Why I’m not a #survivor

Ok, I am. I HAVE survived. A lot. Which is my point.

I think I have much to say on this topic, but perhaps social media and the need to get to the point has played into my lazy “how quickly can I get this done” mentality! So, hopefully for you – I will be short, concise and easily understood.

Saying “I am” is a deep statement.  “I am” is about the depths of my soul.  My innateness, my sheer existence and the things that make me specially me. If you are a quick thinker you may already have gone there…. “But don’t your experiences make you who you are?” I’ve heard and thought that “Our experiences shape us” That’s what I want to talk about. **disclaimer:  I’m not done with me, so this particular piece will never really be done. Feel free to comment your thoughts after reading!

Religion, spiritual gurus and philosophers have been tackling the idea of “self” for as long as we’ve been thinking… And even though I think I am a deep thinker, in reality, I prefer to wade.  I like the safety of the shore and the “idea of” the ocean.  But if I go too deep I can feel the strong undertow and have to retreat back to a depth I can feel comfortable in.  All that to say: I don’t think this is gonna be too deep.  😉

Experiences vs Self

I think of my SELF as separate from what happens TO my self.  So if you can hang with me there that would be cool. If I am my self, what happens to that self is a separate thing.  So saying “I am a survivor” as in ‘a person who survives’ is still ok with me – except for the whole death thing. Should my headstone say “She thought she was a survivor. PWND!”  Anyway…What’s not ok?  Marketing (oops, I mean ‘awareness campaigns’).  Glorifying of shitty situations.  Making ‘war heroes’ out of people who have accomplished not dying.  (That is everyone’s goal.  Everyone fails.  Everyone.)

Let’s break it down.  I survived sexual abuse.  I survived domestic abuse. I survived losing a child. I #survived breast cancer.  But what I don’t understand is that that last one earns me the hashtag rights.  The “survivor” in quotes rights.  Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t feel bitterness.  I think we are victims of feeling good about ourselves based on marketing campaigns and a herd-like mentality.  Again, don’t misunderstand.  I think we SHOULD feel good about ourselves.  Our innateness. Our being.  I think it’s a pretty big deal to exist.  The alternative is huge…. right.  I feel GOOD that I exist.  I like the me inside of me.  I like the me I am being.  I find flaws, things I don’t think belong to that me – but mostly, I like me.  I don’t like many of the things that have happened to me.

And so my first question is; Why define myself by what has happened TO me? (side note:  semi-colon??? I mean it’s two complete thoughts, but maybe different punctuation is required here.  Let me know in the comments, I am blogging and don’t have time/inclination to research proper punctuation.) 

“Why define myself by what has happened to me?”  Why identify with, any more than necessary, the role of a victim, for example?  Sure, stuff I have experienced is shitty.  Actually, really traumatic. Some people DON’T survive  – they die as a result of their sufferings – accidentally-ish, we call that manslaughter sometimes, or purposefully- or they are so stuck they kill themselves to escape. There are levels of survivorship too, right?  Some people manage to live through the horrible things that happen to them only to be stained, sometimes for their entire lives…. choosing situations that perpetuate feelings of or actual continued victimization.  They can’t talk about what’s next for them because their minds are stuck in what happened to them.  They can’t feel joy in shitty moments because they are still reeling from past shitty moments.  No.  This isn’t an indictment.  I don’t know why some people are able to move on and others aren’t.  It weighs pretty heavy on my heart.  I was stuck for a VERY long time. I was a #survivor, an #overcomer.  For me, THAT was the problem.

Wearing my experiences like a badge. But that badge is a label.  It’s an I AM.  It defines, or represents at least, the depths of me. Like the bigger, badder shit I went through… the better person I was.  Do you realize how messed up that is?   I am not what has happened to me, it actually has little to DO with my me-ness. This logic in turn takes AWAY from the me-ness of others.  What if you never suffered horribleness?  Does that make it any less amazing that you exist? Is your uniqueness any less unique or beautiful? Where’s YOUR hashtag? How will we #recognize you and easily label you?  How will people know where to give their money so they feel like they’ve “done something”. No. I didn’t just say giving money is a way to feel like you are doing something without actually doing something (but sometimes it is).  I also didn’t say that donating to research, cures, and programs that help people is bad.  Here’s the other thing about that ‘badge of honor’ #survivor… it feels like a competition and I WON!  I won the prize.  Those who died didn’t.  They didn’t “WIN!” The subtle and sometimes overt implication is that they were ‘weaker’ or somehow ‘less than’ or – the opposite, they are worshipped. They are ‘true heroes’.  I call bullshit.  Let’s not just think in 1’s and 0’s… blacks and whites.  And don’t think that just because I am writing this my thoughts are finished, proven and refined.  I, like you, am still figuring out what I think about ALLLLLL this. (life, suffering, joy, existence) I also still don’t have a favorite color.  I know. ugh.

