not yet our time to do that we settle again for work that isn’t right for who we are, forces our self to stifle who we really are and what we really want, and lie awake at night in such unnecessary fear, anger, envy, resentment, and frustration. And remember, just because someone else has what we want doesn’t mean there’s now less of it left for us.

Amy, the way out of this scarcity mindset we’ve lived our whole life in is trust. Trust in ourselves. Trust in God or destiny or the Universe or whoever created us and is running things. Trust in our body to work and look as it was written in our DNA. Trust that we are always abundant in love, even if rejected, abandoned, and hurt by the ones we love. Trust that pain and suffering are a part of life and not to be feared because we also trust there is an abundance of good and joy in the world, no matter what our Twitter feeds tell us daily.

Slow down. Take deep breaths. Live in the present. Feel emotions and know none of them are wrong and all of them are valid and valued. We are not too much. We are not a burden. We matter. Our dreams and passions matter.

Our purpose is to live as our authentic self, love who we are exactly as we are, love others exactly as they are, and know our purpose will shift and change as our story weaves, waxes, and wanes through everywhere we’ve been and everywhere we are headed, no matter how long or short the story is.

Everything is happening as it is meant to. Listen to your gut. Listen to your heart. Take care of yourself. Be responsible for how you treat yourself and others and how your words and behavior affect others. And live in gratitude because really, we have been through hell, but we have never been defeated and we’ve truly never been unloved. There is nothing scarce in who we are, what life has given us, or what life still has left in store for us.

Love,

Me

Beautiful You, Showing Up

Day 24 – Beautiful You – Describe Yourself

20190713_014255
From the book “Inward” by: Yung Pueblo

Today: In your Beautiful You journal, describe yourself as completely as you can.

I have put off writing this post for a week now because I’ve spent a lot of time wondering who I really am vs. who I think I am supposed to be in my too-high regard for what others think of me and how they perceive me. 

I’ve also spent a bit too much romanticizing some of my past and trying to recover who I’ve been at previous times, forgetting also what I’ve worked through since then.

Who am I now, at nearly 37 years old, married, and once again unemployed? Definitely more than just those things even if I allow just those labels to identify me all too often these days. 

I guess the answer is, who I am right now is fluid and forever transforming. Ugh, that sounds too vague. Even if the walls are constantly being repainted and the furniture changed out, the foundation of who I am is still pretty much the same.

So who I am right now? What is the foundation of me?

Last week, when I got a much-needed pedicure, the woman who did it and I got to talking about children and she asked me if I have any. I said, “No, but at nearly 37, I guess my window is starting to close and I need to decide soon, huh?” She said she would’ve guessed I was years younger and said, “It must be because you are a really happy person, I can see it in your face.” I joked back, “Having such chubby cheeks helps.”

Later, when I texted my mom and told her about it, she said, “I know you’ve had a rough year, but deep down, you are a joyful person. You laugh and smile a lot and that shows in your face and makes you look younger.”

I do find a lot to laugh about. I love to play around with my two dogs, Missy and Chewy. I find funny memes to share with John and my brothers. I think I’m pretty funny personally and laugh at my own jokes even when everyone else thinks my jokes aren’t that funny. My sense of humor varies from silly/goofy to sarcastic to dirty. 

As critically as I talk and think at times, I am also deeply optimistic. I’m currently in the midst of one of many deconstructing/sometimes self-destructive periods in my life, but I am still hopeful. I know it is temporary. I still know how to find something to smile and laugh about.

I love to read and learn and always have. I will read the book before I watch the movie, and though the book is better most of the time, I can think of several movie interpretations that turned out better, like The HelpThe Secret Life of BeesP.S., I Love You, A Time to Kill, and a few others. I read constantly, whether it is books, articles posted on social media, or stuff I google or see on Reddit. 

I’m on a lifelong path of continuous self-growth and self-evolving. I try to keep an open mind about most things and find the middle ground. I’m starting to learn it is okay to question the things I was once so sure about, like the Christian faith I was raised to believe in. 

In this process of continuous self-growth, my acute self-awareness flourishes. When I get angry with how others act or how I feel they’re treating me, I stop and think, Why does this bother me so much? What unhealed and hurting part of me is reacting to this? I am trying to become a more thoughtful and less reactive person.

I love to write. Author Jon Acuff wrote in his book Start that a passion is something you can do without ever being paid for it and something you lose track of time while doing. Writing is both of those for me.

I miss writing fiction. I miss writing songs. While I am getting better at verbally communicating my thoughts and emotions, which is especially important because tone can be hard to read in written communication and I can come across as a huge bitch sometimes, writing still helps me process my thoughts best. 

