How Do I Pull Myself Out Of This Rut?

I love this. I love this so much. This is raw, and real. Talk about an honest and straightforward message. These are all just descriptors for what’s below. Yeah. Just read it.

Thought Catalog

Flickr / lauren rushingFlickr / lauren rushing

Dear Laura, 

I have absolutely no idea why I’m emailing you, other than the fact that I am completely and utterly miserable, and so were you, but now you’re not. 

I am lost, I am unhappy, I am bored, I am trapped, I am in a rut. I need to get away, really, really need to get away, but I don’t know where to start. 

I read your posts and see your pictures etc. and I ache. I constantly think about upping and leaving, but I never do it. I pretend I’m the spontaneous, independent type, but I’m not. I need people holding me up, I need people telling me what to do, and I need at least a rough plan.

I know nobody can help me but myself, and yet… help me?

R xo

***

Oh Lord. I know this. I know this so…

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A letter to the girls that mocked and made fun of me, “I don’t do it for you.”

Dear Girls,

I would call you ladies, but I believe you demonstrated yesterday that you have yet to achieve that level of maturity.

Though I may be in my late 20’s – and you see me as “old” – I can still be hurt.

This is not a piece of hate-mail to you. Oh no… This is much bigger. This is me owning that I am capable of being hurt. I am vulnerable, and when people make fun of me for pursuing my passions I turn red in the face. Not with anger, but with shame. Although I really have nothing to be ashamed of, I still turn red and become embarrassed.

I feel so sorry that you have also been shamed, and don’t feel safe enough to be vulnerable. For shaming others to cover our vulnerability is something that is taught, and demonstrated consistently by others.

Although your passive aggressive teasing shamed me, that won’t stop me. I don’t do it for you.

I don’t play the piano at the hospital for you. I do it for those who can’t see past their pain, or for the families that are hoping for their loved one to wake up. I do it so that maybe the music will [hopefully] connect, and communicate, what their words cannot.

Imagine if I were to stop because you felt uncomfortable with what I was doing. Would you take responsibility when someone asks, “Where is that girl that played the piano?”  Or would you laugh in their face and say, “She was annoying. Good riddance.”

I am an awkward person at best, and my own awkwardness tends to make those who are insecure feel worse. Unintentionally, I know I made you feel uncomfortable with yourself. Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have felt the need to tease me.

I don’t do it for you, and a little criticism and teasing aren’t going to overwhelm my desire to connect with others in a meaningful way.

So I hope you got your laughs, and I hope that one day you’ll find something as equally rewarding to be passionate about. So that when you’re teased and criticized, you can offer grace and say, “I don’t do it for you.”

Best Regards,

Girl-On-The-Piano

I need sunshine – A look at self-worth

I need sunshine – and wind – and water – and movement. These things keep me in the moment and present in my body. Which is essential when I experience the following.

My life is full of this aching discomfort at being vulnerable, of reaching out to people and being rejected or ignored. Being ignored hurts worse, by the way. It’s reinforcing the insecurity that whatever I am, I am not enough – for if I was, then I would be worth a response.

Which isn’t the case at all, and it’s a bold-faced lie.

am enough. There will be those who don’t see my value, and/or don’t have the capacity for that which I offer.

And that’s okay.

How hard is that to say?

Really effing hard!!

I want to scream and writhe on the floor in embarrassment for putting myself out there in the first place, or for holding on hope (for that’s what it is… Or insanity, depends on how you look at it) that this person (whomever it is) would care enough about me to reach back out to me. Whether it be a business contact, a personal friend, or even a family member.

Then I start into the, “If they cared enough about me… if I was worth enough to them. Clearly I’m not worth anything or they would’ve reached out to me. Clearly – clearly.”

Clearly, whomever had bigger problems going on in their life and this whole situation probably isn’t about me. It’s probably bad timing and a general dissonance between my expectations and what they’re capable of.

But that doesn’t reflect my worth. My worth cannot be defined by these interactions. My worth is an entire lifetime of experiences. How can you put an entire lifetime into a single text or email?

You can’t. Which is one of the many reasons it’s bogus and a lie.

TL;DR Your worth is defined by your lifetime, not a singular experience. And the movement of sunshine and nature helps to keep these things in perspective for me. 

When have you struggled with self-worth? What did you do? Would love to hear from you in the comments!

I believe in love and softness

I believe in love.

I believe in that feeling you get when you wake up where you roll over and snuggle in with a slow smile.

I believe in a gaze with electricity. The one that says, “You and I. We connect. There’s something here.”

I believe in softness.

I believe in the shirt that clings to the soft spots and invites a touch.

I believe in mussy hair that shows the experience is more important than the appearance.

I believe in touch.

I believe in fingertips that wander gently – savoring a feel rather than looking for a destination.

I believe that skin can communicate more than words.

I believe in resonance.

I believe that souls hum when they encounter another they recognize.

I believe that romance comes through thoughtful expression – not a cliche.

I believe that feeling love reminds us that we’re alive, and keeps what’s important in perspective.

What do you believe in?

Winter introduces itself

Winter is on the air. Leaves left on the trees whirl like pinwheels, or drift off like twirling ballerinas.

I watch with quiet wonder as a leaf gently alights onto the streams flow. Ripple, ripple, ripple. How simple, yet complex.

How else do we describe water but as cool, clear and sweet? This water is definitely cool, its 30 degrees out, and I can see the bottom where the sand has been dragged into undulating patterns.

image

Aside from the sound of cars ‘swooshing’ on a distant bridge there is only my neurotic dog as she snuffles and sniffs the surrounding ground.

What is this place? Abandoned? Or just forgotten as the cold reclaims what summer has left behind.

image

I can feel my cheeks nipped red on the edges, and my hair is starting to escape my knit hat.

Time to return. Welcome once again winter.

Anger Boiling

Anger bursting from the seams,
Barely contained,
Ridiculed and deemed,
Shameful

Yet it wasn’t I who chose this path,
Offered no understanding,
No empathy, wrath
Painful

Contain I must the slow fire inside,
For ‘the greater good’
I sacrifice pride
Baneful

Continue reading

It’s a different world for a poet

Poets see the world differently.

Almost with a greater sense of observation do they expose the world to the rest of us.

They see with different eyes. Hear with different ears.

Like shared memories. You both feel the wind, but one notices the music it makes and the other notes she now has to redo her hair.

I wouldn’t say that it’s a greater sensitivity, because we all have the capability. It’s more like a choice and a shift in perspective. Say you were to flip yourself upside down. The sofa is on the ceiling, and the light is on the floor. It might change the way you feel about the floor, or you just think, “What the hell am I doing? This is ridiculous.”

It’s about allowing your imagination to do the thinking for you, and letting go of conventional wisdom.

It’s also important to realize that poets take many forms. Some are songwriters – some are artists making poetry with their brushes (Monet and Degas are favorites that I feel show this) – some are scientists.

That last one is a little harder to believe, to see. However, I believe that they fit the criteria rather well. They can look at the world differently; seeing atoms and processes and chemistry where the rest of us see a cupcake. Or seeing how the world curves when the rest of us believe we’ll fall off if we go too far – for surely the world is flat.

Poetry is everywhere, and poets are the ones who see truth and can communicate that to the rest of us.