So when I think about me, I think about what drives me.  I sense what drives me by recognizing the types of things I want to accomplish.  I want people to live in joy.  I want to help people around me live meaningful lives.  I want people to be self-actuated. I want people to figure out the good stuff in ways that give meaning to them- and hopefully the rest of us.  I want to point to the good stuff, generate my own good stuff and kind of roll around in it. Then I want to hop to my feet and run to the next good stuff.  Being present during the bad stuff – mine and yours is part of that.  Living through the bad stuff isn’t who I am, it’s a consequence of being alive.  It can be part of my rolling in the good stuff.  Sitting with you, listening to you when you are sad. That is pretty precious.  To experience the honor of being present as the depths of your being is revealed is a huge thing. It reminds me of my smallness in this world and my greatness in that I, too, exist. It can be laying on a table in a big room while the amazing RADIATING MACHINE pushes it’s rays through my skin to kill the nasty cancer that happened to me.   Did I “Kick cancer’s ass”?  Well, I think the doctors and “The Radiators” kicked cancer’s ass.  I didn’t do much but show up. Did I impact the people around me anyway?  Yup. That’s ME.

Am I a #survivor, though? Yes, I lived through it. I am NOT saying you were wrong to be excited for me. I am NOT saying you were wrong to say “Yay, you are now a “survivor”!” because that was you being happy I didn’t die from breast cancer.  (Shit! I’m glad, too!) I am glad that you are using the best words you have to say those things.  Thank you.  But to answer my real question; no, I am no more a “survivor” than anyone else in this world.  You may think I am because my shitty bad stuff looks big and scary to you.  But, guess, what… there is worse. There is stuff I wonder often about how people come out of with their selves in tact.  But when I look you in the eye, I don’t see someone less than, or more than.  I look for a friend, a fellow exister. (That just made me smile SO BIG!) Just THINK what life would look like if we could shake ourselves free from our experiences.  Stop the subtle and overt comparing.  Step away from the pink ribbons and the black flags and the iconery and hashtags and the stuff that feed the money mill for just a bit….

Isnt’ it crazy that a KNOWN fundraiser (I LOVE fundraising!) is talking like this?  A cynical “money mill” statement thrown into the mix?!  Let me clarify a bit…I want my/your money and effort to go the actual things that are important to me or you.  I want you to KNOW that TOO many people are trafficked for sex and slavery (those words don’t need to be separated, do they?). I want you to know that there are ways to detect breast cancer. I want you to help pay for cures and research and people’s overwhelming medical bills during crazy difficult (physically, mentally, emotionally) times.  I don’t do pink ribbons or #hashtags too often because I think they make us just a little complacent.  They DON’T remind us that we are responsible for what we do with the tools we have (our brains, our money) and to have great marketing doesn’t mean you deserve our dollars. It also doesn’t mean you don’t.

It means that WE are sometimes too lazy about intentionality, about thinking and about loving each individual just because they exist.  It’s easy to let marketing campaigns make us feel good and important more than actually BEING GOOD and recognizing our innate importance.

 

Recap:

  • #protip Great marketing can encourage laziness and a ‘sense of doing good’ when there are better good things to do.  There are lists that show how much $$ leaders of nonprofits makes and percentages of dollars that go to admin vs the actual cause.  Admin is important as is good leadership. Just don’t assume it’s good because there is a ‘pink ribbon’ (or other easily recognizable icon) attached to it.
  • Labelling people is constrictive.  What if the cancer comes back?  Do we remove the hashtag?  Oh, sorry… #notasurvivorreally. Or do you get extra hashtags for each “surviving”?  What are the RULES!?!?!? #beyourownlabel
  • We need to free ourselves from the judgement of ‘not enough’ and focus our energy on BEING in the best sense. Victimization is evil, I will not define myself by the moments someone or something else has threatened my being. I am above or maybe even simply OTHER than that.
  • We all die.  Surviving is what we do everyday… until we don’t.  Living in recognition of the level playing field is a beautiful.  There are people smarter, taller, less smart, shorter, more brilliant, stronger, weaker… then I am.  But I think we are all part of the same.  (No. Don’t stay with your abusive spouse… that’s not beautiful.  Let them find their innate worth…and yours – and then maybe we can talk).
  • I’ve spent my life trying to be good and right and follow all the rules and find all the right rules and be the right things to all the people and suffer well and live strong and I’ve been mistaken.  The best is to be.  To BE me. To not mind the rules… I mean if you don’t want me to step on your grass, I will totally try not to.  Not because I agree that your grass is more important that my feet, but because YOU are. Life takes balance. Balancing who you are with who others are.  Sometimes there isn’t healthy balance in those spaces.  Move on.