I’m an outgoing introvert. I can go between talking to people at 90 mph for hours to basically taking a vow of silence for 2 days. Like others in my family, I have rarely met a stranger. Being a southerner, this is especially true when I meet other college football fans because SEC football is its own language and religion. I have a very thick southern accent that refuses to subside despite John not having much of a southern accent. Not even living in Chicago for two years dampened it. Sometimes, I think it is charming; other times, I think it is annoying. Maybe those are the times I take the vow of silence, haha. 

I love to sing in the shower or alone in my car. I love singing along to Disney songs and musicals and often love movie soundtracks better than the movies. I also love to make up and sing silly songs about my dogs, mostly changing the words to songs already recorded. 

I love to dance and am not as shy about doing that in front of others if I’m at club or wedding. I mostly dance in the shower, while I’m getting dressed, baking, and/or waiting on my food to cook in the microwave. My dog Missy seems to love when I hold her and dance too, as she runs up to me whenever I start and waits for me to pick her up. It’s so cute.

I also love to bake, though I don’t do it as much as I used to because my body doesn’t react well to sweets anymore (yay, IBS, gastritis, and insulin resistance). Baking is one of the few things I connect with my dad on, and it is one of the few things that clears my head and helps me relax.

The other thing about me that connects my dad and me is that I’m a huge weather geek. I tell John every day I am ready to move closer to the beach because summer doesn’t feel right without afternoon thunderstorms and they seem to evade us here in Atlanta. I get mad when it storms down the road but not here. Thunder and lightning make me feel so alive.

I’m a night owl, something that I’ve been my whole life and probably always will be. Every time my schedule is interrupted when I’ve quit a job, I wind up sliding into my natural rhythm which puts me at staying up often until 3a or later and sleeping late. I’m most awake in the late afternoon and then again just after midnight. 

I wish I was more gentle, but I tend to be, as my great-grandmother Lib used to say, “a bull in a china shop.” I am strong and have strong enough hands to open my own jar, but often John has to take things from me before I destroy them. I also wish I was more patient, but I get frustrated and flustered easily. John says I have “Hulk hands,” strong and ferocious, so when I accidentally break something, the term is that I “Hulk-handed” it. 

I am sensitive and empathetic, no matter how I came about acquiring these traits. I can’t watch painfully awkward, violent, or sad parts of TV shows or movies. I cry easily. Get my feelings hurt easily. 

I am determined to have a vibrant, fulfilling life, so you can imagine how impatient and anxious I get when I don’t have the extra money to do things like travel. I’m also an all-or-nothing person so it is hard for me to see that even if I can’t fly across the country or world, there’s still plenty to see right where I live that doesn’t cost a lot of money or any, beyond maybe gas in my car.

I think I have this vision deep down of what I want my life to be like, but I can’t quite fully grasp it yet or I just see it in flashes. The flashes I see are things like living near the ocean, riding my bike in the sunshine, and having a small cottage style house with windows all around to let the sunlight in and a big kitchen, and baking for John, me, and friends. Lots of books to read, storms to watch roll in over the ocean, room to dance, songs to sing, conversations to have, and stories to listen to and write. This feels too easy at times or I don’t know how to get there so I ignore it, but I’m slowly learning it is okay to find joy in life, enjoy my life, and to stop rushing through the good to plan and brace for the inevitable pain and loss. To stop thinking I can’t just have good things, I have to earn or deserve them through lots of pain and suffering. That way of living and thinking is draining me though. I’m ready to experience and be enveloped in the good whether I deserve it or not. 

I could probably go on a bit more, but one thing is clear: I have a pretty good grasp of who I am. There are a lot of shifting parts going on inside of me and a lot I am moving through and healing from. I could’ve written about my struggles with my anxiety and depression, but even though these feel so big so often, they are really a mix of wonky brain chemicals, impatience, and the high expectations I hold for my life. I’m restless and antsy and so ready for more, but I also need to not neglect the present so often. It’s all just me trying to find balance, gratitude, compassion, forgiveness, and healing in my life. 

Even in the darkest depths of my sadness and worry, I’m excited about life and my potential to experience it. That’s a light that I don’t ever see going out because I’ve been through some shit and it’s yet to extinguish. It is a light that is with me for life.

 

Showing Up

Self-Care & Intuitive Eating

Intuitive Eating
Source: @lindatuckercoaching // Instagram

Well, I didn’t go into writing about my need for better self-care with the intention of starting a series, but here we are.

And today, I am writing about my history (albeit a dysfunctional one) with intuitive eating.

“Intuitive Eating” has become quite a buzzword in the health community and on social media in the past several years as fat and body positivity circles have increased the awareness that diets don’t work and eating disorders are being seen in girls as young as 7 or 8 years old. It was a term first coined by Evelyn Tribole and Elyse Resch back in the 1990s when they wrote the first edition of the book with the same title (note: not an affiliate link). 

Intuitive eating involves trusting our bodies to tell us when we are hungry, how and when to eat, and when we are satisfied. Though the term “intuitive eating” has been hijacked and branded into another restrictive diet on social media, true intuitive eating has absolutely nothing to do with weight loss and everything to do with listening to and trusting our bodies.

