Sunday, November 23, 2014

Always Be

Always be thankful.
Always be nice.
Always smile.
Always be generous.
Always dress nice.
Always be prepared.
Always say something nice or nothing at all.
Always give the benefit of the doubt.

Although, those are lovely sentiments and goals they are impossible to maintain and it is silly to attempt to. Always is a constant. Always does not fail, it is consistent. It is regular, always shows up every time.

You cannot force yourself to be something every time, every day, at all times. That is wrong, that is unnatural, and impossible.

It is okay to be upset. It is fine to embrace resting bitch face. There is nothing wrong with speaking your mind or confronting those who have made your life difficult.

It is okay to lose your shit at times.Not all the time and you cannot live there but it is okay to feel overwhelmed with what life throws at you and react accordingly or not so accordingly.

Following a mold of how a person 'should act' will not help you be the person you are meant to be. It simply means you are giving up the parts of you that make you genuine. The goofy parts, the forgivable parts, the mistakes that help you learn valuable lessons in life. Sometimes you will not know how to react, you will not and cannot be prepared for the things that happen in your life, that is when you improvise, when you learn a new way, when you find out what works for you.

You are human. You are a growing, changing, evolving, real human who feels a myriad of emotions while experiencing this scary, exciting, painful and joyful world and cannot be expected to act in one manner at all times.

Just be you. As dorky and cliched as it sounds, be you. Be funny, be silly, have your bad days, cry when you're sad, be bright, laugh too loud, burp when you need to, be mad at those who hurt you and forgive in your own time-if the act is forgivable to you.

Just do not give in to some silly notion that you must act a certain way, talk a certain way, edit or censor yourself so that you may conform to a ridiculous standard in this lifetime.

Whatever the day brings, wherever the occasion, always be you. Experiencing life any other way is torture.

This has been a Sunday Confession with the one and only Hot Ash from More Than Cheese And Beer. Please stop by the link-up and check out her hilarious confession of Always, and see how the other bloggers who joined in today interpreted the prompt. Happy Sunday all.

Friday, November 21, 2014

Write On?

Life is about ideas bursting forward.

Creativity being called out from the depths of despairity to bring light to life. About possibility. Sometimes this creative power catches like a fire and burns through our souls and like an hot ember flies away until it can burn itself deeply into someone else's heart. And it continues until a forest fire is raging, ravaging and destroying anything in its path just so we can absorb its terrifying power and beauty.

Other times, the flame barely flickers before it blows itself out.

Rejection is part of a writers life.

We regret to inform you...

At this time we are not accepting submissions...

Please try again at a later time...

You accept the rejection, in a weird way it almost serves as a badge of honor. Getting a rejection letter makes you feel part of the club, part of a small world, it makes you feel like you are so close to becoming who you think you really are.

I cannot speak for every writer but for me rejection challenges me. It mocks me. It forces me to keep going, to write more, to proofread twice, to ignore mundane words and cliched storylines. It fuels me when I want to stop.

But, it sucks too.

I know rejection is not personal, but it feels personal and for a person that trusts her feelings, it gets hard to ignore them.

What is worse is when your writing finally gets accepted, when someone validates your writing then for unforseen circumstances you are informed that your writing will not be published because the project was canceled.

Which that happens.

But it sucks.

I had a hard time bringing myself to tell people that I would not be published after all, that it did not work out. I felt so foolish. I felt like I had somehow deceived them or worse, myself, in believing I was someone worth reading when in reality I was not.

Moments, like being almost published then not, make me want to stop writing at times. Take a moment to reevaluate if me devoting a lot of my spare time to scribbling, typing and staying up late to get in a few good edits and rewrites in are worth it. I wonder if challenges like NaNoWriMo is worth it and if I should continue.

I wonder if there is anything valuable in my writing or if getting published is ever going to happen. Maybe it is like a slapstick comedy where one person leaves the room as the other walks in and they are searching for one another and it continues for a while then they finally collide when they are about to give up.

Maybe I just haven't found my collision yet.

I am one of those late bloomers, one of the shy ones, one of the silly ones who looked at her talent and said, but someone else is better.

