Journey To Di Road: Day 16 | My 3,527TH Excuse

What can I say? I lost interest in this journey a week after I started writing about it out of pure frustration with myself. That led to a spiral, which led to another spiral, which led to...hmmm, what was that? OH YES. ANOTHER SPIRAL.

So fine. I'm not okay. When I think about going to the gym I die a little bit inside. I'm ashamed of the weight I've gained. I don't want anyone to look at me. I DON'T WANT TO BE SEEN and not in my usual introverted "don't look at me" way, either. The only reason I even bother still coming to work is because I have a kid in college, one about to go to college, and I need the money.

Then just get your ass to the gym and change how you do things! That's the VERY UNSOLICITED advice I get from people who don't understand anxiety or depression. My brain don't work like your brain. I literally scream inside my head get up, go outside, don't eat that, do better, but whatever is supposed to communicate with my physical body is all bitch, shut up; we're sitting here frozen and you'll just have to fucking deal with it.

And don't come at me with the "endorphins" myth because LISTEN TO THIS UNMITIGATED HARD ASS TRUTH: Endorphins are a junky science LIE. I've never felt energized or happy after a workout, only sore and tired and sleepy. Maybe my endorphins are broken? WHO KNOWS STOP ASKING SO MANY STUPID FUCKING QUESTIONS.

But this morning I looked in the mirror and absolutely hated what I saw, who I've become. She is disgusting. She eats too much and then lays around letting life pass by. She never finishes what she starts and she often goes back on her word, especially to herself.

Yeah, this might be a problem.

Seriously, the only thing keeping me together most days is the bomb-ass lipsticks I use to hide behind so people will think I'm fine and normal.

Photo of my poppin' ass lipgloss to distract you from my mental illness

This is Day 16.

Breakfast: a chai and a cheddar scone; they were both gross and I regretted everything about it
Snack: nothing; work was on some bullshit all day and I barely left my desk
Lunch: two tacos, homemade chips, with guac, salsa, and a seltzer; why the fuck not? I needed to stress eat.

I regret nothing!

Victories: just took my vitamins, and started incorporating some GREEN FOOD supplements. I mean, I bought 'em, might as well take 'em
WOMP Moments: my whole life is a WOMP moment; shut up.

Currently, I'm dealing with a mom who's hiding from the world and sending my calls to voicemail, a shitty computer that stops working whenever, wherever, and a very real book deadline, on top of some very overdue shit at work. I'm getting some comfort food today. I'M GETTING SOME COMFORT FOOD TODAY.

And then I'm going to sit at my table and have a Come To Jesus Meeting with my To Do List and decide which of those things just aren't gonna get done. Ever. And force myself to be okay with it.

*smooches...not in the mood for the bullshit*
----------
and by "the bullshit" I mean MY bullshit

I Guess That Makes Me Michael Bivins.

Two posts in one week? Shocking! Someone call the tabloids!

But I have something that needed to be written out, because y'all know that's how I solve things best, and I'm trying to depend less on The Facebook (even though engagement is BETTER there than here).

So I've been in a writing group since about October, and there were five of us. For the past few months we've taken turns submitting stories for feedback and giving feedback on others' work, combined with weekly meetings to discuss said feedback. Easy-peasy.

Well last night, sort of out of nowhere (and I'll explain the sort of later), the guy who organized the group, let's call him Ralph (Tresvant), told one of the other members, we'll call him Bobby (Brown), that he had to go. The actual equivalent of "You can't sit with us!" except among a bunch of nerdy, writing grown-ups. Before he handed down his edict, Ralph had started building his case against Bobby, asking him accusatory questions about the revision he had submitted, questioning his commitment and seriousness and work ethic. From what I gathered, Ralph implied that Bobby wasn't pulling his weight, and was mostly half-assing his writing and editing efforts, and Ralph feels it's a waste of the group's time.

You could have cut the tension with a knife last night.

