What I need to remember while at my 9-5 this week..
When things aren’t going the way you thought they would –
it’s easy to think you made a wrong turn somewhere.
But what if:
What if all the turns you made
were the right turns.
Even the ones you
still regret taking.
What if, every single one was the right turn for you to take?
What if they were all right?
…That would make you alright.
…That would mean your exactly where you supposed to be.
If that were true,
then you’d have to do things like forgive yourself.
Because you couldn’t regret anything.
It would turn all your regrets into purposeful events.
Regardless how much they hurt you,
or someone else.
No matter how hard they made you fall.
Or what unpleasant place they took you to.
You would have to accept each one as part of the experience.
Part of the journey.
Part of you.
You would have to love yourself not in-spite of your regrets,
but because of them.
Because your regrets were as vital to your life,
as all the good moments were.
Without one, you could not have the other.
Make peace with all of life,
not because you have to –
but because you choose to.
Because you realize there is value in the freedom of knowing –
that it is all an equal part of the journey.
It is at the deepest part of me, that I often find myself the most frustrated.
There are certain things, that I never seem to succeed at.
No matter how much I tell myself that, “this time is different.”
I am so good at starting things… good at planning…good at seeing what I want and taking the initial steps to make it happen. The issue lies – in sticking with it.
I don’t remember the last time I stuck with anything.
I just wanted this time to be different.
Writing this book was supposed to be different. Writing this book was supposed to be the thing that finally broke through my persistent procrastination. The thing that was so life-altering important to me, that giving up on it would not even be an option.
But I can already feel myself doing it.
I wrote my 1,667 words for the first two days. Two days – and since then? I’ve managed a total of maybe three days where i’ve written. And it’s been word-vomit at best.
So here I sit, at day 12 of my novel-writing… with 8,327 words. How many am I supposed to have by now? 20,004.
Twenty Thousand words. I am not even half way to being where I need to be.
Do you know what that makes me feel like?
A total and complete failure.
And I should know the feeling well. This is probably the thousandth thing that i’ve started… and not finished. Not even mildly gotten half way through before I called it quits.
I want to say that I quit at trying.
I want to say, why do I even allow myself to think I can complete something.
I want to tell myself that this dream, just like every other one i’ve had – is pointless, stupid, and going to go nowhere.
I want to believe the voices in my head that tell me i’m not worth the effort it would take to finish this.
But I can’t.
Unfortunately with age,
I’ve grown to respect and care for myself
too much to believe such non-sense.
I know that I’m worth a life well-lived.
I know that my dreams are immeasurably valuable.
I know that one day, regardless all my short-comings
I will both experience and achieve the greatness I am destined for.
I’ve just realized,
that had I not even attempted to write this book
to follow this dream…
That by day 12 of November – I’d have written zero words.
I may not be living up to my predetermined standards,
but in just attempting to attempt something
I’ve done more than ever would have.
And for now
that is enough
to make me realize
that I am not a failure.
in trying alone
I’m already succeeding.
I want to be in touch with my own life.
I struggle, at times,
to feel like I’m actually living my own life.
I’m often so focused on the next hour, the next day, the next weekend…
that it all comes and goes by so fast,
I’m left standing there – wondering where it went.
I just want to be so in love with every moment,
that is causes me to never again feel like, “where’d it go?”
Why does it always take us util it’s too late to realize how good we had in in the first place?
To realize that we had it so good in the life that we had – the person we were back then…
I’m always so focused on the life I want to be living… the person I want to be…
that I let my days fly by without being a part of them – always wishing for the next chapter… the more improved, better ‘me’.
Maybe this chapter is supposed to be amazing,
Maybe this day – even if it feels insignificant – is supposed to be the best day of my life.
Maybe I’m supposed to love who I am now, before I try to “improve” myself.
I would like to take a moment, to write a letter to myself (and all of you.)
You are amazing and so brave. You wake up each day, trying so hard to improve on the cards you’ve been dealt. Sometimes, you don’t feel like it’s fair that everyone else seems to be doing so much better at life than you – and then you feel like a failure.
I truely wish you would see things as I see them. See you as I see you.
You are beautiful. You are more than blessed.
You’ve been given gifts and talents, that were only destined for your hands and your heart.
You are loved. Even more than you will ever be able to comprehend.