The sad and hard truth of body trust is that many of us have been told from a very young age that we cannot trust our bodies, that we need someone else (i.e., parent, partner, doctor, etc.) to tell us what our bodies need. I think this is especially true for cis-women and anyone who has or has had a uterus, ovaries, and a vagina, as we see in the constant political battles over reproductive rights. Our society has told us from the very beginning that our bodies, sexuality, thoughts, behavior, and decisions cannot be trusted and need to be kept under lock and key, the key to that lock belonging to anyone else but us.

The constant monitoring of the female (whether cis or otherwise) form is a means of control in a patriarchal society and financial gain for the beauty and “wellness” industries.

I can remember being as young as 5 or 6 years old and being told I could not have dessert because I was getting fat even when I was maybe 10 pounds overweight as determined by my pediatrician. All I wanted was an ice cream cone or my Easter basket candy or a Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pie. I watched over the years as my brothers were allowed to eat pretty much whatever they wanted, even when they were chubby, while my meals and body were constantly monitored and scrutinized, and where they were praised for being broad-shouldered and tall, I was made fun of and shamed.

Thus began my dysfunctional relationship with food and my body.

I know as deeply as my mom’s actions and words towards me hurt me, they were coming from her own pain, shame, and the same battles she faced in the same household – my maternal grandmother and great-grandparents and uncles – and her desperate desire to prevent me from experiencing what she experienced. But dysfunction breeds dysfunction if you just repeat the words and actions done to you.

I first learned about intuitive eating in the 1990s and even read the first edition of Evelyn and Elyse’s book back then. I mean, when you’ve been dieting since age 6 and you’re a voracious reader always looking for some way to improve yourself, you come across these things. Back then, it was still heavily steeped in diet talk because they were just learning and developing what intuitive eating meant and no one in healthcare or the media was ready to give any attention to anything that might lead to fewer buyers of all of the diet and “fitness” products.

I stumbled upon it again about 3 or 4 years ago when I first began following people like Jess Baker, Christy Harrison, Kelsey Miller, and other anti-diet bloggers, dietitians, and podcast hosts. At this point, I had kept off 50-60 pounds for about 10-12 years, but still felt like I was on shaky ground. I still tracked my food and exercise in MyFitnessPal nearly daily and was still absolutely terrified that if I ever stopped, I would regain all of the weight I’d lost and then some.

And then my fear came true.

I have felt like such a failure over the past 2 years now. And I am so exhausted from fighting with my body daily and trying to work through the noise in my head that tells me I am killing myself, I’ll get diabetes before long, probably die of a massive heart attack like my maternal grandmother, great-great grandmother, and great-great grandfather did, that John is probably disgusted by me, I’ll never be able to wear cute clothes again, how did I let this happen, all of the hard work I did is gone, etc.

I probably worry about dying every single day here lately, and I know so much of it is because it is so ingrained in me that being “obese” (or even “morbidly obese” by the bullshit BMI standards) means I will get diabetes, have a heart attack, and die by age 40 if not sooner.

I keep making half-assed attempts to log my food in MyFitnessPal again and weigh myself daily and all, but then I just stop because I get so angry at myself for knowing better and still buying into the diet mentality bullshit.

I am so tired of this.

I am tired of not trusting my body and my hunger and fullness levels. Tired of ignoring all of the ways my body talks to me like with my exhaustion and craving for sweets and when I turn to food when what I really need is to be heard and maybe hugged. Tired of feeling afraid to let go completely of my desperate desire to lose weight. Tired of still seeking a body that I am very likely never meant to have because my body is so set in how it wants to work and what it wants to weigh. I am tired of the shame in feeling like I’ve “ruined” or even “destroyed” my body when it actually works pretty fucking well every single day.

Intuitive eating feels like such a foreign concept for me because I don’t think I was ever allowed to eat intuitively, not even as a young child. I was forced to clean my plate, even threatened with a spanking if I didn’t (though finishing my plate has hardly ever been a problem for me).

I was told I could not have the sweets I wanted, so I learned how to sneak them. I got really good at muffling the sound of the cellophane housing an oatmeal creme pie by pressing it against my leg as I shuffled into the bathroom to damn near swallow it whole.

I overate as a big “fuck you” to my parents, grandmother, great-grandparents, and uncles who always had some critical comment about how and what I ate.

When I went to college, it turned into a food free-for-all because no one was there to tell me no. Too bad the shame didn’t stay back in Montgomery too when I moved to Mobile because this food freedom turned into a vicious binge then shame and self-loathing cycle until I was finally as fat as my family had been calling me my entire life.

I still moralize food and congratulate myself on the days I eat “well,” meaning within a certain calorie range or something along those lines. When this happens, I sabotage myself out of anger towards myself for still patting myself on the back for following the dieting mentality that has plagued me my whole life.