And listen, those are legitimate concerns to have whenever you're in a group like this. If you feel one member is a weak link, address it before the whole group suffers. I get that. Where this went left is that, right before my eyes, Ralph channeled Rafael Leónidas Trujillo Molina, made an executive decision, and told Bobby to step. Another member, we'll call him Ricky (Bell), tried to intercept and asked Ralph, "Are we going to discuss this?" but Ralph was all "Nah. Bobby gotta go. And y'all can stay or go, but Bobby GOT TO GO." And I'm sitting there, locking eyes with the other member, Ronnie (DeVoe), who happens to be Ralph's partner, wondering if suddenly I had to prove I could properly pronounce perejil or risk getting chucked into Massacre River.

Y'all. I don't need this stress. I just want a safe space to share my work and get honest feedback so that I can get my work published. DASSIT. How did my life become fodder for a "Behind the Music Writing" episode?

And regarding the sort of, Ralph and Bobby have been clashing since Day 1, and I could see that their personalities didn't match up. And frankly, a lot of times Bobby needs to be wrangled and reigned in, and yes, if the personalities don't mesh in a group then YES, changes need to be made.

However, the way Ralph pulled rank and refused to discuss his decision, and basically implied that Ricky and I don't have a say--the equivalent of "If you don't like it, you can leave, too!"--did not, DOES NOT, sit well with me. Yes, he organized the group, but we're a group. Why can't we discuss this? Why can't you approach Bobby on your own with your concerns? Why the blow up at the table in front of god and everyone at the coffee shop? Child. I mean, is it me, or does that speak to an issue with Ralph's personality, as well as coping and leadership skills?

I've already discussed this with 2/3 of the Jaded Advisory Board, so now I guess I'll see what y'all think; I'm about 82.7% sure of my next move, which starts with contacting both Ralph and Bobby, and letting them know I won't be participating in a tug-o-war. Le sigh.

And quietly, I'm starting to feel more like Tamar Braxton, in that scene of "Braxton Family Values" when her sister Towanda yelled, "Every group you've ever been in has failed!" Every writing group I've been in fizzled. Is it me? IS IT ME?

What say you, lovelies?

*smooches...wondering if I should just create in a bubble*
----------
I like collaborating, but these hos ain't loyal... and sorry about the mixed analogies, by the way

#NMOS14

"Join us as we gather for a moment of silence for those who have been victims of police brutality throughout the U.S. Bring posters and signs w/the names and pictures of victims so that we can remember them and burn them in the conscious of America and the world."

In Brooklyn, there's a vigil planned at Fulton Park Plaza; in Manhattan I know of one in Union Square and another in Harlem. Follow the #NMOS14 to find one in your area. And please, we're all angry, but this is a peaceful vigil to remember our fallen brothers and sisters. Let's keep it that way.

*smooches...trying to hold back tears for the sixth day in a row*
----------
not sure how much longer before I burst

Musical Interlude For Sanity's Sake

Because if I don't dance these feelings out, you're going to see me on the six o'clock news, atop the clock tower downtown, picking off cops one at a time. Real talk.

Yeah I said it.



Play this on repeat and dance with me.

*smooches...trying to release this negative energy*
----------
I got nothing, man. just let me dance in peace.

Where My Tuition Payments Went

ME: someone is trying to get me to watch "Fargo" on TV.

K: Isn't that about wolves? And the wilderness?

ME: No... there's a movie called Fargo with Steve Buscemi but it's not about wolves.

K: Yes! That book, it's a classic, about wolves!

ME (thinking really hard): You mean Call of the Wild?

K: YES! Is it written by someone named Fargo?

ME (googles): NO. It's by Jack London.

K: There's something with an "F" about wolves and the wilderness...

ME: You mean White Fang?

K: Possibly.

ME: How is that anywhere close to "Fargo"?

K: There's a book about wolves! I'm going to find it!

Lord Jesus, help this child of mine. Freshman year has clearly stolen her brain.

*smooches...realizing my kids are me all over again*
----------
can you think of anything scarier??