If I could reach into your heart and hold it – I would infuse into it the love that I have for you. I would show you how valuable your dreams are, how powerful you are, and how truely great you have been designed.
I know sometimes, you see yourself as a screw up – a failure – deserving of no more than the shitty way you feel now. But all of that is so un-true… the way I see you looks more like this:
- Perfect, exactly as you are. In this moment.
With all your flaws and faults considered – still beautiful and perfectly you.
And I would hope that everyday, regardless how many things you think you need to achieve in order to be someone your proud of, I would hope with every bit of myself that you would truely feel how it is that I see you.
I want you to wake up tomorrow morning, walk over to the mirror and take a moment, with your eyes closed, to remember the list of things I have written above. Give them time to sink into your heart. Imagine those words flowing into your skin, absorbing into every ounce of who you are… Let the fill you with every ounce of love I have for you. Live in that moment – realizing all the greatness that flows through you.
Let the words sink in.
And then, when your ready – open your eyes… and see yourself through the eyes of love: beautiful – exactly as you are.
–God (and H)
I want to wake up to that tomorrow.
I want to allow them to fill up every ounce of who I am –
I want to believe them so fully, that no one can make me feel otherwise.
I hope that you can feel them too.
Find your strength in who you are.
I hope that you see yourself, exactly as you are.
And love it.
I almost prefer to be considered “odd.” Odd means that according to how the majority of other’s live – you are different. In my book, to be considered different is a compliment. I wish more of the world would allow themselves to be different. No two people are the same, yet we strive so hard to be just like everyone else. We try to fit into this bigger idea. We conform to physical, financial and social standards (among others.)
I don’t want force myself to fit into a pre-determined idea of how I should live, based on society’s norms.
I find myself getting very bothered by many of the “normal” things people are “supposed” to be okay with. Here are a few social-norms that upset me:
- Getting vaccinated/ Getting a medicinal diagnoses for everything.
- Living under the US political system and all it’s jacked-up, dishonest ridiculousness.
- Food packaging waste and how completely unnecessary it is.
- Processed food.
- Poisoning crops to produce higher yields.
- The nonsensical, mass amounts of makeup/ undergarments/ beauty products women are expected to use. (And some men that may feel the same.)
- Gender roles in relationships.
- Relationship roles within society. (If I’m not married and don’t have a baby at the age of 27, it is just not okay with me for people to feel free to tell me I should.)
- The cycle of creating bills for yourself, only to work the rest of your life to pay them off. When really, many of them were things you didn’t need in the first place. (i.e. phone, insurance, internet, credit cards, etc…)
- The US’s system of business – rewarding the lazy and making it easy for the rich to grow richer, while the hard-working, honest but albeit poorer individuals get further and further into the never-ending spiral of debt.
- Encouraging people to ‘follow the herd blindly’ instead of encouraging thinking for one’s self.
- (enough said)
- Okay not enough said, also: The CRAZY obsession society has with celebrities and social media.
- People not giving a damn about the very planet they owe their ability to be alive to.
- People that are different from the above standards being regarded as crazy.
Granted, I still take part in MANY of these things – but every time I do I feel awful about it. Like the inside of me just feels wrong. (Especially the “eating processed food”, “not taking care of the planet”, “credit-card debt”, and “social media craze” ones. BUT I am getting better at recognizing the things that bother me. And even more so, recognizing that even though I feel nuts when I get bothered by them – I need to let them go from my life anyway.
. . .
This has been especially true with eating processed food. Every time I think about how messed up and biologically unsound it is to eat the crap we call food – I start to feel a little nuts. I mean, everyone is doing it. You literally cannot go ONE day without seeing, hearing about, tasting, or smelling something that is a form of processed food. Most days, thanks to the media and the crazy amounts of ads we see in a day – you’ll be bombarded with it. In an average day – most people will see anywhere from 4,000-10,000 ads in a day. [Check this article out for more on that: http://www.redcrowmarketing.com/2015/09/10/many-ads-see-one-day] I would venture to guess at least half of them are for “food” products.
So, when I start to think that maybe, just maybe, that ‘stuff’ really isn’t considered ‘food’ – there is bound to be some part of me telling myself that I’m wrong. Why do I feel like I’m crazy when I start to question food? Simple: We’re programmed to not question. If we blindly listen to what we are told to eat – we completely hand over the right to control our own lives.
