moonshineniki

[moonshineniki]

https://moonshineniki.wordpress.com/ I'm no longer on Tumblr. You can find me on Facebook or on WordPress at the links above. :)

[moonshineniki]

I Am More Than My Cleavage

I Am More Than My Cleavage? Seriously?! What kind of world do we live in that I feel the need to write a blog with that title?

In order to truly explain my thought process and feelings behind all this, I must give you some background info. As a teenager, like many confused kids, I had attention issues. Hell, I still do (I mean, hello, I write a blog—pay attention to me! Haha). My attention issues then were different though. Yes, I was that girl that fooled around with the boys before my peers did. As a young woman with large breasts and a curvy body, developed long before I knew what to do with it, it was easy to discover how I could get the attention that I craved.

When I moved to my small town, the place I now call home, I was just beginning to really act out. I desperately wanted to fit in and be one of the Cool Kids. I wanted to be liked and paid attention to. I was a mere 13 years old, but thought of myself as a grown up. It only took a month or two to not only catch the attention of some of the popular boys, but also to make myself ostracized. I realized after it was too late that I was the girl the boys wanted, the girl the girls hated, and the girl no one wanted to be publicly associated with. I wasn’t understood and I didn’t know how to behave any differently.

I struggled with this stuff my entire youth. It was a constant fight inside myself between wanting to be paid attention to and wanting with all of my aching teenage heart to not be an outcast. I wanted to be liked for who I was inside my tender soul, but I kept searching for it with my cleavage.

Now to fast forward many years, many heartaches, many milestones, and much personal growth, I’m no longer that broken girl. But you know what? Society is. We live in this era of everything being sexual, insane beauty standards constantly in our faces, and the most casual attitude of sex that our nation has ever seen. Teenagers (along with the adults, of course) are exchanging naked selfies, even fast food commercials use sex to sell, no one bats an eye at casual sex and “friends with benefits”,  and we push birth control on 12 year olds. Along with all of this, women seem to be seen in general as sex objects and nothing more. When one is lusting after the barely dressed woman on the cover of Cosmo, he or she is not thinking about who that woman is, what matters to her, or what she has going on in her life—he or she is thinking about how great her breasts look or how amazing those thighs are, et cetera. This objectification doesn’t just go for those we see on television, on magazine covers, or in online ads. It spills over into how we see women in real life. In fact, that statement right there, “real life”, shows just how deep this goes. Those women, photoshopped, covered in makeup, and in glossy print everywhere you look—they’re still real women.  They still have feelings, goals, family, struggles, and triumphs that have nothing to do with the image you see on those screens or magazine covers.

While writing this, I decided to do some quick research about how many ads the typical American sees in a day because it’s relevant to my point on what we as Americans are seeing without even realizing it on a daily basis. There are no hard and fast numbers, but many sources estimate that the number of daily ads we see can reach into the thousands. Think about it, every time you log onto Pandora, every time you pass a city bus, check out at the grocery store, sit in front of your TV, get on Facebook, play a mobile game, flip through a magazine in a waiting room, step in front of a television in Wal-Mart, shop online, walk down the cereal aisle, drive through town, use the Internet to help your children with homework, and even getting into an elevator in bigger cities—your eyes are bombarded with advertisements. Thousands of images every day flood into your brain whether you realize it or not, and many of these are using edited images of “sexy” women. According to mediaed.org, it is thought that only around 8% of an ad’s message is consciously received into the mind. So much info is being put into our minds, and while we may not realize it, that data soaks into our brains anyway.  **If you’re curious about the info on advertisements, please check the mediaed.org link at the bottom of this. There is a ton of info in their pdf about sexual images, consumerism, and specifically women and girls and how they are used and manipulated in the media. It’s quite eye opening.**

But I’m straying from my point here. When we are teaching those in society through this constant onslaught of images that women are to be lusted after, that deeply ingrained, unconscious act cannot be compartmentalized into just viewing women in media this way. It becomes how our youth sees their female peers. It is how grown men see their coworkers. It is how old men see younger generations of women (side note, did you know the number two most searched porn term online in America is “teen”, second only to MILF? That’s a whole different blog to be written but helps to show how much our current youth are in danger with this). It is even how us women now tend to see each other and ourselves. As human beings, our eyes take in how others look and our bodies and brains are stimulated accordingly. Without having guarded hearts and trained minds, we unconsciously objectify others based on these standards in America, and I have recently had much personal experience to remind me of this.