But like many of my dysfunctional habits – like being codependent and controlling – binge eating served a purpose in my teens and college years. I didn’t yet know how to process all of the trauma I was experiencing at the time and didn’t yet know that my being an empath and highly sensitive was a good, healthy thing, so I used food as a coping technique.

And now, at 36, I am in some ways thankful for that food but also really fucking confused with how to implement intuitive eating for myself.

Sometimes I have moments of clarity, like realizing I really like to eat egg sandwiches for dinner even when I have the makings for a salad or some kind of meat and veggies dinner. Sometimes self-care is making and eating an egg sandwich because I am too tired to stand at the stove and cook anything that is going to take any longer and I just need something easy and somewhat healthy to feed my body with. Or I understand now that with my thyroid being out of whack again over the past year and the exhaustion it, PCOS, and endometriosis bring, I will crave sugar for some kind of burst of energy. And on the backside of that, being insulin resistant means my body will struggle to process that sugar I am consuming for energy and my hunger levels will go haywire.

But maybe that’s how it works. My brain thinks it’s all just supposed to click into place like the clarity and resolve that always comes in the first few days or weeks of a new diet.

I don’t want to approach intuitive eating with the diet mentality. I want to approach it with my desire to have a healthy relationship with my body. Just as I am still learning to trust John in our marriage because of my fears of repeating the dysfunction I was raised in, I know trusting my body will take time. I’m just not the most patient person, haha.

In my desire to practice better self-care, I have deleted the MyFitnessPal and Happy Scale apps off of my devices. I can’t say I will stop weighing myself completely, but I am weaning myself off of the scale. I have unfollowed all of the keto and weight loss Instagram accounts I’d been following in the hopes of having an “amazing” before and after transformation picture where I’m suddenly lean and talking about how I can finally be me and have the life I’ve held myself back from for so long. (EYE ROLL emoji here.) Instead, I am following intuitive eating, body positive, and health at every size accounts.

Yesterday, I had this thought that I need to feed myself how I wish I’d been fed as a child. Without the rules, shaming, and criticism. Some of my weight gain has been because I decided to stop restricting myself from eating ice cream and found myself eating it for dinner 2 or 3 nights a week. Now, I have it maybe once or twice a month because I’m finally starting to trust that it is never off-limits. I know if I had a little girl, I would want to treat her how I didn’t get treated, so maybe I need to treat myself like that little girl? It sounds very psychobabble, but maybe the key to being kinder to myself and more accepting and trusting of my body is to treat myself like I would treat my daughter.

This post isn’t meant to solve anything but to share that I understand how important feeding my body what it needs regardless of its nutritional or caloric value but also share why that is still so hard for me right now.

Self-care is not a familiar practice for me because I was raised to believe that I’m supposed to put others first, so it would make sense that this also means acknowledging, listening to, respecting, and trusting my own body would be difficult.

This post will also not be the last time I talk about my journey with intuitive eating, and I definitely won’t ever have it all “figured out.”

I started this blog to work through all of the stories I’ve told myself my entire life in order to either end the stories or change the plot. My story about my body is a lifelong one but it can be a better one. My brothers and I talk about how we learned what not to do in all of the dysfunction we grew up in. I have applied that in my marriage and finances and my constant striving to know myself better and help myself heal and become stronger and healthier.

I want to do this with my relationship with my body too. It feels like the final frontier which I guess it is because it is the relationship that will be with me until I take my final breath.

What do intuitive eating mean to you? Have you ever had a troubled relationship with food and your body? How do you handle the constant barrage of messages on how you should eat, exercise, look, and weight? 

Showing Up

2019 Words: “Show Up”

Image Source: Canva

My words for 2019 were originally going to be “Focus” and “Finish.” The thought behind this was this was going to be the year I focused on things like my debt and health and finished the bad habits that got me in debt and have been detrimental to my health.

But those are impossible, black and white, all or nothing goals, and that kind of thinking is the most detrimental of all and allows no grace or room for failure and growth.

Grace and room for growth are what I’ve starved myself from most my entire life and why life feels too hard to live most of the time.

The past several months, basically since my last blog post in December, have been quite challenging.