Food Is My Drug: A Healthy Jaded Update

It's only a matter of time before I overdose. And by overdose I mean get diagnosed with something like diabetes or high blood pressure or death. Then I'll really have something to be all upset and mopey about.

Last time I got on a scale, maybe a month ago, I was 200lbs. TWO HUNDRED. Folks, this is not a drill. This is not a joke. Jaded is 200lbs of jiggly fat. And it's all settled in her stomach (boooo!) and tits (oh for fuck's sake!) and ass (finally!).

Booty-licious BUT that stomach, tho!

I cannot stop eating. It's like a vicious cycle: I eat these bad foods with additives that make me crave more bad foods with more additives and when I stop all I can think of is I NEED MORE BAD FOODS WITH ADDITIVES. I'm thinking about it right now. Right now. I'm imagining crispy fried chicken. Or homemade tortilla chips and guac. A trough of guac. And fries. I want all of it. I NEED all of it.

"When's the baby due, Raquel?"

And I know it's the food that has me too sluggish to go work out, keeping me from focusing on my work, writing or relationships. My finances are struggling. I'm finding it hard to "give a fuck." That's what additives do. They're the drug that makes you not care about anything. And I want to care because look at me. LOOK AT ME! I'M HIDEOUS!! I'M A FUCKING WHALE!!!

I look like a block of cheese. Gov't cheese.

I have a plan in place. In my head. Someone come over here and drag me to the gym to execute it, and while you're add it, delete my Seamless account?

This is an official cry for help. Thanks!

*smooches...wondering how long before heart attack*
----------
it runs in my family. I swore I wouldn't be next. but now, who knows?

If You Want It You Got It

"Here is the thing. Yoga is not about bliss, but about honesty. Spirituality is not certainty, but the longing of the heart. Enlightenment is not ‘letting go’ of bad feelings, but understanding them, what they’re doing to us, and how they are expressed in the body." -Karin L. Burke

I'll be giving it a go again this weekend. Clearly I was in the wrong mindset before. Maybe this time it will stick.



If Lenny Kravits was my yoga instructor, though, I'd NEVER quit again!

*smooches...not so much inspiration for you but for me*
----------
I mean, it IS all about me anyway, always, every time

I OK, As Long As De Music Plays

I had a rough week.

A lot of plans blew up in my face and other things are threatening my patience and my sanity. Times like this I have no choice but to shrink away so I can find a solution or nurse my wounds.

When I heard about actor Lee Thompson Young ("The Famous Jett Jackson," "Rizzoli & Isles") committing suicide, I was sad, but mostly thankful for a coping mechanism for my own woes. "There but for the grace of god go I." There's always something or someone to bring me back.

And I always, always have music.



I can always bury myself in the arts and come out of it reborn. When you feel yourself falling down that rabbit hole, find that "thing" that anchors you. That anchor will save your life.

Trust me.

*smooches...hoping you're OK, too*
-----------
I learned that "anchor" thing from watching "Teen Wolf" on Netflix. Get into it.

Six Minutes

I've never seen Vision Quest in its entirety, but this clip was pretty good, a little something that was delivered to my inbox courtesy of Circuit of Change.



There are a lot of Six Minutes throughout my day that I waste away. Might be a good idea to take them a bit more seriously.

How are you making the most of your day? Any tips? I'm asking for a friend...

*smooches...trying to be a more productive citizen*
-----------
it doesn't always work, though. I blame Jesus and Obama.

We Will Always Share, Nuh Care How Meager The Meal

When I decided to become a writer, I knew that my life would not include traveling down the easy road. I knew that I would not be swimming in money. I knew that the arts is something you undertake for the sake of the arts. And I'm OK with all of that.

This life, however, can wear people out, especially for the unlucky ones who have to wonder where their next paycheck is coming from. And yes, it's PURE LUCK that a writing position opened in a marketing department at a non-profit I believe in and is very close to home so that my commute doesn't involve the annoying yuppies of Park Slope. So much luck was involved, especially because this job helps me grow as a writer AND allows me the freedom to still work on my personal projects on the side.