I have been struggling the last several months with having gone through a breakup of a serious relationship and all that goes with that. I’ve had loneliness and a desire to be accepted and wanted by others. In some ways, bits of that broken teenage girl in me crept back to the surface, and that allowed me to put my guard down without realizing it. Unlike when I was a kid though, we have this wonderful thing called social media these days. It often gives a false sense of connectedness with others, and it also gives many people the guts to say things online that wouldn’t be said face to face. I could give several examples of this, but to save face and space to this already very long post, I’m going to just give one example of how outrageous this objectification has become, and it has an impact.

The one incident that punched me in the gut emotionally and I knew would result in this very blog post with this exact title happened around two months ago. Like most, I have a Facebook account and almost 300 “friends” on it. Also like most women, I change my profile picture on it often. I use a little app on my phone to make pretty edited pictures that make the perfect size for a “pro pic”. One day, I changed my picture without thinking about the unintentional cleavage that was showing. Remember, long gone are my days of wanting to draw people in with my breasts, but because they are large, cleavage happens sometimes regardless. I was leaving work when I suddenly got an instant message from a male friend that threw me off. I wasn’t on Facebook at the moment and wasn’t even aware yet of the comments on my new profile picture, but all it took was one friend to comment about my cleavage on this picture before there were suddenly a small handful of comments about my breasts. What was worse though was the message from my “friend”. One word. Boobies.

I had no idea what it meant when the Facebook message texted my phone. I honestly thought it was an accident. I got online to inquire about it. I opened up my messages, and sure enough, it was the one word and then a selfie of him.

Me: Boobies?

Him: Yeah, I like them.

Him: *shirtless selfie*

Him: Where’s my pic now? You always show your boobs hanging out. Let ’em loose.

I was appalled and so very hurt. I had previously thought this guy was kinda cute and had known we had stuff in common, so I was actually pleased that he messaged me at first. But I was not happy that he felt it was okay to not just bring up such ugly subject matter so boldly, but to talk to me as if I wasn’t even a normal human being deserving of respect. I was ashamed even though I’d done nothing to ask for this kind of treatment. I was deeply hurt that he talked to me like this completely unsolicited and without an ounce of respect--especially when it was the first time he’d ever initiated conversation with me.

Me: There’s websites for that ya know.

Him: Yeah, but why online if it’s local?

I teared up reading his messages. I was thoroughly blown away. In an instant, I was that hurting young woman that wanted to be one of the Cool Kids so badly, but I was also the adult I am now and knew that no matter what I was feeling, I was NOT going to allow this to continue.

Me: Because I’m more than just my cleavage.

Him: Yeah, you got an ass too.

Me: *Closes Facebook*

I realized that I felt shame before I had even done anything. There was embarrassment that had lived there inside me so long. Humiliation from acts so long ago that caused me to still feel that hurt as a grown woman. But he didn’t get what he wanted, and I kept my dignity. I honestly meant what I said. I AM more than my cleavage. Whether it was intentional or accidental, cleavage did not give him permission to completely disregard the fact that I am a woman with feelings. I have lived and succeeded through major struggles, I have experienced great joys, I have beautiful children that think I’m the most important person on earth, and I have been hurt badly, loved madly, and helped others gladly. I am a woman, not an object! Even though it’s taken me a while longer in life to discover it, I am worthy of love, tenderness, and respect. I. Am. More. Than. My. Cleavage.  

Resources

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2292582/Most-popular-porn-site-search-terms-revealed-Americans-favour-MILF-Syrians-like-aunt.html 

https://www.mediaed.org/assets/products/241/studyguide_241.pdf 

http://depts.washington.edu/thmedia/view.cgi?section=medialiteracy&page=fastfacts

[moonshineniki]

I’m Making Change My Bitch!

Changes.

