I'm skipping over the taking a picture of myself in something I have been afraid to wear, and going straight for the FIVE WOMEN WHO HAVE CHANGED MY LIFE list.
Some of these women may have changed my life for the better, some may not have knowingly done it.
1. Helen Keller - I was obsessed with you growing up.
I read EVERYTHING I could on Helen Keller and wanted to be her. Not the blind, deaf, and mute person but the person who overcame EVERYTHING and became an amazing inspiration and teacher. Yes, Annie Sullivan, you deserve insane amounts of credit for shaping Ms. Keller into the person she was, but the strength in Helen Keller's character was inside of her and Annie Sullivan just helped her to get that out into the world so the rest of us could appreciate her.
My favorite Helen Keller quote is "The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt within the heart."
2. My grandmother, M. Irene Champagne Hart - you are inside my soul, and every day I am reminded of the awesomeness that you were.
Sounds cliche, but my grandmother, Grammy, changed my life exponentially. I remember as a little kid singing in the backseat of the car "YAY, YAY TO GRAMMY'S!" every time we would make the drive to visit her. It was always special, exciting, and fun. She had games for us to play, she always had Fiddle Faddle hidden in her cabinet, and always laughed and never got angry at us even when we were tearing her house apart like most little kids did. She even figured out that I was afraid of her wigs, and put her wig on the stairs so that I wouldn't fall and kill myself when I was learning to walk. Yes, to this day, I am still kind of afraid of wigs. I don't know why, but when they are not on a form or on a person, I expect them to come alive and smother me.
Growing up, my grandmother was always there. Even when my mother became more ill and started to withdraw from life and bring my brother and I into her abyss, my grandmother made the effort to be there for us. When my father and I left my mother, she took us in, and put up with my teenage bullshitty angst and still loved me when I told her I hated her. Through all the crap that I put her through, she was always there for me. I was ashamed of myself for a multitude of reasons as a young adult, and withdrew from the family. She still welcomed me back and was happy when I told her that I had gotten married. I spent the last months of her life visiting her, just being with her, and she taught me so much about unconditional love. Without her in my life, I would have been a very lonely, bitter bitch. I owe her so much and I miss her every day since she left this Earth. I look forward to seeing her again so I can return all those hugs and tell her how much I appreciate her.
3. My mother. Yes, you KNEW she would have to be on the list, right? Really? You didn't? Shocking. I know... funny, right? The woman who taught me to hate myself, that family didn't matter, and gave me my first cigarette when I was 7 years old. In spite of the crazy that was her, she did change my life. I am a much stronger person than I ever could have been with a "normal" mother. I am constantly mindful of how much my words may hurt someone, and I am kinder as a result. I understand that was not her objective, that everything that she did teach me was out of resentment and hatred, but I am who I am IN SPITE of her.
There is nothing more gratifying than proving someone wrong. I am happy to say to her, wherever she is, YOU WERE FUCKING WRONG ABOUT ME. I am not a loser, I am not ugly, and I am worthy of other people's love. I will never forget what you did to me, but I will NEVER give you power over me. For that, I thank you.
4. My aunt, Pauline Champagne Dee. Artistic, fun, and the person who showed me my first dirty movie. So, it was "Porky's," not exactly a porn but for the time it was VERY risque and AWESOME. Later on in my life, she was the first person I reached out to when I was trying to make amends to the family that I had isolated myself from. She welcomed me with open arms, and encouraged me to find the strength to rebuild my relationship with my grandmother. My aunt is a tough woman, and does not have much of a filter. She will tell you exactly how she sees it, and I have mad respect for her because of it.
When my parents separated, I spent a great deal of time with her at my grandmother's house, as well as at her home. She was my escape from the reality of being an asshole teenager and always made sure we did fun stuff. She is my second mother - and I really needed that female influence growing up. I wish I could be a better person and spend more time with her, but I am still battling a lot of those inner demons and am still working through some things. I hope she knows how much of a positive influence she has had on me, because without her, I would probably go insane.