It took me a long time to realize there will always be someone better. But that does not discount or discredit any value or worth that I have of my own. That does not mean any idea, poem, story or art I create is worthless. It does not matter if someone is published, awarded, adored or distinguished-that is for their art not mine.  If we have the itch to create, to put some of our soul, a little of our ingenuity, a lot of our time, into this world, into our art we have no time to compare ourself to others.

We only have time to respond to that itch, to subdue it by scratching it with writing our hearts out, singing our souls away, drawing until our fingers hurt, because that is what you deserve. That is what your art deserves.

You may think that you bring your art to life with your talents, but the reality is, it brings you to life. It creates and calms the demons that rage inside our souls. It brings a piece of ourselves out to be examined thoroughly and if we do not like it, we are forced to change it. We must strive for our form of perfection, even in its clumsy appearances. We must accept the challenge that the art that burns inside us throws down, we must reach down, deep down pick it up and give it all we have.

Or we are frauds. We are fakes if we deny ourselves the time to create.  If we turn our backs on art, we simply will amble through life feeling unfufilled and continually searching for something to fill the hole.

When we have the ability to create art that would happily fill holes the size of the Grand Canyon.

I cannot worry about what happened and what can or will not happen. I have to focus on writing, and listening to that little voice that tells me to keep going, to keep creating. I need to say goodbye to that girl who was too afraid to put herself out there and embrace the woman who uses rejection as fuel and sees ill-timed projects as an unknown blessing.

I don't know if it will get me anywhere, if I will ever be published but I damn well know it will never happen if I give up.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Quietly and Quite Quickly Life Happens


It is the only accurate speed to explain how our lives progress. Even in the moments that seem slow and horrifying the universe is rapidly and unapologeticly rushing past us bringing our short days to an end.

And there is nothing we can do about it.

Accurate and shocking statistic but 100 percent of people born will die. It is a truth that many have an issue grasping, fully understanding and coping with but it is inevitable. If we truly embraced that fact, it could help shape our lives in the most amazing ways.

We attempt to delude ourselves that we have time, that we will make time, that we can multitask and make the most of our time. Did you know multitasking, real multitasking, is believed to be a myth in the scientific community? What we are actually doing when we multitask is just switching to another task in front of us. We are not doing both at the same time. Think of when you try to write an email and hold a conversation with somebody. Often times you stop typing to talk or your conversation comes to a halt because you are focusing on what you are writing. Which is normal.

Neuroscientists have researched and found that the reason we cannot truly multitask is because our brain needs to focus at the task at hand and cannot divide its attention to other things. It cannot handle the interference, so the frontal lobe switches to other tasks that need to be done.

I know, it is somewhat off-putting and upsetting that we think we are being proactive and in the end it does not matter, we cannot squeeze more time out of time. What we get is what we get, there is no changing that.

But we are forgetting that we already know how this story will unfold.

We. Will. Die.

We may not know exactly how or when but embracing that little tidbit can make our lives so much easier. Instead of waiting for that elusive someday to be the person we want to be, to do the things we want to do, it can help us experience and enjoy life to its fullest right here and right now.

I admit, I am attempting to take these words to heart. I am still in the process of learning to accept joy into my life and loving myself. I am writing and reading them and trying to drill them in my head that we do not have infinite time. We are not immortal. We must not be afraid.

I am thirty years old and that boggles my mind. I do not know how that is possible since it feels like I was just in high school a couple years ago. I have been with my husband for thirteen years somehow even though it feels like we just started dating. When I catch my mom in the right light and her silver strands of hair twinkle at me it takes my breath away. I do not remember growing older or life rushing by so fast. One day we are wondering what it is going to be like to be an adult and the next we are wondering where our.childhood went.

There are days I wake up early, get ready for work and take time to apply make up, specifically bright red lipstick. I outline my lips, apply, blot, check my teeth and go on my merry way. Then after ten minutes, I brusquely walk back in the bathroom and wipe it all off and hope that one day I will be comfortable with myself to wear it.Because of silliness, because of insecurity, because of fear really. Fear someone will notice and think I'm trying to look better. Fear someone will compliment me. Fear that someone will confront me and ask me why.

Why is that even a fear of mine to wear bright red lipstick and have someone ask why I am wearing it?

I believe we should never have to explain our choices to others but in a simple case like this, all I would have to do is summon my courage and say because I want to.

