I do not feel sad when I leave

I don’t feel sad when I leave
Nope, I do not

I feel enlivened at where I am going
excited for change
with fairy dust in my eyes
The future looks bright!

I believe in going with the flow
in following the signs
I can always turn around if I please
no-thing is cemented

I don’t feel bad when I leave
However I do feel less human

I watch the ones I bonded with feel sad
My emotions don’t mirror theirs

like I am so practiced in

My friend
My lover
My sister
My brother

I appreciate you
I love you
And
Thank you

But I must go
Don’t be sad
GO GO GO!

Do what you please
Love and fulfill your needs

Take care of you
and
I’ll take care of me

Know this is all a grand adventure
For that is why
I am not sad when I leave

On yoga

I have been pondering starting up my yoga practice again.
Yoga is a beautiful and powerful practice for many.

And I hate yoga studios.

Before, I was unable to accept this
I practiced yoga for two hours every day
Contorting myself into bizarre positions
Gaining flexibility I thought was only possible for the yogis on instagram

I attended multiple yoga classes per week
Each teacher with their own flavor
Some I really enjoyed (Hi Zeah!)
And others I did not like as human beings
It was not the way they taught, or the music they played
It was the way they spoke, their intention behind their words
The feelings
I picked up their feelings they put down

Was I too sensitive for yoga?
Maybe, I thought
Was I working through internal issues?
Probably, I accepted
However, no
I am pretty sure that wasn’t it

So, what was it?

It was the bullshit.
The fakeness.
It was thick as LA smog in the air
Everyone was drinking the yoga kool aid
And I was intolerant to it

I would leave (most) classes on fire
Irritable and sharp around my blissed looking edges
intolerant to the dogma I was fed
I would be in arms after each class
fire burning in my eyes making them bloodshot
Something was burning in me and it was screaming
NO. JUST NO.

I see it now and smirk
I haven’t been to a yoga class in years
I stopped attending classes because I was done being angry
Ironic, huh?

It took me quitting it all together to really gain some peace over my mind
And I don’t necessarily think it was because I only stopped going to yoga class
I stopped trying to be a yogi
I stopped judging myself for strongly disliking many of the teachers
I stopped hanging out with people who felt off to me
I recognized that other people’s truths were not mine to replicate
I stopped forcing myself to do things I didn’t want to

And let me please say,
There are many, many amazing yoga teachers
I know quite a few myself
I have taken classes from them
And their passion and compassion shines through their teaching

THAT’S WHAT WE NEED
We need a lot more people like that in the world
They don’t have to be yoga teachers,
Just people that do what they love with passion and compassion

This is me doing that
Writing does that for me, not yoga

So to you,
Drop the BS that’s not serving you
Who cares if your kool aid spills all over the floor
Enough red dye #40 will kill you eventually

Drop it and don’t look too hard into why it didn’t work for you.
Do whatever it is that makes you feel enlightened.
And share it with the world.

true for me, not for you

I have been shutting myself down when it comes to writing
Pulling the power cord on my creativity

You know why?

Because I thought I was selfish
I was selfish for writing about my trials as a twenty-four year old average looking woman
who came from a well off family with parents still together

I felt silly
I was given such a simple life and I make mayhem of it
I feel my emotions are self imposed
That all my “problems” are self created, and my revelations are only applicable to me

And guess what?
The later two are true

And that's life!

I cannot tell you what is true
My truth is magenta pink with winks of orange
Your truth may be chrome, thick as steel
Or maybe it’s soft, like your puppy’s fur

I don’t know
And that’s not why I am here

I am not here to tell you what is true for you
I am not here to tell you what is right from wrong
And I am not here to impress or spark your fancy

I am here to express what is true for me
I am here to be the largest expression of myself, crushing self imposed boundaries
I am here to be the truest of true to me and not you

And here I am writing again
This is for me, not you
And maybe, just maybe

You needed to hear it too

tip toeing

I have been avoiding it
Tip-toeing around it
Occasionally getting a sharp piece of glass lodged in my foot
Quickly I pull it out
Being numb to the pain, for it is over ridden by fear
I can’t do it again,
I remember this pain

Then I look down
I see blood
Thousands of little shards of glass stuck to my soles of my feet
How did I not feel them?