5. My cousin, Diane Sheehan. Yes, I do have three very amazing women in my family who have influenced who I am, and every single one of them deserves a standing ovation and a lifetime of gratitude from me. Diane is one of the best people ever to grace this earth. She taught me the importance of feeling pretty. She introduced me to painting my toes when I was really young, and we slathered ourselves with baby oil to get tans by the pool in the summertime (nobody thought about melanoma back then!). I even spent the night at her house and we got up at the asscrack to watch Lady Diana marry her Prince. We did the same when Fergie married her Prince. So many cool memories with my cousin that have shaped who I am today!
She is 14 years older than me, but you would never know it. When I was 16, an old guy bagging our groceries commented on how cool it was to have a twin sister... he meant me and my 30 year old cousin! She was flattered, I was absolutely mortified. To this day, people think that Diane and I are sisters, or that her daughter Mary and I are sisters. We do look alike, but our ages are separated by 14 years either way - I am 14 years younger than Diane, and 14 years older than her daughter Mary. Kind of weird but just right.
So, there you have it. This was an effortless writing exercise for me, since I have always had these women in my heart or on my mind and they have in their own ways shaped me into who I am today. Some of it is bad, but for the most part amazing. I appreciate all of their influence no matter if it has been positive or negative. Without any of these pieces to the puzzle, I would not be the person that I am today.
And for that, dear ladies, I bow to you. (Curtsy is so passe!)
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
if beauty didn't matter...
I would probably not be as shallow as I am.
*THUD*
Yes, you read that correctly. I am shallow. I do judge people based on their appearance, I do compare myself to others CONSTANTLY, and I really do care about what people think about me. And it is all based on beauty and how I judge MYSELF.
The word beauty is so subjective. Is it a green leaf, Gisele Bundchen, or the sound of a child laughing? Everyone has a different definition, but I am going to go with the one that makes me so fucking vain. My physical appearance.
I wake up every morning, and hide my fat from my husband. I immediately go to my bathroom and brush my hair so I don't look like Broom Hilda. I get dressed before he comes upstairs so he cannot see my flaws. There are a LOT of them, so it takes a lot of effort to conceal.
Oh, doggies - you need a walk? Wait a minute, I have to put on my mascara before anyone sees me! The world would stop and the Zombie Apocalypse would begin if anyone saw me without makeup. Shit! No time for that? Sunglasses it is then, dear poochies!
If beauty did not matter, I would have so much more time to myself. I would also have a shit-ton of money and live in a much better house in a quiet neighborhood, and definitely with nicer furniture. I spend MAD, INSANE amounts of money on makeup, clothes, getting my hair done and roots colored, hair removal... you name it and I spend money on it.
I also spend so much time making myself look somewhat attractive, or at least minimally offensive, that I am probably missing out on a lot. At least two hours a day is devoted to makeup, clothes, and overall grooming and maintenance. Yeah... beauty is all-encompassing, time-sucking, and mentally draining.
If beauty did not matter... I would just focus on the me that is inside. The one who laughs, reads, enjoys taking in a Patriots' game, go out more with friends, and actually enjoy life. Because beauty DOES matter to me, I don't enjoy any of those things because I am just too fucking preoccupied with what all of you think.
And that's the truth.
*THUD*
Yes, you read that correctly. I am shallow. I do judge people based on their appearance, I do compare myself to others CONSTANTLY, and I really do care about what people think about me. And it is all based on beauty and how I judge MYSELF.
The word beauty is so subjective. Is it a green leaf, Gisele Bundchen, or the sound of a child laughing? Everyone has a different definition, but I am going to go with the one that makes me so fucking vain. My physical appearance.
I wake up every morning, and hide my fat from my husband. I immediately go to my bathroom and brush my hair so I don't look like Broom Hilda. I get dressed before he comes upstairs so he cannot see my flaws. There are a LOT of them, so it takes a lot of effort to conceal.