Because life is too damn short not to wear the pretty and shiny things.

That's it. Simple and sweet.

I have gotten better at other things and am working on my hang ups. I write more, I share more, I challenge myself to say what is on my mind and try new things. I hope to be really old and wise one day and I have heard that only comes with being young and dumb so I'm trying to learn and taste the world as much as I can.

Too many times I have missed opportunities to do what I wanted to do due to fear. Too many times someone I loved has suddenly left this world and I felt I did not properly explain my love for them.

Maybe it is not make up for you. 

Maybe it's a break or vacation you want to take, an apology you need to make, a  hobby you want to try or words you need to get off our chest. But you haven't done it because you are waiting for the "right time".

There is no right or wrong time, there is only time that is speeding by us so we must use it appropriately.

Time is one of the most valuable things in this life. We must spend it on ourselves doing what we want to do. We must appreciate that and spend it on those who bring light and life into our worlds otherwise we are wasting it.

We have to be willing to see that even though our time will speed by quickly, that it will be up before we want it to, that we can still make the most of it.

If you think you are too old or dumb to do something you are. You need to support yourself and believe you can do it, if you talk yourself down you will get nowhere. If your fear is that it will take too long, remember the time will pass anyway and what better way is there to spend time than working towards one of your goals?

We need to be comfortable enough with ourselves and our dreams and desires to do what we want. To be who we are and who we want to be. If we do not like something about ourselves or our lives we must be brave to seek out and use the instruments around us to change ourselves.

Wishing for a different life, for dreams to come true, for people to simply read your mind and know you are feeling is not going to happen. But finding that courage within yourself to be brave to conquer your world and do what you want is possible, you just have to stop putting it off to a someday that will never come and commit yourself to act in the here and now.

Todays blog is a Sunday Confession with the one and only Hot Ash from More Than Cheese And Beer. Please stop by the link up and check out her page and the other brave bloggers who tackled the prompt quick and see where it took them.

Friday, November 14, 2014

Use Your Words: November 14th, 2014

Happy Friday and welcome to another wonderful writing challenge!

This is the scoop: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them.

Until now.

At the end of this post you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what words they got and how they used them.
I’m using:

My words are:

cinnamon ~ sledge hammer ~ camera ~ yarn ~ pajamas ~ bulletin board

They were submitted by: Spatulas On Parade ~ Thanks Dawn!

This is the third and last installment of my work of fiction about Marge and Grady. If this is your first time reading it, please read THIS FIRST then this ONE so you can catch up to where we are at. Happy Reading!

He could sense her before he could see her.

After being with someone for so long, you could feel their energy searching out for your own and Grady could feel Marge approaching, searching and worrying for him. Anxiety and anticipation seeped into the room announcing her arrival before the squeaking wheels on her gurney actually got her there.

Grady watched the transporter wheel Marge into his room and it was the first time that he actually felt something besides shock. Seeing her covered in bruises, her limbs in casts, and the panic etched on her face was like a sledge hammer to his heart. He wanted to soothe her, to take away her worries and concerns, but he could not even get a word out and truly doubted his feeble attempts would soothe her. A chill came over him, causing an involuntary shudder, and seemingly simultaneously Marge reacted and winced, he knew she was wondering if he was in pain, if he was suffering, but he felt nothing. Nothing but relief the moment she was wheeled in his room.

His eyes were riveted to her face, which was nothing new. However, her beautiful face that had only brought him happiness and joy was now ripping his soul to shreds as his eyes took in the long line stitches on her forehead going deep into her hairline. His gaze dropped to the blue and purple that colored her face, her chin and jawline and noticed it matched the hideous smock that they were both wearing. The thin smocks they wore were less like pajamas and more like sand paper, grating and uncomfortable against the skin.

It seemed like long ago, but he knew it was only hours since he arrived. Since they pulled him out of the ambulance and rushed him through the hospital halls, past the bulletin boards and nurses stations and to an open room. He watched in awe as the frenzied nurses cut away his blood-soaked jeans and tee-shirt with amazing precision and in record time just to shuck them to the side. He distinctly remembered hearing a muffled thud, knowing and not caring that it was his brand new camera tossed to the floor with his soiled clothing.