    Or should I say #moveon 😉

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4thTrimesterBodies …or something like that

stop cencsoring motherhood

My morning “Social Media Check-in” can be pretty intense.  It’s my livelihood.  I manage several social media accounts for clients and I like to skim what’s going on in my online community, my clients’ communities and my local community.  I am also a photographer and just LOVE the human body.  Duh.  It’s just weird not to!  😉

This photo caught my attention.  4th Trimester Bodies is doing a project -that I haven’t yet looked into,  so I don’t know fully what they are about or the impetus for their project.  Something else caught my attention as well.

Join us in calling social media accountable…

What IS that?  Social media has neither a will nor a conscience.  It cannot be held accountable.  Why not just say, “Hey, stupid people, stop being stupid online!” *NOTE* I try not to self edit when blogging.  You are welcome *END NOTE*

So I started to comment to my friend Kyra, but then realized I had completely highjacked her post with my own commentary.  So here it is:

Thank you Kyra for posting this, I am constantly saddened by our double standard about nudity/partial nudity/ aka the human body.  It’s completely ok to encourage our daughters to parade around in a bikini to be judged..while talking about volunteering at church, to watch violent crimes in sexual nature against women as entertainment, to admire the body builder or the weight loss success (that has some woman in knots due to unhealthy practices she uses to keep her weight in check).  But it’s not ok to just be casually nude – or near nude, or to have cleavage…seriously.  (or breast feed in public – everyone.  STOP EATING IN PUBLIC, for Heaven’s Sake!)

I am not sure it’s “social media”  we are calling accountable, but rather the people who voice their opinions/beliefs using social media.  People who buy stuff.  I know when I am posting pictures about “Come workout with me” they aren’t pictures of fat people or people with little pooches of tummies.  Mostly, sexy sweaty girls with defined muscles are motivating.  WE have made that.  WE pay money to companies that propagate that imagery. WE cry at night (or at breakfast… or lunch… or in the dressing room at Kohls) because our bodies STILL aren’t looking like that sexy sweaty girl on Beth’s Facebook page.  UGH.

Part of the bigger problem, though and what I really want to address, is personal integrity.

One small example to help understand what I mean: If it’s true that 1/2 christian men claim to be addicted to porn, then we as ‘a body’ are personally and morally conflicted because we do not LIVE what we actually believe.  OR we do what we believe and lie with our lips.  Personal integrity is now void.  If we are not in congruence with our belief systems (whatever they are) we hide, lie, cheat and steal…murder and rape, in subtle and not so subtle ways and point the finger elsewhere so we don’t get caught.  And we are good at it because we have been PRACTICING it for a while… doing things we believe in our hearts are not good to do.

 I think this is one of the reasons Jesus was so chill with ‘non-believers’ and so harsh on the ‘believers’ (Pharisees).  If you have PERSONAL integrity you are closer to the heart of Christ’s teachings than if you don’t, but claim you are Christian.  

Now this issue of accepting mothers for who they are, not putting ridiculous merely esthetic or pseudo moral expectations on them is not a “Christian” issue only.  That’s just a big hunk of time / people Kyra and I hang with.  Because my goal is to as closely as possible model my life after Jesus it’s always relevant to me.

Making sex tabboo, sexualizing anything involving skin without cover and financially supporting companies that encourage us to have unrealistic, over sexualized goals for our body shapes are all bad.  Don’t get me wrong… I think sex is awesome!  I just work everyday to live what I believe.  Sometimes I fail, well, a lot. But my goal is to not hide. So my daughters and granddaughters will not have to, and so their husbands can have amazing wives and mothers to their children.

https://www.facebook.com/4thTrimesterBodiesThere are hashtags like #4thtrimesterbodiesproject you can use if you want to talk about this kind of stuff, too.

 

I kinda want to yell.. “GO!  Be naked!”  But it’s chilly out, and I don’t actually want to walk around naked, cause my tummy sags and other body issues that we can discuss at another time.