There has been some good, like I have a new job that pays well and offers benefits I haven’t had in 3 years, and we have a new dog, a 5-year-old terrier mix named Chewy:

But there have been some challenges:

  • When I went for my annual exam back in December, my OB-GYN did bloodwork, which showed my thyroid was very underactive again, my triglycerides were high (though my overall cholesterol was great), and I am pre-diabetic.
  • The worse hypothyroidism is likely the reason for my intense and chronic exhaustion and weight gain/struggle to lose weight over the past year, along with the hair loss and scaly and dry skin and hair I’ve had.
  • My PCOS-related insulin resistance is leading to diabetes, and I have felt really betrayed by my own body while also beating myself up for not eating better foods and not exercising. Trying to get a grasp on IE when my insulin levels and blood sugar are all over the map and I am constantly exhausted and craving carbohydrates feels really hard too.
  • John and I had our worst fight ever in mid-January to the point I worried our marriage was over. In hindsight, it was a fight we needed to have because we both said a lot of things that needed to be said, but it felt so awful and scary in the midst of it.
  • My mom and I had a big fight at the end of December because she wants me to believe in God the way she does and I can’t and she won’t try to understand where I’m coming from and accused me of being defensive and combative when I tried to explain my feelings and it just reminded me so much of our past fights and how powerless I felt in them.
  • I also feel like I will never be able to talk to her about my struggles with Christianity, as I know she feels I will never understand her faith. I do understand how much it has saved and comforted her in her pain, and I am grateful she has that. It is the close-mindedness and political side that I can’t understand, that pains me and makes me feel like I can’t be totally open or safe in our relationship.
  • I started the year with $9200 in credit card debt and felt very frustrated all of January because the whole transition with my new job kept me from really paying anything off right off the bat.
  • The driver job I had for the week of the Super Bowl turned out way differently than as advertised, and I lost a week’s pay from it that I didn’t really recoup.

In the midst of all of this, I have had this little voice inside of me telling me, “Speak up for yourself. Stop just going along with everything. What do you want?

In the fight John and I had, out of anger, he said, “If you just had more confidence, everything would be so much better.” He also said everything was going well and I just “had to fuck it all up.”

That little voice led me to tell John two things:

  • Just because things are going well for you in our marriage DOES NOT mean they are going well for me.
  • While I struggle with confidence in my body and how I look, I am very confident with who I am as a person. I know I am smart and strong and extremely capable and I am confident to show this to others which is one reason I beat out over 600 applicants for my current job. I know I am a good person and know I deserve to treated with kindness and respect.

I have allowed people to run me over for so much of my life. To tell me or shame me into what I believe, think, feel, and how to act. To cause me to shrink and shrivel myself down to nothing. I have allowed people to keep me from inhabiting my whole body, no matter what it looks like, and to convince me it is not and I am not good enough. I have allowed people to convince me that, like John said, I am always fucking everything up with my feelings and needs and words.

That voice telling me to speak up is a small one in a cacophony of a lifetime of self-criticism and self-loathing that demands that I stay small and quiet. But it is growing louder.

After two jobs, one for 6 years and another for 6 months, where I allowed abusive and demeaning behavior because I felt like I had to, just as I did growing up, I am finding myself thinking more of what I need in my new job and how to speak up for it. It’s still tough though. I still feel timid asking my new boss for things and telling her when I am overwhelmed and need help, especially because my tendency is to just suck it up.

My new boss seems to be a very genuine person and doesn’t try to be formal and definitely doesn’t micromanage. She says what she thinks, comes to work in flip-flops, khakis, and a polo shirt, and she believes in me. Said I was her first interview of the day and I set the bar for the rest of the day so high no one else could reach it, and she had to hire me as soon as she could.

But then again, after being burned twice, I have new boundaries when it comes to work.

I started to go with “Speak Up” as my words for 2019, but no, it is more than that.

In speaking up for myself, I am SHOWING UP for myself.

And that is what I need most, to show up for myself in all aspects of the words.

I am showing up for my health by rejoining the LA Fitness gym by my job so I can exercise after work. It is funny how we can feel too tired to exercise but it is by exercising often times that we gain more energy. I also want to feel more wholly inhabitative (is that a word?) of my body and exercise helps me do this.

I have also followed my doctor’s suggestion of increasing my Levothyroxine dosage to light a fire under my thyroid. I started the 175g dosage in mid-January and when he did follow-up bloodwork in mid-February, my thyroid hormones were already improving. It takes about 6-8 weeks to start feeling better, so I am trying to rest more/get more sleep overall and in the meantime.

I also got a much-needed haircut (and went back to my natural brunette color so I can grow out my roots without it being so obvious) to help with the health of my hair and the hair loss.

In addition, I started taking a multi-vitamin again.

I can recognize that my insulin resistance is causing my constant up and down with hunger and this is triggering all of my fears about gaining more weight, becoming diabetic, and that I need to restrict foods which will just lead to more disordered and likely binge eating. I have started looking into seeing a HAES nutritionist and maybe a therapist but I need to figure out if I can afford to pay for either since I’ve found neither that are covered under my insurance.

I am showing up for my financial health by taking a proactive stance with the money I make and how I spend it. I have a spreadsheet with probably 10 tabs detailing how much I make and how I make it (regular job, selling stuff, side gigs like the Super Bowl gig) and how I spend it.