Around me, though, are those who haven't found that balance of a job that pays the bills and also nourishes them. I think this helps fuel me in my endeavors, though, because I know there are a slew of talented and amazing people that would be perfect additions to The Jaded Empire, now that I'm actively working toward making that dream a reality.

Please believe that those who've been down with me from jump have a home with me, and if not, I'm here to help you find your calling if you need me to. Because what fun will it be to live my dream if my homies are still mired in muck? No sir! As I lift myself up, I'm gonna work to keep y'all uplifted! I mean, y'all have to put in work, too, but this is war, son, and I don't leave anyone behind (unless, you know, it's PMS Week and you've pissed me off...).

Most importantly, get those positive vibes and energies flowing. Yesterday's mistakes are yesterday's mistakes. You wake up every day with the chance to make it right.



I hear the brighter side of life is just more fun and productive, you know?

*smooches...wishing you a life with no moss*
-----------
now, go forth and prosper over the weekend!

I Awake Each Day With The New Sunrise

So yesterday...yeah, man, I was going to post something but nothing seemed good enough. See, it was the anniversary of my grandmother's death and, well, you already know.

Then today I'm on The Twitter and scattered all over my timeline is the aftermath and remnants of an ugly mess (that had nothing to do with me) playing itself out in public. This happens at least once a month on #BlackTwitter but it doesn't make it easier to swallow each time. At first I let it suck me in because c'mon, I'm human. Shit like this is tasty and I tend to be greedy. But then it wasn't. Then it was giving my bubbleguts. Then it was leaving a bad taste in my mouth. Then it was reminding me to mind my own business and not frolic among the negative energy.

My grandmother didn't come to this country, watch other people's kids, take in other people's laundry and basically make herself sick taking care of us for me to sit at a desk watching someone's life being dragged through the internets.

Earlier this evening, after a feast of Buffalo wings and waffle fries (OH YEAH) I took K to get her very first tattoo. When we parted ways so she could go with her dad for the weekend and I could go home to be lazy, she ran to hug me and said "I feel like I should stay; I just got my first tattoo with you. It's like postpartum depression or something!" and let me kiss and squeeze her cheeks while using baby talk. In public.

This is what I should be concerning myself with: my family. Hugging them, kissing them and treating them whenever they deserve it and I can afford to.



Blessed is this life...never forget it.

*smooches...celebrating being alive*
-----------
I don't think grandma would be happy about the body art, but she'd be happy about the togetherness.

When I Do It I Don't Look Back

Rarely will a Beyonce song move me. OK, that might be a lie. I think I can name at least five Beyonce songs that I've shaken my ass to over the years. Or more. Whatever, shut up. Let me just give you this week's inspirational message in peace, OK? Sheesh!

Yesterday, I mentioned my lamentations about having thrown myself into the position of Head of Household, and how the experience shook me. That was October of 2005. Right now, in this glorious year of our lord Jesus Christ (2013), I walk around making no apologies for any of the decisions that I've made.

Oh, I left you while you were at your lowest point in life? Too bad, so sad. I turned my back on the possibility career in the sciences to pursue the arts? That's how I roll. I'm happily SINGLE AND FABULOUS, EXCLAMATION POINT yet you can't understand why I just won't get a man in my life? Bitch, have a seat.

I'm a grown woman. I can do WHATEVER I want.



I want you all to know this is more about following your true path and less about singing a little diddy by a card-carrying member of the Illuminati (although it is a damn good song, Mrs. Carter). This is definitely about believing in your own ability to make shit happen for yourself, regardless of who is in your corner and who isn't.

You're going to make mistakes. You're not going to have all the answers. You're going to hit more than a couple of brick walls. But the stories you'll be able to tell along this fantastic journey, well, shit, isn't that what it's all about? The fantastic journey?

Do yourself a favor: be grown. Do whatever you want.