Shame came over him. He should have been able to stop this from happening. He believed it was his job to protect her and he failed miserably. When Marge started to slip, he grasped and grabbed at her. Their hands playing a terrifying version of tug of war, his will and determination not to let her fall on one side and gravity and fate was pulling them down on the other. They fell, together, not gracefully, not poetically, but painfully, smashing into hard surfaces, breaking their skin and bones, scaring and scarring them and shattering their future. When they landed at the bottom he damned himself for not being able to get up and help her, but he could not move. Before help arrived, they laid there calling out to each other, their weakened voices somehow calming and reassuring one another. He saw her bravely raise her arm so he could see it, and remembered the day she bought that bright yellow yarn for that sweater she knitted.

She was always resilient, a hard-worker, a quiet woman but a fighter. Marge always surprised him by never giving up. When she told him she wanted to open a shoppe, he was dubious, he was not sure how they could make it work, but with her planning, saving and scrimping they made it and changed their lives. They both still worked hard but were able to afford what they needed for them and their daughters, they were able to send them through school, and travel the world. He remembered when days were lean for them before the girls, before they started their lives really.

Memories of no presents under the Christmas tree but the sweet smell of vanilla and cinnamon throughout the house was a gift in itself as he knew she was baking up a treat for them. Days of being exhausted due to working doubles so they could save money popped into his head. Walking everywhere together because they did not have a car yet was rough but they did it. But the winter she got frostbite was when he decided he would do anything to keep her safe so he worked hard, they saved and they made it. They were tough. They were still tough.

When he saw that sweet arm of hers raised in the air, he knew the fight was not over. He knew that they had to keep going, he had to dig in deep for that determination and perseverance but he would do it.

Words failed him and though he only wanted her in his arms he could not feel them, let alone raise them and beckon her to come lie beside him. His eyes tried to meet hers but he felt discouraged when she looked right through him. The transporter kept pushing her cart until they were passed him and he felt angry and upset. He could no longer see her. He had to crane his neck, he had to reposition himself and found that he had no pain, no aches and it was quite easy…but not like anything he had ever done before. The experience was surreal. He should have been in pain, crying and screaming, but here he was rolling over and not feeling a thing.

That was when he noticed his wife grieving over his body, her outstretched hand grasping his hand, shaking it calling his name begging him to come back to her. He wanted to; he wanted to do anything to save her from this pain. He did not think he was done here yet, he wanted to travel more, to live more, spend more mornings waking up to her sweet kisses.

Her small but fierce frame wracked with vicious sobs as he looked on confused why he was still around, wondering how he was able to spy on her and his lifeless body. One last time he needed to tell her he loved her, that she was his world, and let her know that the strength and determination she had for every other aspect of her life would get her through this. She was too strong to be defeated.
Appalled and intrigued, he glided over to her, it was not quite a walk but it was not quite floating. He made his way in between his former self and the love of his life and wondered what to do. The room was beginning to blur and lines began to soften. It was the realization that he was gone that was taking him away from this world and preparing him for his next adventure. He worried that he was going to fail, that he would mess up this opportunity, that she would not know how much he loved her.

Quickly, too quickly, he felt himself losing his senses and he attempted to fight the desire to leave. The scene in front of him began to disappear, until a light, her light called out to him. Hazy, vibrating, red lines pulsated from what he assumed was her hands into the atmosphere, he grabbed the pulses and with all his might pushed them back into her hands, screaming as loudly as he could, ripping open his lips that felt like they were sewn shut, that he loved her, that she was his world. Marge's breath caught in mid-sob. She felt a pressure, a familiar energy mingling with her own and for reasons only her heart and soul knew, she quickly and loudly declared that she knew that she was loved, she never wanted for anything a day that they were together and that she wanted him to go in peace.

Grady left her that day on towards a new adventure knowing that his Marge would be fine. She had too much strength within her to be anything else.

Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:

Baking In A Tornado

Spatulas on Parade

Stacy Sews and Schools

Follow me home

Battered Hope

Someone Else’s Genius

The Bergham’s Life Chronicles
Eileen’s Perpetually Busy

Confessions of a part-time working mom
Evil Joy Speaks

Crumpets and Bollocks

Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

Friday, November 7, 2014

Secret Subject Swap: November 7, 2014

Happy Friday and welcome to November's Secret Subject Swap!