Oh, doggies - you need a walk? Wait a minute, I have to put on my mascara before anyone sees me! The world would stop and the Zombie Apocalypse would begin if anyone saw me without makeup. Shit! No time for that? Sunglasses it is then, dear poochies!
If beauty did not matter, I would have so much more time to myself. I would also have a shit-ton of money and live in a much better house in a quiet neighborhood, and definitely with nicer furniture. I spend MAD, INSANE amounts of money on makeup, clothes, getting my hair done and roots colored, hair removal... you name it and I spend money on it.
I also spend so much time making myself look somewhat attractive, or at least minimally offensive, that I am probably missing out on a lot. At least two hours a day is devoted to makeup, clothes, and overall grooming and maintenance. Yeah... beauty is all-encompassing, time-sucking, and mentally draining.
If beauty did not matter... I would just focus on the me that is inside. The one who laughs, reads, enjoys taking in a Patriots' game, go out more with friends, and actually enjoy life. Because beauty DOES matter to me, I don't enjoy any of those things because I am just too fucking preoccupied with what all of you think.
And that's the truth.
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
The first time someone used the "f" word to describe me...
This is writing prompt #2 from Curvy Girl Brittany Gibbon's blog. I have a feeling these are going to get tougher and tougher as the month goes on, but here goes...
"When was the first time someone called you fat? How did it change your life?"
Fuck.
This is a tough question. I honestly cannot remember if this was the ACTUAL first time, or if it is the first time that I can remember.
I was 13 years old. My mother had been institutionalized for six months at a mental hospital. They thought when they told me that she hurt her back that I would believe them. I always knew something was wrong with her. She just wasn't like other mothers. She always stayed home, in the dark, smoking her cigarettes, and drinking copious amounts of coffee. When people would ring the doorbell, she would have us hide and pretend we weren't home. Sure, it would sound weird to you, but to me? This was my normal.
While she was away, recovering from her back injury (read: SHOCK TREATMENTS), I was in charge of things. My father worked full time, and I have a brother who is three years younger than me. At 13 years old, I would come home from school first (junior high always got out earlier than the little elementary school) and run straight to the freezer. Ice cream - specifically, Hood Almond Praline Delight ice cream - was my savior. I would eat half of the half-gallon container, and hide it in the back of the freezer before my brother came home. I was ravenous, partly because I didn't get any lunch money and partly because my heart was hurting and I needed to fill this void inside of me.
When she came home from the hospital, I remember her sitting in the kitchen, smoking her cigarettes and snarled at me, "You're fat. You're ugly. Nobody is ever going to love you."
I am now 42 years old - almost 30 years later - and I still have that strong self-loathing because of what she said to me. I KNOW - at least the rational side of me knows - that it was just the rantings of an angry, mentally ill person who happened to have given birth to me, but the emotional side of me - also known as my enemy - tells me that she would be the one person who did know me and what she said was true.
Since that day, I have hated myself. I have been hurt. I have been angry. I don't like looking in the mirror. I cannot allow anyone to take pictures of myself.
I have never believed ONE PERSON who has paid me a compliment. I always question their motives, and even my husband has given up trying to make me believe that I am not ugly and that I deserve love.
I wish I could truly tell an inspiring story about how a 13 year old girl got her feelings hurt, and turned into this incredible person who empowers others, but I can't. It's not true, and I don't believe it ever will be true. I have gone from having anorexia to having a binge eating disorder. I even gained 100 pounds in one year - Ben and Jerry became my best friends after having a miscarriage 15 years ago. I hated myself even more because I couldn't even do that right. I locked myself in my apartment after coming home from work and would eat. I ate until I got myself so large that I couldn't feel. Nobody would look at me, nobody would talk to me, and I was alone because that is what I thought I deserved. I protected myself from hurt by getting large.