 Man, I’ve never done well or liked change in my life. I remember a story from when I was little that my mom used to tell. I remember her telling me that when I was a very small child (preschool age), my grandma had changed her hair. As soon as I saw her with a different style, I freaked out and was incredibly upset that she no longer looked like the grandma I was used to seeing. And that story pretty much describes how I’ve been with change my entire life.

 Lately, there’s been so much change, and I’d be lying if I said I was adapting quickly and easily. It’s been very difficult. It has not been easy adjusting to dealing with every aspect of life completely by myself—cleaning, parenting, car issues, pet issues, cooking, and a million other things. I don’t love having no one by my side, no one texting or calling me because they miss me, no one checking in on me. I don’t love knowing that every single issue there is, I’m the only one responsible. I don’t love that no matter how lonely or sad I feel, there’s no one out there to fix it. I can only fix myself.

 It may not be coming easily, but it’s coming though. I’m adapting slowly but surely. I’ve learned a lot about how the only person I can rely on depend on is me. Only I can save myself. I’m going to be just fine. I will figure out how to not only survive by myself, but I’m going to thrive, baby! I’m strong. I’m independent. I’m smart. I’m passionate. I’m driven. I am woman—hear me roar!!!

[moonshineniki]

Always the Hopeless Romantic

If I could say everything to you that’s inside of me, I would start with, you are hurting me with your constant hot and cold. If I could say the things in my heart without fear that you will turn around and run, I would start with, I’ve been falling for you—so much more than I’d like to have. If I could magically make you feel my way, I’d start with telling you I don’t want anyone else but you.

I’m hooked. I’m hopelessly addicted after just two months of talking. I was hooked before you ever gathered me into your arms. I was hooked before you ever pressed your sweet lips to mine and kissed me unlike I’d ever been kissed before. I was hooked before I’d been able to spend hours…a night…alone in your company. But how is it that I’m hooked and you…you are…not?

You do these amazingly sweet things. You melt me with the looks you give. The way you wink at me over the meal we are having. The way you kiss me like you are starving and need my love like it will provide you physical sustenance. The way you casually touch me and it squeezes my heart. And then you do these things that make me feel like I’m all alone. You make me wait for hours for a response to a text. You ignore the things I really want you to respond to, but then will immediately respond over something stupid. You ignore me when I point blank ask you what is going on, when you know I mean more than, “What are you doing right now?” You fill me with so much and then turn right around hours later and make me feel like I’m starving. Starving for your attention, your reassurance, your touch…

Why? Why can’t you be on an even keel? Why can’t you feel the same as I do? Why, if you don’t want me, can’t you just honestly say that? Why do you so often seem confused? Why do you give me so many mixed signals, making me constantly question my position with you? Why do I have to always feel like I’m deciphering code through your actions? Why do you have so much control over me?!

[moonshineniki]

Just a Regular Badass

Man, things are sure changing. And you know what? As scary as change is and as much as things are unknown and in the air, I feel really, really good. I’ve got this!

 I’m still waiting for “Mr. Man” to find a place and move out. We’re definitely in crunch time now with me running out of grace and patience waiting for that to happen. When we first broke up (3 weeks ago, holy crap), I didn’t mind that he didn’t have to leave right away. It gave me time to adjust and time to digest what was going on before everything was public. I was willing to be patient and allow for him to house hunt instead of forcing him and his children onto someone’s couch. But now here we are weeks later, I’ve adjusted to no longer being a couple, things are Facebook official, and I’m feeling good. It’s time.

 I’ve put up with his pouting, his emotional outbursts, poor behavior choices from the kids, and inconvenience in general. I’m just ready. I’m ready for my house to be mine again. I’m ready for the clutter to go away. I’m ready for his stuff to be gone so I can clean, reorganize, and rearrange my room again to be a peaceful place. I feel the need to deep clean like it can deep clean my soul of all the negativity too. I’m ready to have time with my children alone. I’m ready for more dancing in the kitchen, and goofiness, and fun away from the eyes of the rest of the world—including him.

 Growth is painful, but mastering change and finding the positive challenge in it is totally healing. My head and heart and soul feel good. I’ve adjusted. I’m capable. I am equipped, primed and ripe with anticipation. I am strong. I am a regular badass, folks, and I’m ready to take on the world!