My two main goals for this year are to pay off my credit card and save at least $2K. Since January 1st, I have paid off $960 of credit card debt and will probably end the month at over $1000 paid off because I get paid weekly now instead of bi-weekly. I have also saved up $400 in the past 6 weeks or so.

I will get two paychecks from my Super Bowl gig, one for regular hourly pay which I got in the mail last Saturday and one for the 20% gratuity of each job which I will get in the mail a month from now. Both checks are going straight to my credit card debt. Any money I get outside of my paycheck like from rebate apps I use goes straight to savings. Same with money I make selling stuff online, like over $100 from selling clothes, a purse, and shoes on Poshmark.

I also spoke up and asked John for his credit card to pay for Missy’s mouth infection surgery this week (4th one since July 2017, sadly, and no idea yet why it keeps happening) when I picked her up after work. I’m glad he paid for it because the $815 her oral surgery cost was more than I had in the bank and would’ve wiped out all the progress I’ve made on my credit card debt payoff.

Like many Americans, we learned we owe money to the IRS on our taxes this year thanks to the new tax bill. Because John was smart and maxed out his IRA contribution last year, we owe a lot less than we would have. He paid the $994 tax bill since he has the money from working so much overtime and paying off all of his own debt, and he wants me to focus on paying off my debt this year. We are getting $886 back from the state of Georgia, which is massive and more than we’ve ever gotten back before. He said I could use that towards my debt too, which I will be. I am very thankful for John’s help in this.

It is hard for me to say no to myself just as it is for me to say it to those closest to me. I still want to shop online when I’m bored or sad. I still get tired of eating a sandwich every day at work and want to go to Chick-Fil-A or something.

I am also so incredibly impatient. I know just like with weight gain, the debt accumulation didn’t happen overnight. And in the same way, I won’t pay it off overnight either. Even slow progress is progress, and I am trying to focus more on the present and what I can do now instead of thinking so far ahead.

Showing up for myself allows for me to acknowledge and validate where and who I am in my life. It helps me see me. I so often want to feel seen by others, like John and my parents, but I neglect to really see myself. It allows me to recognize failure is not the end but a re-route to a new road in my journey. I can stop myself in the middle of catastrophizing I am prone to doing and say, Hey! Shit happens, okay? How can you learn from this? What can you do differently?

I was not taught to explore and be curious growing up. I was taught to be rigid and small-minded and always on alert. To rest was being lazy and worthless. To think outside the box or question anything was being disrespectful or ridiculous and isolating. To feel and ask for anything was being burdensome and shameful.

June is the only person who really showed up for me growing up, and even she had her limits when it came to emotions, affection, communication, and needs, and the environment we lived in together was an endlessly volatile battleground where to be vulnerable could damn near kill you or make you wish you were dead.

I am so grateful for that now small voice that whispers to me to speak up for myself and cheers me on when I do. I don’t know where it came from, but I am thankful it is there now. This year, I want to encourage that voice to grow louder and for me to trust and follow its directions.

This is not a year for more rigidity and self-defeat, self-doubt, self-loathing, and allowing myself to be trampled under the expectations and opinions of me, and needs of others.

What do I want?

Who do I want to be?

How can I think, behave, and live differently?

How can I fully live in this body I have as it is?

How can I finally see myself exactly as I am and stop sending myself the same hateful messages sent to me growing up and still all around me in our society?

How can I have a job I like that doesn’t become toxic?

How can the money I earn finally become mine?

How can I focus on each day alone as it happens and stop getting ahead of myself?

How can I do my part to have a healthy marriage with John?

By showing up for myself.

I know by proclaiming these words this year, God/the Universe will throw lots of opportunities for me to prove I am on my team, but I have known for a long time that conflict creates growth and fosters healing. I just pray for some grace and courage to be packed in with those opportunities.

What is/are your word(s) for 2019?

Beautiful You

Day 13 – Beautiful You – Define Beautiful

Beautiful you, flowers, roses
Credit: Unsplash//Jonathan Meyer

I have really not felt like writing over the past week. The weather has been dreary. I had to drain half of my savings account to make my credit card and car payments for December and I have about $700 left to my name. I am still applying for jobs, but with the holidays coming, my email and phone have been radio silent in terms of getting interviews or any real responses to my applications.

When the weather permitted last week, I took Missy for a couple of walks and went on one by myself. This time of the year feels so brutal both in the wet, bone-chilling cold and wind and emotionally. I don’t do well with early sunsets and shorter, cloudy days. I only love cold when it snows and as a reprieve from the intense summer heat. If it doesn’t snow, I require sunny and at least 65-70 degrees to feel good in the winter time.

But on these walks, I started talking…to God, I guess. I don’t know. Sometimes I really miss the faith I had growing up because it felt so comforting and I trusted I was being heard. Now, I just talked out loud (because thankfully, due to the cold, no one else was on the trail) and hoped Someone was listening. I obviously don’t trust God because when I ask for change, I say, “But hey, please don’t take that as let something bad happen to me so I lean closer to you or whatever because that just sucks and seems so narcissistic of you.”

