The "C" Word

Oh, Lord! Not that "c" word! No, this is about the word "confidence". You know that one thing I'm not? LOL 

I was having a conversation with someone the other day who couldn't believe that my self-esteem was actually as low as I claim it is. She told me that, because of the way I dressed and carried myself, she truly believed my confidence was very healthy. I laughed...HARD!

From the earliest I can remember, I've struggled with confidence. I have never thought of myself as beautiful or strong or, well, confident. For this person to tell me that she didn't believe I had an issue with my size, my shape, or my style stuns me. The funny thing is? She's not the first one to say it. The man with the charming smile told me that, too. "I watch you walk across campus with your head up, your shoulders back, and I see a woman with so much confidence." (I usually had my earbuds in and didn't pay much attention to anyone unless they were in my path.)

I look at myself in the mirror and I don't see a woman who has confidence. I see someone who is looking tired and showing more of her age everyday. I am not happy with my looks which is why I change them up. I add color to my hair to hide the grays. I add false eyelashes to make my eyes look bigger. I wear make-up to cover the blemishes. I dress younger than I am because I hate the clothes that are marketed toward women my age. I'm still a t-shirt and jeans with sneakers kind of girl. 

I feel like I've been faking 'til I make it. Maybe I've managed to fool myself into actually having confidence. Who knows? If others perceive the illusion of confidence in the way I speak, act, or dress, then maybe, just maybe, I have gained some over the years.

I had a blog that I had done for a college project a while ago about why I'm beautiful. I asked women of every age to tell me why they were beautiful. I had some amazing answers from some incredible women. It was empowering and enlightening. 

So, tell me...what makes you beautiful? Apparently, my answer needs to be...my confidence *G*

Highlight Reels

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. My insecurities and black moods have been bad. I've spent time meditating and getting away from technology. I've even turned off my phone.

I know what you're thinking...if you're depressed, is shutting out the entire world the answer? For me, it is. See, I, like a lot of people, compare my life to everyone else's. This friend has an amazing family life. This friend is having a great time with friends and family. Another friend got a wonderful job promotion. Yet another one bought a beautiful new home. Another is on a vacation with the love of their life. I'm looking at everyone's highlight reels.

Life is made up of all kinds of moments, but we tend to only share the great ones with our online friends. They don't see our struggles, our loneliness, our arguments, or our sacrifices. We don't get to see everyone's blooper reel or behind the scenes moments. 

I'm guilty of the same things. I made the Dean's List, but what you don't know is how hard I've struggled to get there. You don't know that this is the first semester that I haven't been on academic probation since transferring to this school. I got a promotion at work, but you don't see how much I despise going to this job every day or the fact that I often cry when I come home from this job. I post a bunch of things about keeping your faith strong, yet my faith falters constantly. I am not nearly as strong as I pretend to be. 

As proud of myself as I am, I compare my life to everyone else's. I'm not proud that I do that, but I do. No one has walked the same path that I have nor have I walked theirs. They don't know the struggles I've faced nor do they know mine.

I guess my words of advice are these: When I say "Be humble and kind," I don't mean you should be that to only others. Be humble and kind to yourself as well. Not everyone's life is made up of perfect moments. Don't compare your life to theirs. Your journey is your journey. Their journey is theirs. No two lives are the same. No two struggles are the same. Be proud of your life and what has led you to the place you're in. Stand proud! Stand strong! The bad times don't last forever, but neither to the good ones. Life is about learning moments. So, what will you learn from yours?

Returning to the Yellow Brick Road

I've been so busy the last few months. Working as much as possible, planning for my inevitable return to college, re-examining my life. I'd lost sight of a few things.

See, when my former roommate moved out, I kept everything in boxes, scared of making this place a home. I'd been residing here, but not living. I've been searching for a new place where Diesel and I can start over. However, I hadn't truly been "in" this space in a long time. I hadn't made it mine again. Instead, I was trying to find greener pastures. Sometimes finding greener pastures starts by watering and tending to your own.

Not my actual boxes!!

My mom is coming for a visit. Ashamed of how bare my house looked, I unpacked a few boxes. Then, a few more. I spruced up this space in which I reside. I opened curtains and let the sunshine in. I stepped out of my comfort zone and reclaimed this space as mine. I am finished with mourning that which was never meant to be. I've let go of so much baggage (and I don't mean physical shit).