[moonshineniki]

Erroneously Fallen

You stole my heart away too quickly, I tried not to allow it, but I failed. Your sweet kisses made my stomach flutter, And all my hopes against falling suddenly sailed. Then you told me you couldn't do it, Couldn't start something with someone living an hour away. And ever since, I've fought to not bug you, Fighting to keep my mouth shut every day. I try hard to keep my feelings to myself, Though they occasionally slip out no matter what I do. You ignore those texts and move to the next, Leaving me frustrated and a little hurt and confused. I try to remind myself there are others, That you're not the only one who could kiss me the amazing way you have. But it's just your smiles, sneaking glances, and tender touches, I seem to still want so bad. It is what it is, unfortunately. That's become my new catch phrase. But I'd be lying my ass off if I said, I wasn't completely captured by your ways. The feelings will go away, I know. Things will end up alright. But for now, it's not going away quickly, And it's you I dream of every night.

[moonshineniki]

Just A Poem

I have written poems for men who don’t even deserve to cross my mind. I’ve loved friends in ways that they never deserved to be cared for. I’ve cried hot tears for people that hurt me without giving a second thought. And I’ve given pieces of myself away to those that had no idea I craved more.

I’ve skinned my knees and picked myself back up. I’ve stumbled and even fallen, but recovered on my own strength. I’ve felt stupid and foolish but I have still smiled, And to hide my hurts, I’ve sometimes gone to great lengths.

Not many deserve my love and loyalty. In fact, I’d say it’s just a small few. But for even those that don’t deserve it, Love, support, encouragement, and even just friendly smiles, I always continue to do.

It’s truly the way I’m built by the hand of God. A tender soul is putting it mildly. I may seem weak, or foolish, or even daft to some, But I just believe I’ve simply been created to give and love purely and wildly.

[moonshineniki]

Ever the Believer. The Lover. Me.

I disappoint myself sometimes. I frustrate myself pretty much more than anyone else can. The funny thing about that, is after 30+ years of being this way, I still haven’t figured out how to turn my heart off.

Even when I know something is likely bad, I feel for it anyway. Even when that piece of me thinks that things are only going to end in heartache—I still want to take that chance. But how can I not? 

Everything I’ve ever had has ended in heartache, so I have two choices. 1. I quit and believe that true love, loyalty, and teamwork doesn’t exist and will never happen, or 2. I keep believing and hoping and giving chances. And the reality is, I was built with a lover and nurturer’s soul, so turning off my heart isn’t likely to happen. Ever.

So what do I do? I endure. I fight. I continue on despite the world that reflects negativity on the daily. I somehow allow my heart to keep believing. This road of getting my heart stung might not be over yet, but I can pretty much guarantee that even if it isn’t, it won’t make me quit. It’s just who I am. I am weak. And yet, I am Oh. So. Strong.

[moonshineniki]

Randomness...

5 Random Facts About Me 

1.     I cannot write at home without being barefoot. I don’t know why that is, but as soon as I sit down, if I still have shoes or socks on, I immediately strip them off to write. I’ve been doing that longer than I’ve ever noticed it was a thing for me.

2.     I’m socially awkward and weird. I overthink stuff way too much and while I’m smart, I’m not quick witted in conversation. I tend to feel out of place in big social settings. But on the flip side of that coin, I tend to do really well with one on one conversation and connection. Because I’m such a bare my heart and soul kinda woman, I find it easy to connect with others that are also open.

3.     I’m a highly sensitive person (that’s a for real thing, look it up). I get overstimulated easily, especially from noise. I get upset with repetitive sound, people talking loudly over others, the TV being too loud, or overlapping noise (the music, plus the sound of people talking, plus the noise of the air conditioning, plus the phone ringing, etc.). I also startle extremely easily, and sometimes, to the point of crying or feeling pain in my chest. I am affected by smells much more so than others. But I’m also easily in tune with how others feel or how to make others feel better. I sure could go without many of these though. I’m definitely not the kind of person you want to jump out from behind and yell boo. I’ll cry and you would feel bad. Hahaha

4.     I love the outdoors. The feel of the sunshine on my skin makes me happy. I feel a deep connection to the outdoors. I get much peace just from noticing the sky's beauty, whether it’s during the day and I’m looking at the clouds, whether it’s nighttime and I’m checking out the moon and stars, or the sun is rising or setting. Just noticing the skies beauty makes me feel at peace deep in my soul. I especially love being anywhere where there is wildlife or water. It’s very much a part of who I am.