This sucks. It really does. I wish I had a daughter so I could give her all the strength that was sucked from my own soul, because no girl deserves to feel about herself the way that I do. I know that I am not alone, but it sure as shit feels like I am alone. All. The. Time. My poor husband. He doesn't know how I truly feel about myself... but you, whoever you are, now know my ugliest truth.
"When was the first time someone called you fat? How did it change your life?"
Fuck.
This is a tough question. I honestly cannot remember if this was the ACTUAL first time, or if it is the first time that I can remember.
I was 13 years old. My mother had been institutionalized for six months at a mental hospital. They thought when they told me that she hurt her back that I would believe them. I always knew something was wrong with her. She just wasn't like other mothers. She always stayed home, in the dark, smoking her cigarettes, and drinking copious amounts of coffee. When people would ring the doorbell, she would have us hide and pretend we weren't home. Sure, it would sound weird to you, but to me? This was my normal.
While she was away, recovering from her back injury (read: SHOCK TREATMENTS), I was in charge of things. My father worked full time, and I have a brother who is three years younger than me. At 13 years old, I would come home from school first (junior high always got out earlier than the little elementary school) and run straight to the freezer. Ice cream - specifically, Hood Almond Praline Delight ice cream - was my savior. I would eat half of the half-gallon container, and hide it in the back of the freezer before my brother came home. I was ravenous, partly because I didn't get any lunch money and partly because my heart was hurting and I needed to fill this void inside of me.
When she came home from the hospital, I remember her sitting in the kitchen, smoking her cigarettes and snarled at me, "You're fat. You're ugly. Nobody is ever going to love you."
I am now 42 years old - almost 30 years later - and I still have that strong self-loathing because of what she said to me. I KNOW - at least the rational side of me knows - that it was just the rantings of an angry, mentally ill person who happened to have given birth to me, but the emotional side of me - also known as my enemy - tells me that she would be the one person who did know me and what she said was true.
Since that day, I have hated myself. I have been hurt. I have been angry. I don't like looking in the mirror. I cannot allow anyone to take pictures of myself.
I have never believed ONE PERSON who has paid me a compliment. I always question their motives, and even my husband has given up trying to make me believe that I am not ugly and that I deserve love.
I wish I could truly tell an inspiring story about how a 13 year old girl got her feelings hurt, and turned into this incredible person who empowers others, but I can't. It's not true, and I don't believe it ever will be true. I have gone from having anorexia to having a binge eating disorder. I even gained 100 pounds in one year - Ben and Jerry became my best friends after having a miscarriage 15 years ago. I hated myself even more because I couldn't even do that right. I locked myself in my apartment after coming home from work and would eat. I ate until I got myself so large that I couldn't feel. Nobody would look at me, nobody would talk to me, and I was alone because that is what I thought I deserved. I protected myself from hurt by getting large.
This sucks. It really does. I wish I had a daughter so I could give her all the strength that was sucked from my own soul, because no girl deserves to feel about herself the way that I do. I know that I am not alone, but it sure as shit feels like I am alone. All. The. Time. My poor husband. He doesn't know how I truly feel about myself... but you, whoever you are, now know my ugliest truth.
Dear 32 year old me...
Psst... Kristin... that guy you are with? He does not love you. He has never loved you. When he says he loves you, he is only telling you he loves having SEX WITH YOU. He never spends the night, he never has introduced you to any of his friends, and only takes you to places near where you live.
HE. DOES. NOT. LOVE. YOU.
He lied to you when he said that he was separated from his wife.
He left you crying and writhing in pain when you broke your ankle. To go to his WIFE.
He lied to you when he said you were the only one for him.
He never once spent a holiday with you, and he is the reason you hate your birthday.
He lied to you when he said he bought you a ring.
He cried poor mouth, but somehow bought himself some really nice things. WITH HIS WIFE'S MONEY.