Allow me to lay out a scenario for you:
Your 30, you’ve eaten nothing but pre-packaged, processed food as the majority of your diet. Why? Because it’s what you were given as a child and saw everyone else eating as an adult. You’ve never bothered to learn how to cook your own food. Why? Because you didn’t have to. You can “simply microwave” almost anything these days and eat practically “gourmet” food. You start to feel sick, which is not a new feeling – you suffer from indigestion and other ailments fairly regularly. You go to the doctor. They might ask about your diet, but end up telling you that a new medicine is the answer to your ailments. You take it, it fixes the situation temporarily and you continue to go about your life. All the while you never feel quite “right” but you don’t question it because you’re only doing the same thing everyone does – so it cannot be your diet that is the problem. Eventually you get really sick, something that either calls for surgery or radiation therapy. You’re on medicine for the rest of your life to “treat” the problem. You now spend all your waking time, energy, brain-power, and money on being sick and trying to get by. You have so many medical bills that you’ll never be able to stop working. Ever.
This whole viscous cycle started with the food you put in your mouth. The food they told you to put in your mouth. The “food” they encouraged you every day, with their 4,000 ads minimum – to put in your mouth.
This situation is reality for toooooo many.
And the bat-shit-crazy part about all of it? We are STILL not seeing the truth. We’re told its genetics, or hormonal imbalances, or thyroid diseases, or whatever the hell else they want to call it so you don’t see the truth. You’re sick because of what you eat.
They cannot control you, if they cannot be in control of the “food” you shove down your throat:
-If they cannot feed you, they cannot get you sick.
-If they cannot get you sick, you won’t pay them hundreds of thousands of dollars (on top of the taxes you already pay.)
-If you don’t need to pay them hundreds of thousands of dollars, they go broke.
-If they go broke, ‘the system’ collapses on itself.
-If the system collapses on itself, they don’t control you anymore.
Do you see what I’m saying yet? Where I am going with all of this……
The system does not want you to think for yourself. They want you to feel crazy for even thinking about doing so. Most importantly, they want you to be so distracted with everything else they are putting in front of you every day – that you have no time or energy left to see what they are really up to.
Because if you knew they were trying to turn you into sheep – you’d never be a sheep.
A cash-turning, mindless product they can own.
And when they own you – they win.
And it all starts with food. Which is why I get so bothered by the food that I eat – that we all eat. Which is why I cringe when I see someone with a cart FULL of processed food in front of me in line at the grocery store. I want to reach out and tell them “Nooooo! You deserve better, come with me – I’ll show you the real food.” But that just might be crazy. (would it though?)
Don’t get me wrong. I eat junk food. I had a bag of chips for breakfast with my coffee. ALL of it was processed. BUT my chips were made from beans. GMO-free black beans. It’s the little progress that I’ve made that matters. Don’t expect to be changed overnight. ALL I AM ASKING: is that you think.
Think about your life. Think about how you are living it. Just think for yourself & learn to accept what you find to be true, as truth. Allow what you know to go by the wayside – and allow your mind to be free from social conventions.
Free your mind – free your self – free your life.
Feel free to be different.
We do not value inner peace enough as a society. We create endless examples of what it looks like to have inner turmoil. And then we glorify them. We decide to medicate until were numb, instead of allowing ourselves to feel until were healed.
There are three things I have been
telling forcing myself to say out loud lately. I have been making it a point, to just stop. To stop doing whatever I am doing, whenever I feel myself getting worked up. Breathe – and repeat the following:
In this moment I am filled with peace.
In this moment I have joy.
In this moment I am free.
And it has forced me to realize something.
That no matter the outward circumstances-
in any moment I am completely free to be content within.
If we valued true happiness, half as much as we value any quick fix that can get us there, we would be a changed world.
The problem is, that it takes work. It takes hard work.
You have to take time to dive into yourself.
You have to dig into who you are and why you feel the way you do…
most of the time until it hurts.
You have to find your demons, and face them.. accept them.. and let them go.
You have to shed layers of pre-determined thought, and think for yourself.
You have to try, and fail, and try again until you start to see yourself in the mirror
instead of the clone that they’ve created you to be.
You have to allow your mind to think for it’s self.
You have to be willing to accept
the person you find within,
for whoever they are.
For me, some of the hardest things to accept have been things that I never would have thought I would struggle with.