5.     I love music. It’s a constant in my life. Whether I’m doing dishes, showering, working, driving, etc. I’m always listening to music. It speaks to me. When I’m upset, I relate to music. When I’m happy, I relate to music. I love to cook dinner with the music loud and dance around the kitchen with my kiddos. We take turns bringing up songs on Youtube and use it as bonding time. My kids will ask me, “Mama, can we have a Youtube night?” I love it. I would be lost without music.

[moonshineniki]

Writing....And Smiling

It’s been several days into the breakup now, and things are….okay. Seriously, it’s okay. Not that I’m saying it’s not been painful, because it has, but the world is not crashing and burning. And I can already see the horizon.

***

I had a difficult afternoon at work. I started the day feeling good and positive and hopeful…and then work stress began to take over. Dealing with my boss constantly interrupting whatever I’m working on to continuously bug me for small shit, having to spend two hours of my day booking travel plans for multiple people (all of whom have ridiculously strong opinions on where they sit on the plane, what rental car gets booked, and what restaurants they eat at--when I’ve never been able to travel and would be in awe just to be on a plane in general), and fighting for hours with the stupid printer for which I need all day for my every job duty—all of this while also ending up being belittled by a coworker that loves to be mean to me just to be mean. My afternoon was largely frustrating. But…there were bright moments in my day, and they happened all day long.

***

At dinner tonight, it was yet another game of going around the table and asking what the best and worst parts of everyone’s days were. As they went around, I had to really think about what I was going to choose to tell them as to what the best part of my day was. It got to me, and…I told a little fib. I told them that the best part of my day was sitting right there in that moment. Just being able to relax and breathe and spend time with all of them. While that moment was truly enjoyable, I don’t know that I could honestly say it was the best part of my day. At that same time, I have had several, small good moments today. And as I sit here, feeling relaxed and calm, out in the fresh air feeling a breeze as I type, thinking about the good moments, and listening to a little Bonnie Raitt and K.T. Oslin, I feel good. Really good.

***

My good moments today belong to a name. A name I wouldn’t say here, but definitely a name…belonging to a man. A man that makes me feel good.

This started out of innocence, out of kindness and friendship, but also out of genuine, out of the blue attraction too. It all started with a compliment. Something nice said from a stranger. Something that of course would speak to me more than most would understand, even if it’s small and stupid. “Nice boots.” That’s it. Wearing a khaki skirt and my tall boots, he walked in my office and randomly blurted out, “Nice boots.” It was cute and a big compliment for me because unbeknownst to him, no one loves cowboy boots like I do. It’s not like I’d never noticed his gorgeous smile or kind, bright eyes before, but the sudden sweetness definitely made me go, “Hmmmmm…” inside.

I gave him my number for legitimate work purposes, but even his short, work related texts made me smile. It was enough to let him pop into my head once in a while. It was enough to begin to look forward to when he needed to pop into my work. In the most normal transition as humanly possible, without even realizing it, we began talking about normal life when he’d sit to sign his paperwork. What was once seconds, was then a few minutes, and then many more minutes. What started as those few seconds in my office as my back was turned to him became face to face, 30 minute long talks outside as a “smoke break” while hoping no one was noticing my attention.

More texting happened. It was innocent enough. The talks grew intimate though. I was honest about every aspect of my situation. We talked about normal real life….and then we talked about more intimate areas of life. More sweet stuff was being said, and before I knew it, butterflies started happening randomly. After my breakup happened, more intimacy happened. And hugs happened. Hugs that felt so good, I’d forgotten about any personal limitations of myself getting close to someone new. An embrace so delicious, my insides warmed like I’d drank a shot of whiskey each time he’s touched me.

The most amazing thing of all, is that even though the door has been opened for more, there’s no rush. There’s sweetness instead of just urgency. There’s a desire for more time together, not just a room together. We talk, we text, and I smile. All day long, at random moments and intervals, he makes me feel So. Freaking. Good.