Why, it was the fear
Larger than life in all its shadows
It had distracted me
And the very thing I feared had happened
Yet I hadn’t noticed
And I was still standing

How could it be?

If you have ever picked glass out of your feet, you know
You know the time it takes to gently remove each little sliver
The eyesight it takes to see the invisible thorns
The patience it takes to continue to dig until the sliver is out

And you still do it
For you know if you do not take time to remove each piece
It will hurt more, lodge deeper in your sole

And when you’re finished
Your feet are still sore
Don’t worry though,
They too, will heal completely

And maybe you learned a few things~

Maybe you learned that fear is an illusion
That the very thing you fear, might not be as painful as the fear itself

Be the One

Be the one who speaks up when others fear the repercussions
The one who forgives easily and recognizes the humanness behind it all

Be the one who gets naked first, encouraging others to love themselves
The one who isn’t “perfect” in any way, shape or form but doesn’t give a damn

Be the one who never settles, knowing that settling is giving up
The one who does not fit into the mold society so carefully sculpted

Be the one who undresses their soul, unafraid of who will see
The one who feels the fear of rejection but risks it anyways

Be the one who feels all of the feels-- the highs and the lows, recognizing both as beautiful
The one that cries when they are sad, to laugh in the next minute at the emotional release

Be the one who says sorry first, not because of necessity, but because you feel it in your soul
The one to admit when you messed up, unafraid to be humbled

Be the one who says I love you first
The one who is fearless and courageous in their love, knowing it needs to be expressed

Be the one who goes against the grain
The one who gains tough skin from the constant rubbing of “shoulds” and “shouldn'ts”

Be the one who looks people in the eyes, recognizing their individuality yet acknowledging their sameness
The one who sees past others egos, straight into their hearts

Be the one who understands
The one who listens to the things said and unsaid

Be the one who seeks
The one who knows there is a purpose behind everything, yet is curious to dig a little

And lastly,

Be the one who lives authentically
The one who lives every moment in honesty
The one who wakes up each morning with expansiveness in their heart and a fire in their soul
The one who knows their time is short and they damn well will make a difference

Be the one you feel authentically being

On rejection

"You could be prettier,” he said.
He then added,
“You could have a more feminine face.
And you could be skinnier.”

And that was that. This was the third time I was rejected by a man in a year.

That's a lot, huh? I could go on thinking, oh it must be true. I am too fat. Too obnoxious. Too ugly. Too manly looking. Too fiery. But that isn’t the case.

I would be lying if I said I don’t give a damn what other people think of me. I do. I most definitely do, but to an extent. I approve of myself. I think I am pretty. I think I am badass. And I think that I am who I am for a reason. However, that’s not what I’m writing this for.

You see, it is no coincidence that I keep coming up against the same experience. Being rejected is many people’s worst fear. We go out of our ways, and in many ways conform, out of the fear of being rejected.

Being rejected stings. It screams “YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH AS YOU ARE!”. It sucker punches you from behind and then kicks you while you’re down.

However, it teaches us just as much as it hurts us. It reminds us that we have to choice to let the daggers of rejection skim our shoulders without stabbing us. It reminds us, that no, we are not for everyone (and that’s a good thing)! It humbles us, and forces us to become more firmly rooted in our being. It makes us look at ourselves on the inside, and (can) strengthen our beliefs about ourselves. And most of all, it allows all that is not meant for us to move along, so we are available for what is meant for us.

As I spoke to a few people close friends about my experience, all of them had the same response, “Are you fucking kidding me!? What did you say back?! He says YOU’RE not PRETTY enough for him?!! Fuck him!”

And I have laughed at the absurdity. I didn’t say anything mean back. What would I get out of saying hurtful things to him? Assurance that I hurt him as he hurt me? Hurt people, hurt people. Read that again. Read it over and over again until it is cemented in your consciousness. Hurt people, hurt people. It’s something I have learned the hard way, and it is something I still recognize daily. I have hurt people out of fear of being hurt. It’s a sad existence.