By doing all of these things, I've found myself back on the yellow brick road. With the start of college around the corner, I'm feeling optimistic. This is the first time back on that campus since I started listening to my own heart. It is a whole new chapter! I've felt like I was going around and around in circles on this journey, looking for a lesson or sign. I've been wandering around lost and confused.

These are a bit more to my liking!!

Home isn't a place! It's the people who reside inside the four walls. My house is a home because I make it so. All who enter here should feel welcome and loved. But it all has to start with me! If I don't walk through the door to my own house and feel welcomed and loved, why should anyone else? And I can't find a new place to call home until I learned to define what home truly is! I've written so many posts about my childhood home and how the people who I called family made my home...well, home. The problem is that I forgot I was part of that equation, too. I've been trying so hard to recreate that feeling and I've lost sight of the fact that I helped make that house a home, too.

I've been told so long that my gut is wrong. Guess what? It isn't! I listened to others for far too long and let doubt cloud my reasoning!

Look! Just over the hill! Do you see it? That green glow from below? It's the Emerald City! I'm finally back on the right path!

My journey is far from over. I'm still my own worst enemy. I'm bound to take a bad turn every now and again. The Wicked Witch is still certain to send her flying monkeys after me. Glinda is still being the evasive bitch she has always been. I've still got the Tin Man, Toto, the Cowardly Lion, and Scarecrow beside me as my companions. Unfortunately, they have their own lessons to learn as we journey on and won't always be beside me. However, together? Together, we can conquer anything!

A Woman of a Certain Age...

This posting was going to be funny and silly, but I've had something on my mind lately. It has to do with age and I'm tired of holding back.

I'm celebrating a birthday this week and it's a milestone. I've fussed over it. I've cried over it, but no matter what, it is going to happen. Honestly, I'd rather have that than the other option! However, someone said something to me the other day and it pissed me off. They hurt my feelings! They said, "Remember how old you are. You aren't 20 anymore!"

You know what? I know that! I look in the mirror every single day and I know I'm not 20! I feel the aches and pains in my joints. I know I'm not 20! I don't need your reminder that I'm older than I want to be!

I was talking to my darling sister the other day and actually said the words, "I thought I'd have more time!" When I was younger, I wasted time. I gave time to people who didn't deserve it. I allowed people to take from me without giving back. I let people take my spirit, steal my thunder, and break me until I was less than I wanted or deserved to be! I made mistakes that cost me more than I should've allowed! And, trust me, I'm paying the price now.

I'm not a woman who regrets the decisions she's made. There's no point because I can't change the past. Every decision has led me to the spot I am now. I was beat down and degraded. I lost my voice. I still have a few issues to work on, but I'm trying. And I love the woman I've found under years of breakage and hurt. People buried my fire until it was almost out. Unfortunately for them, the ember still smoldered. I've been digging through the wreckage of my soul for a while and the fire is back to roaring.

I know I'm not 20! I wouldn't want to be. Being 20 would put me back in a place I wouldn't want to be with people I don't like all that much. I don't have to "act my age" or be reminded that I'm not a teenager. I color my hair whatever fucking color I feel like. I wear whatever fucking clothes I want. I wear as much or as little make-up as I want. Most days, I'm mistaken for 28-35. I'm okay with that! Hell, I'm ecstatic over that! When someone asks me how old I am, I love watching their mouths fall open because they think I'm so much younger. And that's on a college campus! After a lifetime of being the geek who has her nose in a book, I've had some students actually tell me I'm the "coolest chick" they know. I've been told I inspire them.

So here's a piece of advice: The next time you get the urge to remind a woman of their age or say "Well, a woman of a certain age would...", shut your damn mouth and blow your opinion out your ass! Why? Because women of ANY age can do whatever the hell they want and they don't need  your permission to do so!

Fighting the Fear

   

                                                       


I hate to admit it, but I am scared. I am fearful of so many things and I allow them to hold me back. Being insecure is part of my comfort zone. Being insecure is all I've ever known. I meet people with confidence and think, "Wow! How awesome are they?" But to be confident, I'd have to believe I am good at something, that I have something to offer the world, that I matter. And I'm aware that for my life to begin means that I have to step outside of my comfort zone.