 

BK over and out.

Gifted

Oh oh oh!  Look at you!  Here again for another ONE WORD post!  You might wonder how “gifted” fits in here.  But remember these posts are about things I am ashamed of, haven’t figured out or that maybe scare me a little.  Gifted fits those categories.  Read on… if you dare.

Shameless plug that started out as a simple profile pictureI’m a photographer.  I have been taking pictures since forever, with varying equipment, skill and understanding. I’ve always kinda liked my work, but never really took myself ‘seriously’.  Just took pictures cause I liked it… I wanted to share with other people how I see things;  to celebrate the beauty in what I saw.

As a photographer, I recognize giftedness in others. You don’t have to be a photographer for that, though.  You just look at a picture and it ‘speaks’ to you – or it touches you someplace deep in your soul and you think, “Wow. What a great photo!”  Right?

Well, here’s the thing I am kinda ashamed of or embarrassed about.  I look at my work (often) and think that. (Wow. What a great photo!) The words change of course, substitute “photo’ for “moment”, “lighting”, “composition”, but the idea is the same.  I’m proud of my work.

So, why ashamed?  Because you aren’t supposed to be proud.  What if I just THINK it’s great, but it isn’t REALLY?  Now, if I were hearing you say that, I would laugh (in a friendly sort of way) and say, the only person who needs to like it is YOU!  But, that isn’t true, no matter how badly I want it to be.  We are humans, I believe we are created for community, togetherness, to need and fulfill need where others are concerned.  So I do need you to like my work.  Not ALL of you.  Just enough of you.

I suppose ‘real’ artists create for the sake of artistic creation itself, like they can’t HELP but create stuff.  I can go for long periods without taking a picture – I don’t like it, but I can.  I create for artistic expression.  I certainly don’t need to express me to me!  right?  I want you to find value in what I do.  There’s the rub. I am embarrassed (ashamed a bit, I suppose) that I need you to like my work.  Sometimes it’s intense, other times barely noticeable. But I think that strong people don’t need that.  I am probably wrong in most instances. But it’s one of the lies I have picked up somewhere along the line – that I am the only one who cares (a lot) what others think of my work. And it makes me less of a (mature, wise, strong…) person.

The good thing about that is, with 6 billion+ people in the world the odds of NO ONE liking my work are pretty slim. Example: My husband can listen to a local band and think they are the best ever.  I listen and think, “Why are they letting that person sing lead? They are tone deaf.”

The other thing about liking my own work…thinking I have a gift where photography is concerned is that it feels prideful in one sense (see above) and burdensome in another.  If someone gives me a gift that is awesome and to be used to help fill the needs of others, I better take GOOD care of it.  I better not suck, or be lazy with it, or throw it in a corner and do nothing with it. Right? I better add skill and intentionality with it.  I better treat it with respect. I better not mess it up. (laughing) But I think that.

I don’t know about you.  You may not struggle with these thoughts at all. Your self esteem is beautifully in tact. Your sense of self worth is undented. My guess is, though that most people reading this think like this – whether or not you have been able to put it into words.

I don’t want to give the impression that everything comes easy.  That everything is second nature to me.  That I just boldly charge forward in whatever endeavor I start. Something inside of me compels me to start, to champion, to fight for truth and beauty for me …and for you, if you need it.

Here are the latest photos I thought, “wow.” about:  Thank you, Emily for being beautiful and letting me show it through my camera lens.

Beth Kolar Photography, Maternity 2  Beth Kolar Photography, Maternity

Alone

Number 3 in my “One Word” posts.  Again, you are not so lucky as to show up here to read just one word.  That’s just the title. So if Two or more words are too much reading for you… move along.  The rest of you get to hear my thoughts on being alone in a world full of people… loneliness.

Sometimes I wonder if loneliness is simply a state of mind, which implies I have the power to change it – you know, how I think.  It’s a tempting thought… “If I would simply change my thinking, my loneliness would go away.”

But here is the rub.  One of my biggest fears is believing things that are not true.  Tricking myself into thinking things are “ok” when they are indeed NOT “ok”.  Perhaps I a  the free 70’s and the “magic of thinking big” 80’s and 90’s. There were a lot of self-help books about how you think… and if you can think it you can achieve it.  I don’t get it.  Or perhaps I don’t have that kind of drive. idk. Either way, I don’t want to pretend every thing is fine.  I want to be aware, ready, open.  Living in reality. Even if reality sucks.