This week, 12 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and
were assigned a secret subject to
interpret in their own style. Today we
are all simultaneously divulging our
topics and submitting our posts.

Here are links to all the sites now
featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.

So find a comfy spot, grab a snack and see where our secret subjects took us!

Baking In A Tornado

The Momisodes

Spatulas on Parade

Stacy Sews and Schools

Dinosaur Superhero Mommy


Someone Else's Genius

The Bergham's Life Chronicles

Confessions of a part-time working mom

Silence of The Mom

Crumpets and Bollocks

Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

My “Secret Subject” is:

"What would you do if someone gave you $1M?"

It was submitted by: Silence of The Mom

Why would someone give me a million dollars?

I feel for the sake of this scenario I need to say someone paid me my winnings from a lottery ticket or I received it as a gesture of a random act of kindness by some millionaire realized money was not everything and to prove it, he was randomly giving away some of his fortune.

Yeah, let's go with that. If not, my mind will wander and I'll be afraid the money was ill-gotten. Like a bribe or laundered money or something. My conscious would not be able to handle that and it would sour this sweet, fictional, scenario and we don't want to do that.

Let's go with the scenario that I was walking down the road with Rufus, my loyal and loving chihuahua, when a dapper dressed man, by the name of Reginald Wealthingston engages me.

Reginald inquires to how my day was, and on the day where I'm off work, spending time with loved ones and basking in the beauty of fall, I answer the only way I can, "beautiful, simply beautiful" with a sigh of contentment.

He is charmed immediately by my happiness, grace and my clever maneuvering skills to avoid Rufus' ridiculously far-stretching stream of urine.  The sun warmed our back as we walked down the road together, though I've never met him before I felt comfortable answering this odd man's questions. I figured he was searching for some right answer, something specific, I didn't know what that was and could only offer him what I had to say. Hopefully that would be enough.

My music infiltrated a silent but comfortable lull in the conversation.

"May I ask what you're listening to?"

"This? Oh it's a mash-up of everything, but this particular song I Need A Man To Love by the one and only Janis".

Reginald brought our walking to a halt when he asked me "Janis who?"

I sputtered for a moment and before I could calmly articulate who she was, why I loved her passionate music loud words tumbled out of my mouth. "Janis Joplin. The Janis Joplin. Raspy, bluesy, part of the Forever 27 club Janis? None of this is ringing  a bell?!"

A sheepish, amused but curious smile formed a silent  "no" on his lips. We spent the next 40 minutes talking music. He would occasionally look taken aback when I got really excited and squee out some random fact or search for a song he "just had to hear".

Mid-sentence, explaining who Trampled By Turtles was I realized I had been outside, way too long as my shivering pup, was now lazily chewing on my pant leg as an attempt to drag me back inside. I sincerely apologized and explained it was time to go inside, invited him in but he politely declined mysteriously quipping that he had spent too much of his life indoors.

As we said our goodbyes, he asked if he could ask me one more thing, then he came close and put his hands on my shoulders. I feared I would have to break his hands or worse his heart. I understand, I am highly seductive with my words, it's not his fault if he confused my passion for flirting or mild attraction to him, but alas my heart belongs to one and it wasn't him. I braced myself, but the question he asked popped my overinflated ego and gave me pause.

"What would you do if I gave you a million dollars?"

"Nothing sketchy, if that's what you mean. Definitely no sexual acts Mister so get that thought out of your head. Pay some bills, go on a vacation, fight my inner child and talk them out of buying a nacho fountain. Honestly, probably keep on with life and try not to be foolish", I said wondering where that came from.

"Reach in my pocket, Jenn".

"Nope. Heard that line before. Thanks for making this morning creepy. Have a good one", I called as I picked up my chi and scurried homeward bound.

His laughter annoyed me but I ignored his calls to come back, but eventually I heard his soft footfalls crunch on the gravel next to me.

"Just so you know", I panted while trying to put some space between us, "I have no problem kneeing you in the nuts".

He laughed again, and apologized. "I should have just gave it to you, note, next time do not ask a lady to reach in your pocket".