*smooches...memorizing that choreography*
----------
this would be a good song to play at the gym, or right before I take the mic at a reading...

Working On My Shit

Shortly after writing a small paragraph on how writer's block is nothing more than me seeking an excuse for my procrastination, I decided to keep procrastinating. On EVERYTHING. And it made me sick to my stomach.

I've been meeting with friends recently about plans for our future, stuff we want to accomplish, and let me tell you- it's not going to happen while watching "Orange Is the New Black" on Netflix until I pass out (although that show is really good and maybe you should check it out).

But I need to take advantage of this time: K is about to be out of the house, N is super busy with sports, music and Algebra. Now is when I should be plotting the next phase of my life in preparation for her departure in five years. And there are so many awesome things on my list, whittled down from a GINORMOUS tome that used to include Become A Health & Fitness Expert/Advocate (fuck the fatties!) and Have A Baby With My JHS Crush (my uterus said NO), and it's exciting.

I'm all about that hustle & grind right now: who can I connect with to get to that next level? Where else can I get a byline? Oh look- computers are for more than just watching twerk videos at three in the morning!

I shall be the Queen of Everything Literary, and you will all bow down to my word prowess like the peons that you are.



Or, you know, come visit and say hi.

Make sure you're using your time wisely, folks. Chase your dream everyday in every way. Act like the rent is due (which it is, on Thursday!) and you're still short by ALL OF IT. Light that fire under your ass and invest in yourself before you wreck yourself...

Did that make sense? Whatever, my brain is too busy planning moves. MOVES, SON!

*smooches...getting this work*
-----------
yes, I'm currently obsessed with this song. and so is N. so what!

Laughs & Truths

So once again I want to point out that my favorite podcast, The Read, needs to be your favorite podcast, too.

This week's episode is full of the usual shenanigans, but also discusses the Zimmerman trial (and in case you're all "Ugh, I'm tired of hearing about this stupid trial!" well guess what- I'm tired of our black sons dying necessarily and the law saying it's OK. So there's that.).

And one point in particular, made by @Crissle during her read, stuck out to me the most: the idea of respectability politics, which can be defined as "a deliberate concession to mainstream societal values" in order to gain favor with the perceived "majority." I'll let you listen for yourself; start at 55:38 for Crissle's read and get your life.



I've been there, siding against my brethren regardless of the details just to keep the eyes off of me and not become a target myself. And mostly because remember, I denied my blackness for a big chunk of my life. Whenever blacks were portrayed negatively on the news or, you know, EVERYWHERE, I distinctly remember thinking "well that's not me because I went to a good school and I follow the rules and I do what I'm supposed to. Plus, I'm Dominican; I'm not even black!" Knowing damn well my black-ass was black.

So I connected to what Crissle was saying, and I understand both sides of the coin, but still, my black brothers and sisters: I urge you to wake up. Let's not turn against each other.

Amen and good day.

*smooches...growing and healing*
----------
reflecting on my own black guilt during these hard-as-fuck times

Take This Music And Use It

A while ago I read Dr. Weill's Eight Weeks to Optimal Health and in it the doctor suggests that we distance ourselves from newspapers and the 11 o'clock news, because it poisons us. And I've tried to do that since I read that, but this George Zimmerman trial has taken over my soul.

I'm not going to tell you what to think or do or anything else with regard to this trial. In fact, I'm disabling comments because I don't want anyone to act ignorant on my blog. I'm not trying to be the next person in an orange jumpsuit.

But I am accepting that the outcome of this trial is not within my control. I'm not on the jury. I'm not the judge and I'm not on the prosecution's team. I'm releasing the anxiety I feel in my soul over this whole case. I'm going to go home and hug my babies and be thankful that they're okay. And be hopeful that justice will prevail in Florida.



Take a moment and think of everything that is stressing you out right now. Is it worth a heart attack? Is it worth your tears? Will your bad feelings or bad health, in any way, change the source of your stress? Be hopeful. Let go of the badness.

