Feeling Grateful

When I turned sixteen my parents gave me a surprise party.  And no, it was not one of those elaborate spectacles that you see on “reality” television programs with the spoiled teenagers and the parents who have more money than sense. It was however a pivotal time in my young life because of the fact that all these people, friends and family both, had took the time to come to a party for me. It had never occurred to me that so many people actually cared enough about me to congregate in my honor. It was incredibly moving and extremely overwhelming.

And now, I once again find myself touched and overwhelmed by the show of love from the people in my life.  It’s funny how I sometimes trick myself into thinking I am alone, all by myself in a big scary world. But the thing is nothing could be farther from the truth. Every time I begin a new chapter in my life, I am moved to discover how many people are willing to help me fill the pages. And I am also surprised about how willing I am to help fill the pages of the chapters of others. It’s a strange feeling, but good too, to know that I am part of a community of people. My life is intertwined with others, and that is huge.

Perhaps it comes down to the fact that I still struggle with feelings of worthiness. Maybe that is why I am consistently surprised that so many good people would want me to be apart of their life. I can’t help but feel like that little sixteen year old when I realize, to my amazement, that I have friends and family who are willing to encourage me as I embark on new adventures and new transitions.

Slowly but surely however, I am learning not to overanalyze these things, but instead to simply be grateful for the wonderful people who choose to let their paths intersect with mine. And that is a beautiful thing.

Life in the Not So Fast Lane

As a born and raised southern Californian, it is generally assumed that wanting to be behind the wheel of a car is built into your DNA. I, coming from a long line of auto-mechanics and car enthusiasts, would seem even more pre-disposed to being ecstatic about driving.

However, one of my dear friends has nicknamed me her favorite little anomaly. And my fear of driving, once again, proves this title to be a well suited one.

It’s not that I don’t drive. In fact when I am in my small hometown, I drive quite a bit. Of course the place of my birth is a somewhat rural, and not heavily populated, which makes driving significantly less anxiety provoking. I also drove a lot when I was lived in Colorado, on highly congested freeways no less. I did it, because I had to, and I did it well. I am not a bad driver, just a nervous one, and that is possibly even more dangerous. The fear of driving could probably be traced back to the fateful day I totaled my mother’s car when I was seventeen. Though I was scared to drive even before that, so it could also be argued that I would not have got in the accident at all had I not been so nervous behind the wheel in the first place. I don’t know it could be on of those a chicken first vs. Egg first situation that we will never be able to solve.

After I moved home from Colorado I reverted back to my old ways of avoiding the freeways, because well, I could. There was no a huge needs to get on the freeway if I did not want to. But the thing about it is, I allowed myself to reinforce my fear. Reinforcing ones fear only makes it swell and grow until it becomes a super big monster to deal with.

And that is exactly what happened. Now I am living car-less in a big city. And though it is not impossible to get around, it does pose some challenges. Especially when compounded with my anxiety regarding using mass transit.

But I detest living in fear. I also detest always leaning on others for rides. Dependency can play head trips on a person and makes one feel less-than. There has been many times where I opted out of things because I did not want to find a ride and inconvenience someone. Of course what I was opting out of was usually something for another friend that I felt horrible I was missing. My friends are important to me, and I do want to show my support when I can, but I also don’t want to rely so much on them… so that is the double edge sword I have been living with for years.

I recently saw a news story about a group of women who lived in a country where it was illegal for them to drive. There was a day that they decided to drive as a sign of protest. This struck me. One because they were being denied a privilege and freedom that I seem so unwilling to partake in, but also because well, I was living under a fake law in my head that was keeping me from moving forward.

So this summer I decided to make a move, albeit a small one, in the direction to of my independence. For the first time since I was in high school, I drove on the stretch of freeway that links my hometown and the next city over. I did fine, though I was a bit frazzled by the end of it. I was only on the freeway for thirty minutes, a mere baby step. But baby steps can be momentous things, especially when they are the first steps. It was just one more push out of the very narrow parameters of my personal comfort zone. My hope is the more I push myself the easier it will become over time, and that is definitely worth the discomfort right now.

                                                                              

A Chunk of Life in a List

In a little over a month I will be starting a new decade. I am not freaking out as much as I thought I would considering that I am forever leaving my twenties. But that said, being on the cusp of the new age has made me rather reflective. So I decided to do a sum up of pivotal, life changing, or worth mentioning events that have defined this chapter of my (relatively speaking) young life.  They are in no particular order, and are not sorted by relevance; I will leave it to you dear readers to interpret the importance of events for yourselves.

My uncle gave me a car (RIP sweet Sadie)

I worked as a nanny in Colorado

I was around for my grandma T’s and Grandpa Glenn’s last days

Was in the room when my Grandpa breathed his last breath.

I discovered I liked sweet potatoes

Perhaps I did not conquer my demons I did however look more than a few of them in the eye, and acknowledged their existence (which I hear is half the battle)

I visited my Grandma Chris when she lived in Lincoln Nebraska.

I stood up in two weddings once as a bridesmaid (for one of my dear friends) and once as a maid of honor (for my sister) for women that I love dearly.

Traveled to San Fransico, San Lois Obispo, Washington D.C. and Boston  (all at different times)

Took some Modern Dance classes.

Fell in love.

Survived my first broken heart.

Learned how to breath through a panic attack.

Made lots of mistakes.

Worked a job where I cleaned tanning beds.

Played parts as an actor that was against type.

Earned an associates degree.

Won some awards for writing.

Got type cast as an actor.