I stopped,  suspicious, half-turned and watched in awe as he pulled out bundles of bills from his coat pockets and he kept trying to hand them to me.

"I don't understand", my voice barely audible.

"You don't need to. It's legal. It's yours. It's a random act of kindness, now go enjoy your day" he said leaving me in my yard with money jammed in my hoodie and confusion coursing through my veins. I watched as a beautiful towncar scooped him up as if right on cue, and he waved goodbye.

Once safely inside my home, I promptly passed out from shock.

                 *         *         *          *

Here's the thing there's 2 Jenns.

One Jenn is logical, fiscally conservative and kinda boring. We shall refer to her as Old Jenn or OJ.

Then, there's the Jenn who was raised poor. Just didn't have the money. Not a big deal, it just influenced my impulsive side a bit. This Jenn always said if she got money she'd waste it, blow it, spend it on fun things because life is too short. We'll call this Jenn, Idiot Jenn, or IJ.

I have a feeling that the majority of OJ would  control the money. Thankfully.

-I would pay off any and all bills.
-Buy a reasonable priced house on some nice property, away from humanity.
-Go to Iceland.
-Take my mom on vacation wherever she wanted to go.
-Put some money aside for friends kids college funds.
-I would make donations to charities I believe in and those that helped me when I was growing up.
-I would definitely keep working and volunteering, one million dollars is not that much in the long run.

But after I took care of business, after all the affairs are in order, that's when IJ would kick in. I would possibly give into a wall covered in swarovsky crystals, get Rufus a diamond encrusted leather jacket, order like a hundred pizzas and give them away on the street corner.

Yeah...yeah that's why we are thankful OJ would be in control of finances.

What would you do if you were given 1 million dollars?

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Rock Solid? Not All The Time.

Out of the three states of matter-gas liquid or solid , I feel that I am nowhere near a solid state. If life has taught me anything, it is that it pays to be flexible and that I know I am.

There are ideas and thoughts that I have a firm grasp on. There are things that I believe I would never do. And of course, there are people, places and events that no one can keep me from.

I am not sure is that shows how solid I am or my stubbornness. Maybe both.

It does no good to be solid all the time. To be rigid, unmoving, unyielding. I believe in having a firm foundation, to have something substantial to build our lives on but that is just the beginning of who we are.

Foundations crack. They break and need to be rebuilt. Sometimes we need to find harder materials to use, better materials, more dependable ones.

In the meantime, while we are searching for the new base to rebuild our new lives on, the best way to survive is to be flexible, to be fluid, to be the liquid matter that can be smart enough to go with the flow but strong enough to carve out the Grand Canyon with enough determination.

We need to be able to be gassy at times. To evaporate when things get too hot and steamy, to expand when we need to make our presence known. To collide and beautifully combust when we encounter the forces that elicit a strong reaction from us.

When the time calls for it we can be solid again.

Just not all the time.

It is okay to not be the rock, to not be the strong source all the time.

It is okay to be soft and malleable. It is okay to learn. It is okay to question our beliefs and ideals. It is okay to take time and explore what works for us.

It is okay to take a step back and realize what is worth building our foundation on.

The beautiful thing about having people and events shake us, attempt to break us, change us, that it gives us a better perspective of who we are and what we need and want out of life.

The harder the storms we weather the stronger it makes us and helps give us resolve to what we want in life.

When we finally make up our minds, when we find what is important to us, that is when we must stay concrete, that is when we have to hold on steadfast to what we want, that is when we hold on solidly to what makes us happy, what makes us whole, what makes us complete.

This has been a Sunday Confession about Solid with the one and only More Than Cheese And Beer, please stop by the link up and check out the other brave bloggers who joined in today.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

I'm Just Going to Satisfy Myself

if only it was that easy. It is doable, but a lot of hard work to make myself satisfied.

I realized a long time ago I could not depend on other people to make me happy, to thrill me, to wholly and fully satisfy me. Only I know how to do that properly.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy people and what we do together. I even hunger for certain kinds of interactions that get my adrenaline pumping and blood flowing properly. But if I want to have a good time, if I want to get the best experience I know I have to be the one willing to satisfy myself.