He lied to you when he begged you not to move 40 miles away.
And then bought a house WITH HIS WIFE A WEEK LATER.
He is a liar. Your life is going to be so much happier without his emotional cancer in your life. He does not make you feel good about yourself. He makes you want to curl up and hide in shame, when you should be out there CELEBRATING the awesomeness that is you. You are depriving the world of who you are by allowing him to have so much power over the way you feel about yourself.
It may take a while to ease the hurt of feeling betrayed, but you are going to be so happy when you open your eyes and see what is around you. Do not judge people by their appearances, do not allow the "I can'ts" get in your way. Step outside, take a deep breath, and follow your heart.
You are awesome. You are smart. You are funny. You deserve to go far. The company you work for? Yeah, they aren't going to be around for much longer. Trust your instincts when you start to feel like things are going South fast. But, don't leave just yet. You have a very important person to meet before you find another job. The one you have been waiting your entire life for, but had no idea what it was that you needed. You will realize that the kindness in one person's eyes is sincere, he has no ulterior motives, and he is going to change your world. You will find your soul mate, but it is not who you expect, so keep kissing those frogs. You will realize when you have gone on your last first date, you will KNOW that night that this is the person you are supposed to spend the rest of your days with.
You will thank me for this in ten years.
Truly yours, with unconditional love now and forever,
The 42 Year Old You.
PS - please do not throw away that gorgeous black chenille sofa. It is awesome, and someone is going to tell you to toss it. Don't because you will regret it for years to come.
HE. DOES. NOT. LOVE. YOU.
He lied to you when he said that he was separated from his wife.
He left you crying and writhing in pain when you broke your ankle. To go to his WIFE.
He lied to you when he said you were the only one for him.
He never once spent a holiday with you, and he is the reason you hate your birthday.
He lied to you when he said he bought you a ring.
He cried poor mouth, but somehow bought himself some really nice things. WITH HIS WIFE'S MONEY.
He lied to you when he begged you not to move 40 miles away.
And then bought a house WITH HIS WIFE A WEEK LATER.
He is a liar. Your life is going to be so much happier without his emotional cancer in your life. He does not make you feel good about yourself. He makes you want to curl up and hide in shame, when you should be out there CELEBRATING the awesomeness that is you. You are depriving the world of who you are by allowing him to have so much power over the way you feel about yourself.
It may take a while to ease the hurt of feeling betrayed, but you are going to be so happy when you open your eyes and see what is around you. Do not judge people by their appearances, do not allow the "I can'ts" get in your way. Step outside, take a deep breath, and follow your heart.
You are awesome. You are smart. You are funny. You deserve to go far. The company you work for? Yeah, they aren't going to be around for much longer. Trust your instincts when you start to feel like things are going South fast. But, don't leave just yet. You have a very important person to meet before you find another job. The one you have been waiting your entire life for, but had no idea what it was that you needed. You will realize that the kindness in one person's eyes is sincere, he has no ulterior motives, and he is going to change your world. You will find your soul mate, but it is not who you expect, so keep kissing those frogs. You will realize when you have gone on your last first date, you will KNOW that night that this is the person you are supposed to spend the rest of your days with.
You will thank me for this in ten years.
Truly yours, with unconditional love now and forever,
The 42 Year Old You.
PS - please do not throw away that gorgeous black chenille sofa. It is awesome, and someone is going to tell you to toss it. Don't because you will regret it for years to come.
Writing assignment
If you haven't heard of Brittany Gibbons, you are missing out.
She is funny, smart, and one of the most authentic people you will ever meet, read, or hear about.
She's the woman who had the brass ones to wear a bikini and have it posted on the Huffington Post. She's normal, she's a mom, and she inspires a lot of women to be more than we have allowed ourselves to be.
Yesterday, she put us to task. She invited us to participate in a writing project, and it made me realize that the one thing that I am truly passionate about is writing. So, I accepted the challenge.
http://brittanyherself.com/aside/august-writing-prompts/
Feel free to join in! Some of the assignments will be a challenge, no doubt, but it is just the right nudge I needed.