I'm scared of failure which I allow to keep me from writing. If I don't write, then I can't fail, right? WRONG!! I'm failing myself by not trying. I'm aware of all of this. However, with my depression weighing on me like a Mack truck, I just wanna throw in the towel. Instead, I write my blog posts. I put all of my feelings out into the universe and release them. I am hoping that my scattered and random thoughts will make sense to the people who need to know they're not alone.

I get up every day and go through the motions of my life. Walk and feed the dog, shower, eat, get dressed, go to work, go home, walk and feed dog, eat, crawl into bed, talk to my sister, and pray sleep comes easily. Some days, I go to bed laughing. Others, I cry until I'm exhausted. And the rest? Well,I allow my brain to run wild and tell me all sorts of horrible things. 

I chuckle as I write this because I have so many people fooled. If you met me on the street, you wouldn't believe that I'm the woman I am. You'd see my smile and think "She's so confident." We'd speak and you'd say to yourself, "She's so friendly." You may overhear a conversation with someone I know and think "She sounds so funny and intelligent." But it is the fear that you are missing.

You're not seeing the fact that it took me two hours to work up the courage to leave the house. You don't notice the white knuckles as I cling to my keys. You've missed the routine of parking in front of the store so I don't have to interact with many people. You don't see the fear behind the smile and the thought process of "Please don't let anyone talk to me!" And gods forbid if someone should reach out to touch me! 

I was in a math class in college two semesters ago. I chose to sit in the back of the class, in the far corner. My nose was in my book. My earbuds securely in my ears until class started. I was getting in my zone. Then, HE walked in. You know, the one guy who has a smile on his face constantly and has such a charismatic personality that you can't help but smile back? Yeah, I got that one. He'd walk into class everyday and he'd want to chat. Being the only other person in class, we'd visit. Then, he did the one thing no one does...he put his hand on my knee and squeezed. Inside, I was losing my shit. Outside, he saw nothing wrong. This continued until I grew used to his touch, then he took my hand. He'd hold it for a brief moment. He always had his hands near mine, fiddling with my binder, twirling my pencil, just being the outgoing man he is. One day, he walk into class, borrowed my notes, returned them and he hugged me! And all the negative thoughts, the panic attack, the "oh gods, he's touching me" thoughts went silent. He just held on. Tightly. I hugged him back and attempted to let go. He did the one thing I never dreamed would happen to me...he held on when I tried to let go. I worked so hard to keep my shit together. I was close to a panic attack, but I didn't have one...until later. I went home from class that day and cried. A panic attack set in when I realized what had happened...I let someone get close enough to feel the rolls of fat on my body, to smell the essential oils I wear as perfume, to smell my shampoo, to notice my breasts aren't perky and perfect. I was petrified that this man would touch me again (and he did...a lot!!!!). He was constantly touching. This was hard for me because I am a person who CRAVES touch. That physical brush of skin against skin, body across body...I yearn for it, but to have a complete stranger (and a beautiful one at that) reach for me first was both amazing and terrifying. 

I am aware that I have lost weight over the last two years. I buy clothes that fit me now and look nice. I don't buy muumuus and large patterned items. I don't dress in all black anymore. Stretch pants and yoga pants are for home use only. I wear jeans and skirts, bright colors, things that reveal and show off my assets. I'm very proud of myself...however, I am still overweight. 

I fear standing out. I don't want people to notice me, but they do anyway. I scurry along the sides of a room like those furry spawns of Satan I hate so much (mice). When someone speaks to me, I often find myself looking around as if I'm thinking "Are you talking to me? Why are you talking to me? Why do you think I should speak? "

I'm scared to allow my voice to be heard. I don't want people to look at me and think "How stupid!" I know I have a brain and common sense. I don't consider myself intelligent though the man from math class thinks I'm smart! 

I'm on a college campus of about 4,000 students on a somewhat daily basis and I rarely speak to anyone. I sit in class with my mouth tightly shut (unless I'm called on) and take notes. Every semester, I will have 1 or 2 people I will speak to on a regular basis, but once the semester is over, I don't talk to them again. In this electronic age, I am more content to keep my earbuds in and my nose in a book for fear of people thinking that I'm too old, too fat, too stupid, too something, to be there.