I am angry at God. I can’t fully not believe in God, but I can’t believe in the God I was raised to believe. And with that, I have no idea who God really is or what to believe. But it feels good to be out in nature, wrapped in trees with the sky above, and to just talk. Speak out my hopes and wishes and unload my pain and fear. Maybe if anything, just talking whether anyone hears me or not is a gift in itself because it releases the pressure valve of anxiety in my brain just as writing always has.

When I can’t think of anything else to say or when I start worrying God is going to bring something devastating into my life that makes me wish I was where I am now, I just start saying out loud what I’m grateful for. My family. John. My closest friends. My healthy and capable body and brain. A warm apartment. Hot water. Food. The ability to buy what I need even if it’s with a credit card. Internet. Books. My tiny little Christmas tree. That John has a good job even if he’s working extra hours and we still don’t get a lot of time together to do stuff because he’s so tired when he’s off. Being able to have all of these feelings even though I feel so overwhelmed at always feeling things so acutely.

My mom asked me last week if I know what HSP is. I said yes, highly sensitive person. She said, “Did you know you are one of them?” I said yes, very much so. I feel fucking everything. I’m like Cyclops in the X-Men series where if he doesn’t clamp his eyes shut or wear the special googles, his eyes burn through everything. I feel like I need some sort of shield to protect me from all of the feelings that are burned through me everywhere I go and with everyone I’m around. Maybe I’m not Cyclops but a victim of his, haha.

But anyway, on to the writing prompt from Day 13 of Rosie Molinary’s “Beautiful You”:


Today: In your “Beautiful You” journal, write down what the word “beautiful” means to you. When are you compelled to use that word to describe a person? What has informed your definition? Knowing and owning our personal definitions of beauty is an essential step in celebrating one’s own brilliance.

What does the word “beautiful” mean to me?

When I think of the word “beautiful,” I think of words like “radiant,” “colorful,” “vibrant,” and “open.” A sunset that paints the entire sky in an array of oranges, pinks, yellows, and blues. Flowers. The constant ebb and flow of the waves crashing thunderously along the beach. Seeing the world around me from the top of a mountain or hill. Nature’s inhalations and exhalations in the form of clouds and storms. Christmas lights. The morning after a snowfall where the snowpack muffles all of the sounds around you and the world seems quiet and still for once.

When are you compelled to use that word to describe a person?

Those same synonyms can be attached to my definition of “beautiful” in people as well as “kindness,” “compassion,” “passion,” “perseverance,” and “strength.” I saw this picture on Reddit over the weekend of Hugh Jackman meeting an older lady who was a dear fan of his. There was so much joy in both of their faces as he kneeled down to her in her wheelchair and held her hand. He took a moment of his very busy life to show such kindness and that really touched my heart. It made me cry as much as all of those “People of New York” stories do. Honesty and openness in times of sorrow and great strife is beautiful. When we see the fruits of those struggles in a marriage, the birth of a child, recovery from an illness, and etc. The way John shows up for me, especially in darker times like now where my depression threatens to swallow me whole, is beautiful. Yes, there is physical beauty, but it means nothing without a story behind it. It is a book cover, a book jacket, without a book. The book itself, the story, is what is most beautiful.

What has informed your decision?

For me, beautiful is not what something looks like. It is an action. Like love. A choice. A story. A whole picture. Not just the sun itself setting along the horizon but the colors it projects as it burns into Earth’s atmosphere. Not just a giant supercell storm cloud but the way nature uses weather to keep our planet habitable. Not just a beautiful face but the story and emotions behind it.


Our stories don’t really feel all that beautiful when we are in them. They feel dark, looming, ugly, and we feel fucked up, lost, destroyed, and broken. We see the cracks, we don’t see the gold filling those cracks. It is when we look back that we see the hope, love, character, compassion, and strength that were defined in us during those times.

I can’t wait to see the beauty in this chapter of my life. I know it is coming and that’s the only thing that keeps me holding on.

You can read all of my other posts from Rosie Molinary’s Beautiful You here.

Beautiful You

Day 10 – Beautiful You – Consider Your Positive Memories

Positive Thinking

Last night, as I drifted off to sleep, I prayed, Please, God, surprise me this week.

Pause.

But let it be good surprises. I feel like I have to put that disclaimer there because I don’t trust that you won’t allow something awful to happen to teach me persistence or patience or growth or some shit.

Pause.

Yes, God, I obviously have trust issues with you but can you blame me? Being raised in a church that told me to welcome conflict, that you allow sorrow and pain in order to bring me closer to and make me dependent on you? Asking you for things makes me feel like I need to duck under some protective cover, like the other shoe is going to drop right on my head.

Pause.