She is funny, smart, and one of the most authentic people you will ever meet, read, or hear about.
She's the woman who had the brass ones to wear a bikini and have it posted on the Huffington Post. She's normal, she's a mom, and she inspires a lot of women to be more than we have allowed ourselves to be.
Yesterday, she put us to task. She invited us to participate in a writing project, and it made me realize that the one thing that I am truly passionate about is writing. So, I accepted the challenge.
http://brittanyherself.com/aside/august-writing-prompts/
Feel free to join in! Some of the assignments will be a challenge, no doubt, but it is just the right nudge I needed.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
reality check...
i have been very open in the past about my health. a few years ago, i went to a gastroenterologist because i was having some bleeding issues, which i thought was nothing to be concerned about until i had a sigmoidoscopy and i saw a big, angry thing growing inside of my body. the doctor said "well, i don't like that..." and i was yelling "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" turns out, it was what they call an adenoma growing inside my lower colon and they had to do a colonoscopy to remove it, and found 8 more "friends" growing further up in my colon.
at 37 years old, it's highly unusual to have this kind of "activity" going on in your digestive tract so the doctors immediately took interest in my case. i have to go every year for a colonoscopy and they find stuff, remove it, and that's that. but they want to know WHY it's happening, and i guess what they should expect going forward. me, too, docs. ME, too.
yesterday, i had a consultation with a practice at Mass General who specializes in genetic gastro-intestinal cancers. we talked about my family history, we talked about my symptom history, and we talked about what to expect with the testing they are going to do (they took about a gallon of my blood and are sending it to some special laboratory in California to test for genetic markers and really complicated stuff). but that wasn't what struck me yesterday.
you see? i don't have cancer. yet. so i don't need to worry about my life. YET.
but as i was sitting in the waiting area, there was a couple - maybe in their 60s, also sitting there. the husband was stone silent, looking forward and staring at a painting of Motif #2 and the wife was just stroking his hand.
about five minutes passed, and a woman (doctor?) came out from the office area, found them, and started to talk. the man looked up and said "it's my life. i need to do what's best," and the doctor started to talk about chemotherapy protocol, how often he would need to come in for chemo, and how often he needed to visit with the doctor in between rounds of chemo.
i sat there, absolutely stunned that they were having this intensely personal conversation right in front of me, but then i realized. the man had just been given a pretty bad diagnosis, and had walked out of the doctor's office. his wife coaxed him to sit down in the waiting area to "cool off" a bit, and that was where the doctor found them. rather than try to convince him to go back to that unpleasant room where he had just been given some bad news, she made a judgment call to talk to him out there in a non-threatening environment.
i sat there, wanting to cry for this man and his wife. what they are going through? is exactly what i fear most. i do not want to have to have this kind of a conversation with a doctor, and i especially do not want to have this kind of a conversation with my husband. it was like i was meant to witness this whole interchange, because i suddenly felt like i HAD to find out what's going on inside my body so that i can do what i can PROACTIVELY to fight. there is a strong possibility that i have what is called Lynch Syndrome, which is a genetic defect (thanks to both my maternal and paternal genes) that causes colon, ovarian, uterine, and stomach cancers in combination with one another.
what does that mean? i am going to be under a microscope. i would rather face the unknown with as much armour as i can summon - and awareness and early detection is really my only hope. colon cancer is one of the most curable forms of cancer, when it is CAUGHT EARLY. i will eat my broccoli (mother nature's little scrub brushes), i will not smoke, and i will drink wine ONLY in moderation. i will not eat foods that are high in fat, and i will avoid red meat. these are what *I* can do to try to prevent what may be the inevitable. i won't know for another several months what the genetic testing shows, but... my guardian angel? your message was received LOUD and CLEAR. thank you, grammy. i know it's you. i love you.