I’ve fought long and hard (and still do at times) to accept the fact i’m bisexual. I’ve found it a never-ending battle to tell the voice in my head that tells me “no one cares” to shut the hell up. I’ve allowed so many years of trying to “fit-in” to mold me into something that I’m not – and it’s hard to tell the inner you that it’s okay to not be ‘her’ anymore. Ah, and my endless struggle with religion – my constant goal to learn what is truth and not simply take in what other’s tell you to believe.
In short, I’ve been allowing my mind to think for itself.
And holy shit has it been amazing.
I’ve found amazing interests that I would have probably been too afraid to act on.
I’ve seen beautiful bits of me that would have never seen daylight before.
I’ve realized dreams and passions that have made me feel more alive than I’ve ever been.
I’ve allowed myself the gift of being wrong.
I’ve allowed myself to take all I was spoon-fed in life,
and reject it.
Some of it has stayed. I still believe in God with all my being… and I still think love is the most important thing in life..
Allowing yourself to be who you are, does not mean you lose yourself – it means you find yourself… in all the amazing, natural beauty you were created to be.
I’m allowing me to be me.
I’ve stopped trying to create who I want to be.
I’ve taken the fear of being ‘wrong’ out of the picture.
I am allowing myself to be exactly as I am.
And I wish the same for you.
I would love to share advice on what’s helped me, find “me”.. but I know no two paths are the same.
I just want you to stop in this moment and know that whatever your feeling, whatever your thinking, whatever is inside you… is okay. You are as you should be.
The hardest part is not to be your true self (that’s the best part), the hardest part is finding your true self.
Because you have to let go of the outer-layers that are blocking ‘you’ out.
And most of the time, those are layers that we’ve put up ourselves.
Layers that have been built to keep others out.
To protect us from something we fear deeply.
To shield us – from being seen.
You have to know:
that you are perfect and completely amazing–
exactly as you truly are.
I love you – whoever you are.
And I wish you would love your self.
The world needs more of us..
The Self-Embracers, the Joy-Seekers, the Happiness-Makers, the Peace-Creators.
I invite you,
to be you.
To some, the idea of “a loved one” brings to mind
a family member, a very close friend, or perhaps a lover.
The idea of losing this person is heart-breaking,
to some, it can mean the end of life as they knew it all together.
To me, that was exactly how it felt.
Though this love was not in human form,
it broke me all the same when it left.
My little love, my son, the closest companion I’d had since I was eight…
my everything. My cat, Latte.
He took my heart with him when he left.
He spent 18 long beautiful years on this earth,
until one day when I realized he just wasn’t the same anymore.
His gait had gotten more stiff, his leap on to the couch- more cautious.
His food bowl went mostly untouched. And with each day I could feel more
and more of his fragile little frame protruding through his fur.
He was sick for a long time.
I just thought he was getting old,
beginning the process of aging like anyone with his amount of years would.
But one day, after he’d developed a sore around his eye that looked
rather unpleasant, I decided it was time to take him in to the doctor.
I made the appointment without too much thought,
I was actually a little excited to have a professional give him a look-over at his age. Someone who could tell me a little more about what I could do
to make him comfortable in his last couple years.
Latte was nervous. He’d not been to a vet in probably 10 years,
but I knew it was time to get some answers that would help his health.
The doctor looked him over, checked his eyes with a light, felt around
his little limbs and down his spine. He paused for a moment near his abdomen,
and then the check-up was complete.
He patted Latte on the head and leaned back against the counter to give me his thoughts.
I had my list of questions that I’d thought up that day written in my pocket-
my mind wandering to them now, ready to ask after he’d told me what we were going to do
for Latte’s eye.
“Without doing blood work, I can’t be sure – but I believe Latte has kidney failure.”
He kept talking, but I don’t think I heard all of what he said after that.
I was expecting, “We are going to give him antibiotics, he will be fine in a week.” Or, “we need to put him on a soft food only diet, since his getting older.”
I was not, in any way, thinking something inside of him was failing.
The doctor mentioned a daily injection of fluids, to hydrate him, to try to prolong his life.
He also mentioned simple things I could do to make him more comfortable, to try to get him by until I was ready… but ultimately, when I was ready, we would need to make
a point to discuss euthanasia.
I remember, in the days that followed, there was lots of tears and slowly, a loss of hope.
There was frantic research on my part to see what could be done.
Trips to the grocery store to get him Pedialite for his dehydration
and canned pumpkin to try to ease his painful constipation.