No one can do it better. I understand  that it has always been more of a mind game than anything physical for me, and that's true for most women. I know how to position myself, I know how to feel full and complete without feeling awkward and shamed afterwards, I can push myself just a little farther then I would let anyone else, because I know my body, mind and soul that damn well.

The perception of ones self is a funny thing. We never quite see ourselves as others do. In my 10th grade sociology class, our teacher put a picture on the board. It was a drawing obviously done by a child where the crude lines depicted an ugly face, a lumpy and lopsided body, and the only feeling I could accurately describe emanating from the picture was hate. The person was standing away from the rest of the people who were drawn nicer, with big smiles and brightly colored clothes where the outsider was drawn to look ugly and mean.

Our teacher asked us who drew the picture, was it the person herself or did someone draw a picture of someone they disliked being shunned by the crowd. Most people said someone else drew it, but I knew in my heart it was a self-potrait and was one of the few that said so.

It was a self-portrait. We learned about body dysmorphism, low-self esteem and low confidence, and how most likely the person who could hate you the most was you.

That has stuck with me my entire life. It opened my eyes and scared the crap out of me.

How scary is it that we are the ones that can get inside our heads the most?

Find one or two simple faults and magnify them to the point where nothing else is visible to ourselves? Tear ourselves down with expert self-degradation and reinforced by societys sick obsession with only one type of beauty?

It took me a long time to accept that my beauty does not lie in my thick backside, kissable lips or eager to please knees. It took me longer to realize any true beauty I found within myself is not negated by my "flaws". My big nose does not take away from my soft heart. My fat stomach does not stop my soul from reaching out to others. My acne will not deter me from wearing a sparkly, silky skirt because that is what makes me happy.

Trying to squash the want away for the things we like because we are afraid it doesn't fit our body type or worried what people will say is pointless. People will talk, judge and be cruel anyway. We need to be our own ally and be brave enough to do what we want, even if it takes us outside of our comfort zone.

Hungering for a different life, a different body is okay. Working towards a better and healthier you is wonderful. But refusing yourself simple pleasures in life because you think you do not deserve it is asinine.  No matter who you are right now and no matter who you plan on growing and changing into, you need to accept you will always be you at heart and you should invest and believe in yourself. You cannot count on anyone else to do that for you. If you don't you will always search for happiness everywhere when you should have been cultivating it within yourself so you can live satisfied and not empty.

I used to feel silly and awkward when I chose an outfit that was form fitting and appealing to my eye. I imagined in my head that only teeny, tiny women would and should wear anything cute and fashionable. How ridiculous is that? I find myself wearing what I want, saying what I want, doing what I want not only because life is too short but because I do not deserve any less than anyone else. I am just as capable, just as human as anyone else and should  realize my worth and what pursue what brings contentment to my soul.

When we cannot find our worth, our value, our self-importance because we focus on flaws it is sickening, it is sad, it is nowhere near satisfying.

We need to accept and let go of our flaws. We need to acknowledge that yes, they are a part of us but they do not define us. We need to embrace that there is no perfection and that trying to reach it will only end in misery for us.

We need to remember that even though we are the ones that can tear ourselves down but we are also the ones who can build ourselves up. We can choose to find the beauty beside what we consider ugly. We can learn how to take a compliment and most importantly we can learn that beauty and flaws have nothing to do with our self worth.

Luckily, we are the ones who get to define ourselves. We get to decide what makes us lovable, what makes our bodies and mind beautiful, what makes us happy and content.

We are the ones who have to satisfy ourselves. We cannot rely on anyone else to build us up, to bring us to our happy spot, it is wonderful to have a amazing support system, to have loving family and friends who find the good in you, but if you cannot see your good qualities, or your true worth then any kind words will fall on your deaf ears.

You must be willing to be ignore any outside elements that want to tear you down, you must use the objectiveness you use to find the beauty in others and listen to the instincts that tell you others have an ugly soul.

You must harness that objectiveness and use those instincts on yourself. You must be willing to be raw, to be honest with yourself and take the initiative to self-satisfy and you will find yourself writhing on the inside for a long time with the most orgasmic inner bliss.

This has been a Sunday Confession with the one and only More Than Cheese And Beer. Please stop by the link-up and check out her confession as well as the other brave bloggers who joined in.