So.  Being alone. My life has changed a lot this year.  I don’t have the same old people around me to fill the dark spaces, to distract, to keep me company and to be ever-present reminders that I am not REALLY alone.  I used to work in an office with 10 people I still consider my friends. I used to visit my Mom and Dad – now I visit my Mom.  I used to play with my granddaughters, hear my son sing and watch my daughter-in-law laugh (I love her laugh). I used to talk to my friend Perry about important things (including how I fail and try again).  Sometimes I still get to do some of these things. Mostly not.

It’s a kind of stripping away that’s happening.  I think it will turn out for the best.  But for now it feels lonely. When I think about these things, I am alone.  Inside my heart, inside my head. No one else fits in there, really. But more importantly, there is no one to distract me – from the inside of me.

These posts are about things I am maybe ashamed of, or haven’t gotten my head or heart around – so here it is.  I am ashamed that the love of the people around me doesn’t seem to be enough to distract me from the reality of feeling alone – loss.  That I can’t just replace loss with the love of the people around me. That I can’t just be fine and keep moving forward. Unburdening the people that love me.

If the table was turned, tho… I would want to be burdened with your sorrow, loneliness and grief. Until you were restored to the awesomeness of life again. I wouldn’t want you to feel the need to hide, or lie – in your head, in your heart, or with your mouth. And THAT is why I am sharing.

I just saw an old 1968 photo  of 2 Olympic medalists standing with fists raised* (getting them expelled from the games) saying with no words that some things in life suck and we want to change them together – no matter the current norm.  It made me cry because too seldom do people stand with fists raised saying, “No more hiding. No more faking.  No more believing things that simply are not true.” We are too afraid. Much too afraid for such a short existence.

I am not sure it’s a psychological principle or not but I think that I have this ability to live in the suckiness of THIS moment because I believe in the awesomeness of all the moments combined.  It gives me space inside my heart.  I know the bad can never push out the good.  It can never be permanent.  There are too many good things that tip the scale, that re-fill the dark spaces as the darkness gets pushed out.

 

*disclaimer: no… I am not saying that my personal inner angst is ANYTHING like the magnitude of  the civil rights issues these men were protesting.  I am saying that our Americanized “be tough, don’t show your pain, fake it till you make it” attitude tends to oppress emotionally when applied as a blanket solution to life’s real pain.

Pain

(You have stumbled upon #2 of my ONE WORD posts.  And you are astute enough to notice that this post is more than ONE WORD. The ONE WORD is the title.  A word that maybe I am embarrassed about or afraid to admit or haven’t figured out how to handle.)

Body Combat - Ultimate Health and FitnessBeing a ‘bad-ass’ Body Combat (Les Mills group fitness MMA-based cardio class) instructor means that pain is my companion. Any fitness instructor I know will tell me that if they are not hurting, they know they haven’t been working. I’m not talking about broken bones, or messed up joints or the kind of pain that means you should be home icing (or applying heat) with water, protein and rest!

I’m talking about the kind of pain that happens when you push your muscles just past their current limit, causing muscle breakdown that leads to building mass / strength. That’s good pain, pain that represents growth.

You can read lots of articles about that kind of pain online.  Try fitness sites.  This isn’t about that kind of pain.

I used to have fibromyalgia. (I linked to Mayo Clinic since they diagnosed me) It’s a kind of dull ache pretty much everywhere, that increases exponentially when pressure is applied.  I say ‘used to’ because since I added regular, intense exercise I haven’t really had that kind of pain. I used to call it ‘fake’ pain.  No real reason for it, no real fix for it, no beginning, no end.  Elusive and exhausting. Mentally and physically.

Once, I was almost in a car accident and the shock of the situation sent pain shooting through my body. Not because of a jolt or some kind of physical contact, but just the surprise of it.  All the way to my toes and finger tips.  If Guy brakes fast, same thing. Pain, shooting all over.  It’s weird.  I tell myself that it’s unnecessary, but I don’t know how to listen to myself and stop it.

So now I’m not surprised that emotional pain shows up as physical pain for me. I sometimes think that if I cried more…you know, if I ‘got it out’ it might fix that. But I cry plenty 😉

Here’s the deal: Pain sucks, for sure. Some pain you can’t really do anything about. Some pain you medicate. Some pain is left over pain like fibromyalgia flare ups or arthritis from an old injury. Other pain is acute, immediate. The body’s way of screaming “I DO NOT LIKE THIS!”