at 37 years old, it's highly unusual to have this kind of "activity" going on in your digestive tract so the doctors immediately took interest in my case. i have to go every year for a colonoscopy and they find stuff, remove it, and that's that. but they want to know WHY it's happening, and i guess what they should expect going forward. me, too, docs. ME, too.
yesterday, i had a consultation with a practice at Mass General who specializes in genetic gastro-intestinal cancers. we talked about my family history, we talked about my symptom history, and we talked about what to expect with the testing they are going to do (they took about a gallon of my blood and are sending it to some special laboratory in California to test for genetic markers and really complicated stuff). but that wasn't what struck me yesterday.
you see? i don't have cancer. yet. so i don't need to worry about my life. YET.
but as i was sitting in the waiting area, there was a couple - maybe in their 60s, also sitting there. the husband was stone silent, looking forward and staring at a painting of Motif #2 and the wife was just stroking his hand.
about five minutes passed, and a woman (doctor?) came out from the office area, found them, and started to talk. the man looked up and said "it's my life. i need to do what's best," and the doctor started to talk about chemotherapy protocol, how often he would need to come in for chemo, and how often he needed to visit with the doctor in between rounds of chemo.
i sat there, absolutely stunned that they were having this intensely personal conversation right in front of me, but then i realized. the man had just been given a pretty bad diagnosis, and had walked out of the doctor's office. his wife coaxed him to sit down in the waiting area to "cool off" a bit, and that was where the doctor found them. rather than try to convince him to go back to that unpleasant room where he had just been given some bad news, she made a judgment call to talk to him out there in a non-threatening environment.
i sat there, wanting to cry for this man and his wife. what they are going through? is exactly what i fear most. i do not want to have to have this kind of a conversation with a doctor, and i especially do not want to have this kind of a conversation with my husband. it was like i was meant to witness this whole interchange, because i suddenly felt like i HAD to find out what's going on inside my body so that i can do what i can PROACTIVELY to fight. there is a strong possibility that i have what is called Lynch Syndrome, which is a genetic defect (thanks to both my maternal and paternal genes) that causes colon, ovarian, uterine, and stomach cancers in combination with one another.
what does that mean? i am going to be under a microscope. i would rather face the unknown with as much armour as i can summon - and awareness and early detection is really my only hope. colon cancer is one of the most curable forms of cancer, when it is CAUGHT EARLY. i will eat my broccoli (mother nature's little scrub brushes), i will not smoke, and i will drink wine ONLY in moderation. i will not eat foods that are high in fat, and i will avoid red meat. these are what *I* can do to try to prevent what may be the inevitable. i won't know for another several months what the genetic testing shows, but... my guardian angel? your message was received LOUD and CLEAR. thank you, grammy. i know it's you. i love you.
Friday, June 1, 2012
from the outside, looking in
Have you ever had a friend who you look at, and you see how amazing, intelligent, and put together she is? But you know that she doesn't see the awesomeness that is what everyone else sees? The one who no matter what you tell her, she constantly deflects your compliments?
You say: "You look beautiful in that dress, darlin'!"
She responds: "No, I don't. I look fat."
You tell her: "That haircut really flatters your gorgeous cheekbones."
She claims: "Oh, my husband/boyfriend hates it."
You proclaim: "I wish I had your confidence when I walk into a room."
She says: "I wish he would pay more attention to me."
She's not a Debbie Downer, she is all of us. She is what everyone thinks she is when they look in the mirror. She doesn't mean to be negative, but she cannot ever look at herself in a positive light no matter what you tell her. We've all done it, we've all been there, but none of us have any idea how it affects our friends.
When you pay someone a compliment, you aren't being patronizing - you are telling someone sincerely that you admire them. When they respond with a negative, doubting comment... it makes you feel aggravated, like you have no credibility and maybe leaves you a little bit (or a lot) frustrated. Think about it.