But after five days, five days of thinking just maybe I could get him by a little longer…
I looked into the eyes of my little love – and knew it was time.
I saw more pain in those little blue eyes than I’d ever seen before.
And I just couldn’t take it.
I went to work that morning, for all of a half an hour, before I had to go home
because I couldn’t keep from crying.
My heart was breaking for my best friend.
I rushed home to find him still on the couch where I’d left him,
he was sound asleep and I just kept looking at him.
I couldn’t comprehend that this was happening-
he’d been in my life so long that I didn’t know how to even picture my life without him.
I picked up my cell phone, walked into the bedroom – out of ear shot-
and made an appointment with the vet. His last appointment, the following day at 4:40.
The next morning Latte didn’t wake me up with obnoxious meowing like he normally did for breakfast. I walked out into the living room to find him still curled up on his couch.
For a moment, I hoped in the back of my mind that maybe he’d found peace that night.
That maybe today, I would not have to do the worse thing I could ever imagine having to do,
to bring the one I love most to his death.
As I watched him lying there, breath filled his stomach and I was filled with both
sincere relief and daunting terror for the day ahead.
He woke as I sat on the couch next to him.
He looked at me and we shared a moment of knowing.
We spent the whole day together. I left his side only to get coffee and go to the bathroom.
We laid on the couch, staring out the window and napping.
At one point I brought him outside.
It was a beautiful day, warm but a slight breeze.
We laid in the grass and sat in silence while we watched nature go by.
I told him, “I don’t know if I can do this for you, but I know I have to.
If you don’t want to, if your not ready… please let me know somehow.
Walk off into the wilderness, be free for the last days of your life.
Just let me know what it is you want to do.”
And he did start to wonder off, he went further into the edge of our yard than he normally does. Then he just sat there on the edge of our yard.
I think he was thinking about it. I think he was considering what he really wanted, would it be better to be on his own..
Then he came back.
He started walking back to the house, and I followed him.
He went to the door, I opened it, and he went and laid down on the couch.
I took up my place next to him and held him.
Another few hours went by, I looked at my phone and it read 1:55pm.
I looked at him and told him we only had a couple hours left.
I will never forget the look on his face in that moment.
He looked at me with such genuine fear – it broke my heart.
I could see him telling me he was scared.
I could feel that he was ready, but scared.
“It’s going to be alright. I know it’s scary – but it’s going to be over soon.
And i’m not going to leave your side. I’m going to hold you through it all.”
I had one arm around him and one hand setting out in front of him.
His paw stretched out and held my hand, he laid his head down, and closed his eyes.
We spend those last hours cuddling in whatever reassurance we could provide each other.
Then the time came.
I carried him into the car.
We drove to the doctor.
And I spent the last minutes with my best friend as I watched him fade away.
Finally at peace.
Nothing will ever be as hard as not only having to say goodbye,
but having to be the one to say “when” to say goodbye.
In those last few days, I spent so much time hoping he would go on his own.
Anything to not have to do what I knew I needed to.
To help him feel better, before the pain got so bad he couldn’t walk anymore.
I wanted him to remember life as good.
I wanted to him to know that even up into his last breath,
that I cared.
That he was so deeply loved.
It’s still hard.
I still feel guilt.
I still question if there wasn’t more I should have tried.
But then I remember that it was only a matter of time,
I cannot stop time.
The longer I prolonged his life –
the less quality his life would have had.
It was the last gift I could have given him.
To be brave enough to be able to say goodbye,
to give him last days that were full and good.
I wanted to write this,
to find healing.
To maybe help someone else
facing the same decision I had to make,
find peace with themselves.
Mostly, I wanted to write,
to put into words what we went through
so I don’t ever forget.
There are so many good memories I have with Latte.
I was by no means a perfect parent.
I made mistakes,
but I hope I made it possible for him to have a good life.
I hope he felt loved.
I know he did.
Those were the last words I spoke to him.
Over and over, as the doctor give him the euthanasia,
I held him and told him “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
I think he left this world,
to go to a better one.
And I know i’ll see him again someday.
And every day until then,
I will miss him.
To, My little love. My Latte. My son. My best friend-
Thank you for all that you gave me, all the times you were there when I needed you.
Thank you for being the only one I could confide in, and for listening.
Thank you for allowing me to know love and to love you.
Thank you for loving me back.