*smooches...practicing my yogic breath*
----------
this trial, though, is getting on my LAST motherfucking nerve. LAST. ONE.

I'm No Fool...I'm Just Upside Down

The hardest thing to be in this world is different.

Different makes people uncomfortable. When you can't be put on a shelf and labeled, all hell breaks loose. And when you realize YOU are the different one, a panic sets in that makes you want to lay low so that no one will know you're different. So no one will judge you. So no one will try and force you to be un-different. (Yeah, I just made that up. DEAL.)

I am different. I see the world differently and I handle things differently. I don't do it to get attention or to stand out; the last thing I want to do is stand out. I just want to be left to my different-ness. I don't want a smartphone because it doesn't work for my budget and I didn't like how attached I was to my Blackberry when I had it. I don't take pain meds because my body knows how to sort itself out. We were born with the ability to heal ourselves. If it means I'm uncomfortable for a little bit, well, what's a "little bit" in the grand scheme of things?

And I don't want to see a shrink because that kind of "help" doesn't work for me. That's not how my brain operates.

Sometimes I regret sharing things on this blog, because I keep revealing my different-ness and then I feel the need to go into damage control. It's very "public relations" of me (I've been in this industry too damn long!) but that's what happens. I never want to feel like I have to explain anything to anybody; I like to respond with JUST DEAL and keep it moving. But occasionally I have to break it down so that I can finally be left alone.

I'm not getting a smartphone. I'm not stocking Aleve in my medicine cabinet. I'm NOT going to see a therapist. And I most definitely won't apologize for any of it.



Think about what sets you apart from the crowd and cherish it. Embrace it. You don't have to be like everyone else, even if they try to beat it into your head. If you walk when everyone else runs, so be it. People don't have to understand you and you don't have to explain why. Your opinions matter and, as long as you're not infringing on another's life and choices, continue to bask in being different.

*smooches...letting go*
-----------
now that THAT'S out of the way, we can start to get crunk again!!

The Rain Won't Last Forever

Despite the shits and giggles I may have shared with you last week, or will share with you next week, please believe I'm in the middle of a shit-storm of emotions, mostly bad and sad ones. And before you ask, no, there's nothing you can do about it and yes, I'll be fine (I hope!), so please, as usual- DON'T ASK ME ABOUT IT.

Just yesterday, as I was leaving the house, LATE AGAIN, I was trying to make sure I had my keys, wallet, metrocard, work ID, keys, dayplanner, snacks, workout gear for physical therapy, did I eat breakfast so I can take my meds?, and then made mental notes that I needed to write a few proposals for projects I'm working on and plan K's graduation dinner and FOR FUCK'S SAKE WHERE THE FUCK IS MY CELLPHONE CHARGER?!?!--it hit me: there are too many moving parts to my life. I can't ever just leave the house after I get dressed. I can't just come home and go to bed. Being a mom gets in the way. Being a friend gets in the way. Being a responsible, law-abiding citizen gets in the way. HAVING TO BREATHE OXYGEN GETS IN THE WAY.

Are you here with me? In the crazy room from hell? Wondering where your youthful vigor for life went? Where your desire to be a part of the world ran off to? Where all of the fucks you used to give went? Let's all just take a minute to exhale.



I know everyone is busy, and I realize I blog about being too busy and doing too much quarterly. There is a method (and a schedule) to my madness. But I guess it just affects me more than others. I'm told hard times don't last. Christians regurgitate the "This Too Shall Pass" platitude every chance they get. Today, seeing as I don't have to bring N to her band practice clear across town, and I can save my eardrums from the constant loudness, I'm going to take a minute (or 50) to collect myself and my thoughts.

There is a better way to live this life. There is a way to not stress eat. There is a way to get everything done without having a heart attack. I'm going to solve this puzzle and help this pass from me.

I'd really like to live long enough to see 39.

*smooches...wishing you all a stress-free weekend*
-----------
I might have to actually work out this weekend...