The craziest thing about pain though is that it separates you. From yourself, your happiness.  From the people around you. It’s non-bonding.  No one else can feel MY pain.  It’s alienating. Outsiders (people outside of me) don’t know how to intervene, to break the circuit that carries the pain from one place to another.  …wait.  I take that back. That cycle of pain has been broken many times. Visits from friends, phone calls, online chats, hugs, requests for work… lots of things short the circuit.  But I guess the problem really is that it’s only a temporary sort of interruption.

When things get quiet.  Thoughts start turning.  Reality, not real reality – not my normal, hopeful, optimistic kind of reality, sets in. Reality that I am sad…still.

But… I am optimistic.  I am excited about my future and the amazing things that happen in my life.  I still think that the world is beautiful, friendly, kind, happy, loving – broken, too. I have complete faith that this pain will not last forever.  I am reminded that if I feel like this there are many people who do too.  I am not talking about comfort through the kinship of pain, because there is no comfort in being a part of other people’s pain along with your own, I don’t think. But I do think that some of those people have maybe fewer or less capable friends, less resources, less satisfying outlets. I am determined to learn the lessons swimming around in my head. I’ll need them, you might need them.

If you know me personally, thanks for being here..reading, calling, telling me jokes and more importantly laughing at mine!

NOTE: (maybe it’s a disclaimer) I am always a little afraid to write these posts.  I don’t want it to look like I am losing it.  Or like I am begging for attention. Or like I don’t need attention. Or that my friends aren’t good enough or that they are perfect. I don’t want people walking around worried or feeling sorry for me. I do want people to follow their hearts without manipulation.  I guess the big deal is that people don’t USUALLY talk about pain, loneliness, sadness and the day in – day outness of it.  I don’t want us to be walking around carrying all our burdens by ourselves-  acting like we don’t have them, or like no one can understand.  I don’t want us all pretending.  It just seems like a lonely waste of time.  So, again, thanks for listening.

Afraid

Today begins a new series of ONE WORD self expression blog posts.

No, you are not so lucky as to come here for only one word.  But my title and twitter updates for these posts will be ONE WORD.

Today I am starting with ‘Afraid’.  I wanted to start with Lonely, Broken, Empty, Sad or… well, you get the idea.  I chose ‘Afraid’ because I was afraid to just tweet “Broken” this morning.  I have been afraid to post ANYTHING not positive since my Dad died and my youngest son and his family moved away.  Who needs to read that anyway?  Broken?  What does it even mean????

Instead I tweeted: What do you use social media for? Getting info? News? Getting to know people? Self expression? Changing the world? #whypostatall

I wanted permission to be me. To use Twitter to express myself.  I wanted it because I don’t know WHY I am tweeting. I am unsure of the impact or who I reach.  I wanted permission to be lazy.  To not think thru my purpose.  And in writing that tweet I remembered… I want to change the world.  My self expression is just for that.

“How can the one-word-tweet “Broken” change the world?” you might ask.  I don’t think it does.  It could, tho, in small incremental ways, with some help… with some understanding.

Here’s what I mean:

I had a friend tell me how well I was doing.  Like he could hardly tell I was grieving. Like he maybe couldn’t tell that my heart hurt, my chest ached and I cried every day.  Like he thought that people not KNOWING you’re sad is an achievement. 

This is what I want to change.

Maybe it’s because I am already broken, but hiding and faking and thinking that pretending will change reality makes me most sad.  It’s like sadness heaped on top of sadness.

I don’t think I have to pretend I am happy to BE happy.  Happiness comes.  Happiness can be honestly found in the middle of sadness…it just pops up.  You might be looking at a flower, or a friend just smiles at you and you remember about hope and that you are loved and…. and there’s happiness popping up.

What is most sad is the lack of honesty, honest feelings, honest expression of the quiet parts of your heart. Or the loud parts. Sometimes my heart seems to be screaming from inside my chest.  Fighting for truth about the good things and about the sad things.  But, I am afraid… that you won’t be able to hang with me, that all those feelings will scare you away, that you aren’t really ready to be honest and it scares you more than it scares me.  And I lose you.  My expression comes at the cost of you.

Selfishly, I lose. I am alone. Globally, we all lose. We lose the real, pure giving of yourself – which is what you are here for.

However, I have decided to face the “Afraid” and opt for changing the world. Small, incremental one-word-twitter type changes for those who listen and may be afraid, but want to be a part of change, growth, life altering healthy honesty.

Thanks for listening. and I do wish just ONE WORD could do the trick. 😉

 

(related: https://bethkolar.wordpress.com/2012/01/25/breaking/)