Earned a bachelor degree.

Started a short-lived theatre troupe.

Discovered I was not an actor.

Realized my heart was in writing.

Took an oil painting class.

Made more than one drunken text.

Burned some bridges (hopefully learned something in the process)

Made some friends that are total lifetime keepers.

Met some people who are not keepers.

Gained nearly a hundred pounds.

Lost over sixty of those pounds.

Became a Vegetarian.

Worked as a Substitute teacher.

Realized that even though I was not that much older than them, teenagers no longer thought I was cool.

Decided to switch to being a pescatarian.

Discovered that I could like whatever music I wanted to like without caring what my peers thought of me.

Kissed more than my share of frogs (none of whom turned to princes but lets face it,   

                                                              sometimes frogs are good kissers)

Started graduate school.

Learned to like myself better than when I was nineteen.

So there you have it, my twenties in a brief list format.  I hear that our self-awareness deepens in our thirties and we are more settled and comfortable in our skin. I hope that is true!

                                                                              

Body Talk

So this is not a new topic.  it’s one that has been addressed by many a smart person, and will continue to be addressed as long as the problem persists. That said I wanted to put in my two scents in, because it is something I struggle with myself a great deal.  

It’s the whole body image thing. And perhaps this has been exacerbated by the fact that I just had my wisdom teeth pulled and my face has swollen three sizes, and because of this I now have a greater appreciation for how my face looks when it’s not post surgery puffy.  

Now I know there are men who struggle with this issue too, and I respect that, but for the purposes of this I will speak only from the female perspective, or more specifically my own personal perspective, cause frankly I can’t speak for anyone else.

This is something I have struggled with for many years. After all I grew up next to a sister who would get stopped on the street by strangers so they could ask her “has anyone ever told you that you look like Julie Roberts?”

I, on the other hand, was a short chubby kid with braces who had a great fondness of overalls (yeah I have no explanation for this, but I had many pairs and I loved them)

I honestly think I deserve a metal for surviving puberty next to my sister.

Of course I have come a long way from that teenager who thought that the reflection in the mirror was that of someone who was monstrous and grotesque. I look at myself in a more realistic way, which is good. But that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle.

The truth is I find myself walking a very precarious line because of my situation. I am a person who struggles with weight, not as an esthetic thing, but as a health issue thing. As I have discussed before there is a lot of health issues that run in my family that the access weight compound. Honestly I do best when I don’t obsess on the numbers on the scale or the size of jeans, but rather when I choose to take care of body to make it FEEL better than LOOK better (and by look better I mean make it fit into some subjective idea of what it is suppose to look like according to popular culture)

The thing is this causes a battle in my head. Because honestly I don’t believe everyone has to be a size two to be healthy. I also believe that people who don’t fit into the very narrow idea of beauty are treated unfairly by society. When we look at someone who is morbidly obese it is so easy to judge that person and to see there body as outward sign of there weakness of will, or some sort of lack of morality. And this is an injustice for sure. We have no idea that journey that person has traveled or what their life has looked like.

In the past few years I have gained a greater appreciation for my body. I appreciate that fact that it can walk be up stares, it can hold people I love, and it can dance. And because if this appreciation, I want to honor my body by feeding it well, and showing my love by taking care of it.

But my body does not look like the ones in the magazines. It never will. And I am learning to be okay with that. But sometimes there is a war in my head because of all the images we are fed.

I particularly have a problem with the current trend in music. Now I love a good dirty party song from time to time don’t get me wrong.  But it seems like now a day everyone is trying to out trump each other on how overtly sexual they can be, and how far they can objectify the female body (male and female artists both do this).  It makes me sad.

 I also read an article recently that discussed how a large group of men said they would leave their partner if the gained weight. Now I am not sure how accurate this article was, or how many men (or what type of men they surveyed) But it did make me feel kind of sick. Now I’m not stupid, I know that physical attraction is important in a romantic relationship, but in a real relationship, it should not be the only component. For longevity purposes you better be attracted to who the person is, or it isn’t going to last. To me, if you love them only if the stay a certain size, this is a sign of conditional love, and quite frankly conditional love is not really love at all.

I don’t know if it’s worse than it use to be, I know that women have always been objectified, and that pop culture has always celebrated the superficial. All I know is I think it is time we reclaim our connection with our bodies, and celebrate beauty in individuality. I think it is time we start teaching young girls that who they are, what they think, and what the do is what makes them special, unique and lovely.

I guess I had a lot to say on the subject of positive vs. negative body image, because I am still fighting with it in myself. Some days that insecure teenage girl I was is far closer on my heels than I wish she were.  But I guess that’s the whole thing about being in transit, the only way you can see how far you have come is to acknowledge where you have been.

Some Days

There are days when I don’t like myself very much.

I don’t mean the low self esteem days (although I have those too).  I mean the days that I don’t like the choices I make.  Sometimes I take a good hard look at the person I am and it makes me angry, and disappointed, and I want to be somebody else.  The problem is you can’t take a vacation from you. And if you try to, it usually gets you into more trouble than it’s worth.

There are times when I truly wish I were better than I am. I wish that I were kinder to those around me. More grateful for the things that I have been given in my life. I also wish that I were more responsible, that I would make choices that are good for me, and that don’t hurt those around me.   

But I guess the thing about this wish list it I have the power to make it come true. I can choose to be better the aspects of my life that I find less than stellar.

As for the days, like today, that I am not even close to being all that I can be, well I guess, I just have to move forward, and take days like this as learning experiences.