So you’re probably wondering, how did I react? Well, I just said, “huh, that’s interesting. I feel I am decent looking. And I like myself. So I guess that’s your opinion.” I was a little drunk, otherwise I would have walked the rest of the way home. Not out of spite, but out of respect for myself. As we sat quietly, I felt his eyes searching my profile for a reaction. He said, “how does that make you feel?”

I turned half facing him and said, “It doesn’t really make me feel any which way, it just shows me how you feel.”

How you feel about me, how it is a reflection of yourself, how hurt you must have been in the past, how afraid you are of connection and hey, you really are not attracted to me.

To put things into perspective, this guy is someone I found interesting. I know, I know, if you are my good friend you are rolling your eyes (I’m talking to you Cam and Brendan). He is bizarre. He HATES religion (his reasoning is interesting), he hates people knowing his business, he is extremely clever, good at what he does, and (I think) has difficulty connecting with others.

I was curious, very curious. And hey, he was catching my drift. We went to drinks. We went exploring. And it didn’t work out.

I know, I know, rejection still hurts regardless if we have strong positive beliefs about ourselves. Yes, it does. And there is beauty in the hurt. It reminds us that we are social creatures. It reminds us that yes, we do have a heart, and it can be hurt. I get it now. I will keep on coming up with the same experiences until I tune into what it is that is being taught.

I am emotionally unavailable. I have been avoiding that statement now for a year. I have found multiple almost relationships and one real deal. Guess what happened with the “real” relationship? I ended it. I sabotaged it. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t able to be the person he needed me to be. I wasn’t able to be emotionally committed. I wasn’t being my best self, and that is what relationships are about-- being the highest version of yourself while simultaneously helping the other do the same.

So yes, rejection hurts. However, I believe it happens for us. Not to us.

Maybe you disagree. That’s okay. Like I said, that’s your opinion. If you’re open to adopting a different outlook, try on what I said just for shits and giggles. Who knows, it might fit.

On getting crossed

Hate looks really bad on me. So does resentment. My eyes become perma-bloodshot and my skin breaks out. I am constantly overheated and I don’t sleep soundly. You think I’m kidding (or out of my mind), I’m not. You have probably heard the saying that hating someone or something is like drinking your own poison. For me, it quite literally feels like that.

I was hurt. Then I was sad. Then I was angry. So effing (your welcome mom for not cussing) angry. I wanted to spit fire, yet I knew better not to. What would I get in return to react and hurt another? Why was I angry? Because someone did not like me and find me attractive? Because someone was straight up rude to me? Because I believe the things they said? Nope, I was angry because my ego was threatened. I was angry because I had treated them very kindly and put out my hand when I felt it was dangerous. I was angry because I felt I had received a wrath I did not deserve. I was angry because it’s easier to feel angry than to feel hurt.

And just like that the anger is recognized. However, my body has paid for it.

So how do I let go of anger? How do I let go of hurt? How do I act lovingly to myself when I have to see that person every day? How do I act lovingly to them when I just want to teach them they cannot treat others in that way? The answer is simple--stay grounded and keep my energy internal. For someone like me, that is a challenging practice that needs maintaining every day. What does that mean? It means for me to recognize my emotions, their flighty nature and to focus on my heart. I know that sounds corny, and maybe it is. For me, it works. I am a visual and kinesthetic person, so this makes sense to me. As I touch my sternum, I feel grounded. I feel warmth and I feel a knowing that I will be okay. I feel lucky to have this practice because it’s incredibly simple. No, I am not religious, though I may be a witch. And no, it likely won’t work for you because you are different than I. And I am different than you.

Letting go of what hurts us, in this case anger, is a choice.

Anger goes hand in hand with being a fiery person. That, I definitely am. Watery too. A bizarre mix. I am constantly looking for ways to balance the two. Be kind, yet hold boundaries. Be empathetic, yet feisty. Be deep, yet wild. I am reminded of my nature; that I am not perfect, and I am trying my damned best to be my best self. And that's what matters, right? To go to sleep each night knowing I touched others hearts and I lived my day with the intention of kindness.

With that, I realize, this too is just another experience to teach me to balance the two.