Birthday Vacation Countdown: I'm Beyond Your Peripheral Vision

People talk a lot of shit. Eventually the shit-slinging will come your way. Sometimes it will come from someone you love and thought had your best insterest at heart. You can't control this. I know I'm not a religious person and that my relationship with all things Jesus has been reduced to catch phrases and punchlines, but one thing I've learned to do in my old age is to "let go and let god," whomever your god may be.

I read a quote once that read "What other people think of you is none of your business" and I was all WORD?? But it's true. If someone thinks I'm mean or rude or boring or fat or ugly (someone besides me & The Voices, that is) it's not my problem. This is me--take it or leave it. And if you decide to leave it, well, that's one less birthday cheer I have to write on the Facebook.



Please know that if you can look in the mirror and be happy with what you've accomplished that day, it doesn't even matter what your neighbor thinks. Fuck that neighbor. She's got too much time on her hands anyway. Why is she all up in yours when her kids are running the streets like vagabonds? Fuck her whole life. And just enjoy yours!

*smooches...loving me as is, at least for today*
----------
I could get used to this "wise" bullshit...

Go On And Love Yourself

Yesterday during physical therapy, as I was trying to get through holding a plank for as long as possible TEN TIMES IN A ROW, I curled up into folded-leaf child pose and whispered to my body, "I hate you." Instantly I felt bad about that, but I meant it.

I hate that this body, the same one that showed such promise in modern dance all those years ago, could barely hold a plank for more than 11 seconds. And every time the PT stretched my piriformis muscle (GIRL I'm picking up so much in these sessions. Soon I'll be a freakin' PT!) I wanted to cry out, give up and go home.

It's just too much. It hurts so much. And yes, at that very moment of trying to compete all the plank reps, as well as at various times throughout the day, I hate(d) my body, for every thing it can't do and every things it does. It's clearly evident that I hate this body by the way I mistreat and mis-feed it. Somewhere along the way, my body and I had a falling out and have never sat at the table to talk it out. We only sit at the table to eat.

But those bitter thoughts aren't going to help me get through these sessions. I thought I'd be done by the end of May and instead it's looking like mid-July before I get a reprieve.



I'm trying to get to a place where I look in the mirror and smile at myself. A real genuine smile. I foolishly thought that male attention and validation would make me love my body but it didn't. I have to love it on my own terms. I'm not sure how to get there, but I'm looking to buy a ticket for that journey.

Folks, I want you to know that the only validation you need in life is your own. You need to go to bed at night at peace with yourself, knowing you fought the good fight, were kind to yourself and others, and really did your best. This is what I'm working on. This is what I want you to work on. I want all of us strutting down the street genuinely believing we are hot shit.

Can the church say Amen?

*smooches...realizing self-esteem is not my strong suit
----------
maybe I just need more suitors...or less gray pubes...

She Is Frequently Kind And She's Suddenly Cruel

Part of being a recovering Catholic is dealing with residual guilt. About everything. Earlier this week K asked me to do her hair, but I was in the middle of my morning routine and it's so important to me to stay on course, so I told her no. The guilt followed me all day.

On Wednesday, when the rain was out of control, N reminded me that she didn't have an umbrella, or rather she didn't know where her umbrella was. I responded with, "Why should I give you mine and get soaked because you don't keep after your stuff?" Again, guilt followed. I ended up giving her money to buy an umbrella and walked her to the bus stop with mine.

Times like that I have to remind myself that I'm a good person. I love my family and I do for them whenever I can. Same with my friends. So if once in a while I decide to look out for me and my happiness, I should not feel guilty about it.
 



I'm still a good person. And most of y'all are good people, too (except for YOU; you know who you are!). Don't let anyone make you feel bad for taking some time to enjoy your own company or do the thing you really want to do for yourself, whether it be a solo movie date, a solo ice cream-fest or a solo day on the couch with iTunes and overdue library books.

Personal time is my right; it does not make me "bad" to indulge in it.

*smooches...about to engage is some selfish activities*
----------
and I won't apologize for it, either!