However, I'm trying. Mr. Charismatic Math Man has me talking to so many different people that I have no choice but to interact. In fact, because of him, I may have made a friend (or two) who I actually text from time to time. I owe this man a debt of gratitude and maybe a plate of cookies.

Learning to Live

Most of you who have been with me for a while know that I'm coming up on a pretty big anniversary. It's been a year since I lost one of the most important people in my life...my dad. That one event threw my world off its axis and I've spent the better part of a year trying to get it back on track.

So here I sit, almost an entire year older and I hope a little wiser. I've been through a lot in the last year, but what I have discovered is that I need to learn how to live. For the most part, I've been simply going through the motions, but I haven't really been living life.
I had a professor this year who told me I need to loosen up, let my hair down, and just have some fun. I sat across from this man who I consider a brilliant man and was dumbfounded. 

He told me I wasn't having fun with my writing. I thought I was having a ball with my writing. I mean, writing is a serious business, right? The good doctor looked at me with a smile on his face and said, "Writing is a very serious business, but if you aren't having any fun, then why the hell are you doing it?" This from the Absent-minded professor? (The brilliant man could never remember where we were when it came to writing assignments.) I walked away from this meeting in a different frame of mind...one that really had me thinking.

I put aside what I was working on and put all of my efforts into something new and different. I focused on my blog for school (http://iambeautifulat.blogspot.com) and my algebra homework. I picked up a book I've been wanting to read and delved beneath the pages. I found myself smiling more and laughing with friends. I simply stopped trying to live and actually lived.

School came to an end. I finished my exams and I'm not worried about my grades. Why? Because once I stopped worrying about things, it all began to work. I'm simply letting go.

Yesterday, I got up, popped Nickelback on my MP3 player, tied on my tennis shoes, and went for a walk. I have been having some issues lately and I needed to work them out in my head. A lot of my issues deal with the negative voices in my head. Somebody told me it's a record that I need to stop listening to. So, on my walk, I took the record and smashed the hell out of it. There is no way that record can be put back together.

Somewhere along the way this year, I lost sight of me. I stopped believing in myself and thus, lost my passion. I deserve passion! I owe it to myself and I will damn well have it!

So this is me...I'm letting my hair down, giving a huge rebel yell, and I'm barefooting it for awhile. I'm almost 41. I'm not dead. I'm alive and kicking. This is my year of learning to live!

A Few Things I'm Learning As I Go

So, I'm a college student. Most of you are aware of that. What you don't know is that I started this journey with one goal in mind: get a degree. That was all I wanted. I wasn't going to school to make friends. I wasn't going to engage if I didn't have to. I wanted to earn a degree and walk back into the world smarter. That's it. I'd mind my own business and live my life and everyone else could just leave me alone.
Last semester, I got kicked off that track of thinking. I met a young man who refused to allow me to live in my shell. He asked me questions and stopped to chat with me on campus. He engaged me and made it his mission to make sure I engaged other people. He changed my life though he will never understand that.
I walked onto campus as one of the older students. I figured the kids are going to look at me as the "old woman" on campus. I never expected for them to like me. I didn't care whether they did or not, but they did. I had a couple of people last year tell me, "You know, you're pretty cool, right?" Me? The bookworm? Seriously? You all need to read up on what being cool is! *G*

This semester a different woman walked onto campus. I walked in a little more confident and a whole lot friendlier. The other day, I laughed all the way home. Want to know why? I had been stopped by 4 different people to chat in the hallways. ME! Then, I walked across our tiny campus with another student, chatting about our previous class. When I realized what had happened, it made me laugh out loud. The woman who walked from class to class with her head down, not being engaged with anyone, has friends on campus and not one of them is my own age.
Here are a few things I'm learning:
1) Age is simply a number
2) You are truly only as old as you feel
3) This new generation has a lot to learn, but they also have a lot to offer.
4) Many of these young people refuse to be silent. They stand up for their convictions (and that is AWESOME!)
5) Youth is pretty blind to age.
6) I actually have something to say that they want to hear.
So, I guess an old dog can learn some new tricks, if only they open themselves up to the opportunity. And it all started with the least likely person.

My quote for this week: "Shoot for the moon! Even if you miss, you'll land amongst the stars."