When you tell someone that their dress makes them look beautiful and they respond with "I look fat," doesn't it make you second guess yourself? Like you're not being truthful because your friend doesn't believe anything you tell them? It sucks, doesn't it? Sure does. One of my achilles' heels is when someone questions my credibility (another is my intelligence, but that's a post for another time).
The irony here? I am guilty of deflecting ALL. THE. TIME. I don't even hear myself say it, but I am so used to beating the shit out of myself with my own inner dialogue, that when someone says something NICE to me, they can't possibly be telling me the truth. Now, I totally understand how it feels when you are trying to be encouraging to a friend and they constantly respond with doubtful, negative, bone-crushingly frustrating retorts.
I attention to myself when being paid a compliment, and if I can't think of something nice or positive to say (or even "thank you"), I will simply SMILE. Not saying anything when someone pays you a compliment is a hell of a lot nicer (to them) than deflecting it. Nobody wants to hear how much you hate yourself after they have just told you that you admire something about them! So SMILE. Eventually, those nice words they are saying to you? They become easier to accept, and something miraculous may happen. You may actually start BELIEVING the compliments.
TRUST ME.
Fuck the haters. You don't need to listen to those voices in your head, or even those in real life, who have nothing positive to say about yourself. YOU need to love who you are, and YOU are the only person who has control over how you feel. When you rely on someone else to provide you with value, you lose who you are. DON'T ever give someone else that kind of power over you.
You ARE amazing. You ARE intelligent. You ARE beautiful.
You're WELcome. <3
You say: "You look beautiful in that dress, darlin'!"
She responds: "No, I don't. I look fat."
You tell her: "That haircut really flatters your gorgeous cheekbones."
She claims: "Oh, my husband/boyfriend hates it."
You proclaim: "I wish I had your confidence when I walk into a room."
She says: "I wish he would pay more attention to me."
She's not a Debbie Downer, she is all of us. She is what everyone thinks she is when they look in the mirror. She doesn't mean to be negative, but she cannot ever look at herself in a positive light no matter what you tell her. We've all done it, we've all been there, but none of us have any idea how it affects our friends.
When you pay someone a compliment, you aren't being patronizing - you are telling someone sincerely that you admire them. When they respond with a negative, doubting comment... it makes you feel aggravated, like you have no credibility and maybe leaves you a little bit (or a lot) frustrated. Think about it.
When you tell someone that their dress makes them look beautiful and they respond with "I look fat," doesn't it make you second guess yourself? Like you're not being truthful because your friend doesn't believe anything you tell them? It sucks, doesn't it? Sure does. One of my achilles' heels is when someone questions my credibility (another is my intelligence, but that's a post for another time).
The irony here? I am guilty of deflecting ALL. THE. TIME. I don't even hear myself say it, but I am so used to beating the shit out of myself with my own inner dialogue, that when someone says something NICE to me, they can't possibly be telling me the truth. Now, I totally understand how it feels when you are trying to be encouraging to a friend and they constantly respond with doubtful, negative, bone-crushingly frustrating retorts.
I attention to myself when being paid a compliment, and if I can't think of something nice or positive to say (or even "thank you"), I will simply SMILE. Not saying anything when someone pays you a compliment is a hell of a lot nicer (to them) than deflecting it. Nobody wants to hear how much you hate yourself after they have just told you that you admire something about them! So SMILE. Eventually, those nice words they are saying to you? They become easier to accept, and something miraculous may happen. You may actually start BELIEVING the compliments.
TRUST ME.
Fuck the haters. You don't need to listen to those voices in your head, or even those in real life, who have nothing positive to say about yourself. YOU need to love who you are, and YOU are the only person who has control over how you feel. When you rely on someone else to provide you with value, you lose who you are. DON'T ever give someone else that kind of power over you.
You ARE amazing. You ARE intelligent. You ARE beautiful.
You're WELcome. <3
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