Let’s work on this trust thing maybe? Show me you allow good things too, please. Like maybe I get a call back about a job? Or I don’t catch John’s awful cold even as he snores and coughs all over me (unintentionally?) in his sleep? Something?

Pause, as I think of all the other people who need something good to happen to them this week. Families who lost their beloved to murders by the police or our government at the Mexican border or to drugs or PTSD or suicide or a million other things.

Maybe let us all have some good surprises this week because let me tell you, God, things have been kinda shitty everywhere lately if you haven’t noticed (and too many times it feels like you don’t notice or don’t care, honestly). Okay? Can this happen, please?

I then fell asleep.

I did have one nice surprise today (Monday): I’ve been dreading going to Walmart to pick up my birth control because this year, it has cost me $400 every three months. United Healthcare also sent me a letter this month saying they will no longer cover this birth control I have taken for the past 7 years to keep my PCOS and endometriosis symptoms at bay and my periods regular.

I am going to see my OBGYN on December 13th for my annual visit so I will have to ask him to write me a new prescription.

But I finally decided to go to Walmart because I can’t go without my birth control between tomorrow and December 13th. I wanted to cry at adding an additional $400 of debt to my credit card but I had no other choice and knew I’d be reimbursed in the next month or so.

Well, somehow, it wound up only being $91 this time and it just dawned on me this is because we finally met our deductible for the year, like just now dawned on me, haha. I thought maybe they’d only given me a month’s worth but nope, all 3 months were there.

It still went on my credit card but it wasn’t as painful as it would’ve been so thanks, God.

Nice surprise #1.


On Day 10 of Rosie Molinary’s book Beautiful You, she writes about having her students look at their positive memories and what they appreciate about themselves. She does this to help them see how body image is played out in our culture and our own paradigms.

The writing prompt is as follows:

Today: Answer these questions in your “Beautiful You” journal. What do you appreciate most about yourself? What are you most confident about? What is the first positive memory you have of yourself? Was anyone there to witness that moment? If so, who was there and how did he, she, or they react?

What do I appreciate most about myself?

I would say my self-awareness and willingness to see myself as honestly and open-mindedly as possible and grow and change where I need to. This is so hard sometimes, maybe most of the time, because there is a lot I need to learn and embrace and grow from, but I always know I will be better for it.

When John and I do these painfully long walks and I’m tired, my legs ache, I’m starving, and it’s a long way back and I just want to sit down, I think, Amy, the only way you’re going to get home is to walk back and the sooner you start, the sooner you will be home.

I think that is a pretty good analogy of how I look at my life and myself. Growth and change are exhausting and the “other side” and whatever better, stronger version of me exists there feel so far away, but the only way I am going to get there is to face my bullshit head on, and the sooner I do this, the sooner I will evolve and become a better person for myself and everyone around me.


What am I most confident about?

While my faith in God and Christianity goes through a deconstruction and rebuilding phase, one thing remains in all I learned growing up:

There is a purpose for every season in our lives and some good will come out of all the bad.

I know this comes off as trite at times and I also acknowledge the privilege I can speak this from, but seriously, Mr. Rogers said it, “Look for the helpers.” The good is out there. Even in the darkest shit, something good happens even if we don’t always live to see it, even if it’s not in our lifetime.

I am a better, stronger, smarter, funnier, kinder, more empathetic and compassionate person for all the dysfunction and abuse I have lived through. Do I wish none of it happened to me? Yes. Would I go back and change anything? No. (Well, maybe one thing but overall, no.)

There is still good. I can be good, I can do good because I know how much it hurts when hurt people hurt people. I am a hurt person and I have hurt others from this hurt.

We are all individual stories in a epic collection of stories, and there is gold even in the darkness.


What is my first positive memory of myself? Was anyone there to witness that moment? If so, who was there and how did he/she/they react?

My first memory is being 3 years old and at the movie theater with my grandmother June who took me to see the Rainbow Brite movie. I was obsessed with Rainbow Brite. I don’t really remember a reaction from June then though.

I guess the first really positive memory of myself has to be in second grade. My teacher Mrs. Taylor adored me and I adored her. She loved to tell me and my parents how smart and sweet she thought I was and what a great speller I was.

She was so encouraging at a time I felt very ignored and neglected by my parents. It was just Adam and me then (Mama was pregnant with Ben). Adam was already the favored child and I was always getting yelled at for acting out because I was jealous of this and already felt like a burden and problem.

I remember my dad saying to me in front of Mrs. Taylor, “Why are you so good here and so bad at home?”

She saw what they didn’t and maybe couldn’t at the time, I guess.

Years later, she found me on Facebook and messaged me. She said I was always one of her favorite students and she thought of me often and always remembered me as her sweet, smart student. I told her she was my favorite teacher throughout school and it was her confidence in me at such a young age that helped me make it to where I am today.

You can read all of my other posts from Rosie Molinary’s Beautiful You here.