It’s nothing crazy intense. It’s nothing about promises of love and futures. But it’s rich and not cheap. It’s sweet and personal and genuine. It’s texts out of the blue, all day long that make me know I want more. I don’t want a race, but I know it is a path I want to walk down. A path where I’m hoping I get to hold his hand.

[moonshineniki]

#truth

[moonshineniki]

It is Now

It is time. Literally moments away. Only minutes will pass before it begins. Holy. Fucking. Hell.

I went to bed last night still somewhat wondering what was going to happen, when the dreaded It was going to happen. I felt even more uncomfortable than my usual uncomfortable lately. I laid down and thought about my recent severe pain flare and how it started the day I decided It for real needed to happen. I thought about all my stomach pain and anxiety. I thought about how much I’ve come to dread time together—not because I detest Him, but because I am a horrible liar and I know my face has to be telling on me. And I just can’t fake it. I can’t put us all through any more.

I woke up this morning and my very first thought was that today is The Day. There is no more stringing any of this along. There is no more dreading It, because It IS going to happen, and then It would be over.

My chest felt squeezed most of the day. I had thought back on many things. I won’t list my reasons here, but I thought about them today. As much as breakups are hard, as much as I know this is going to hurt him and that hurts me, and as much as this won’t be easy, I also know that It’s right. It is the right choice for all of us.

So. Here It goes…

[moonshineniki]

Thrivin’ Survivor, That Is Me

You’d think that knowing that I am strong, plus surviving some of the hardest things one could experience in life would automatically make me fearless, right? Wrong.  

I’m facing a breakup. Lord knows that isn’t easy. After almost 3 years of dedication, 2 sets of children, and 1 combined household, I’m pretty much dreading “the talk” happening. How is that though? How is that so scary when I have been through so much—and survived?! 

I’ve been sexually abused multiple times since I was a kid. I have had children as a teenager, gotten married a week after I turned 17 to a man that turned into a raging, abusive drug addict, and endured several years of mental, emotional, sexual, and physical abuse during that marriage. I have watched my then husband overdose, almost die, and recuperate—only to watch it happen all over again. I have battled chronic pain more than half my life that is at times crippling. I have held my infant daughter as her life support was turned off and she took her last breath, battled CPS, and pieced my life back together after meth. I have gotten through being homeless, jobless, and broke. I have battled court systems. I have battled people that wish me harm. And I have battled my own inner demons.

Nothing quite feels as terrifying as one’s husband hitting her in a rage, making her fear and know her life is in danger. Nothing feels as heartbreaking as laying one’s child on a hospital bed and turning away knowing one will never get to pick her baby up again and smell her scent, feel her warmth, nurture her at her breast, or hear her sweet cry again. Nothing is as hard as having to fight for one’s children against a government agency with a vendetta. And yet, I’ve been through all of that and survived and come out on top. I’ve not just survived, but I have thrived!

Even with that being the short list, I’m reading back over it and now sitting here wondering, how the hell am I afraid of a little breakup??? I need to just face it head on. Ready, set, go. 3, 2, 1, takeoff. Get it done, woman. There’s no way in hell that this is what suddenly breaks me! I am STRONG! I am powerful! I am woman—HEAR ME ROAR!!

.

[moonshineniki]

She Kicks A Little Ass, Even If Crying While Doing So

Being such a tender soul is my biggest strength, my biggest weakness, and my biggest flaw—all in one. It makes me extremely empathetic. It makes me the kind of person that would give the shirt off my back to someone more in need of it. It makes me cry for other’s pain, share in other’s joy, and understand others’ frustration. Unfortunately, it also makes me easy to use, take advantage of, and hurt. I hand the entire world the keys to my heart as my giant heart is always on my sleeve. I care deeply, hurt richly, and love intensely. I’m one of the few. I’m set apart. Being unique is supposed to be a good thing, but it’s painful. I long for others to truly understand me. I long to be loved like I love others. I long to be cherished for being this kind of person.

I wish all too often that I could shut off my heart. I wish that I did not get so easily wrapped up in others. I wish that I didn’t automatically feel so much for others that I click with because I end up with a broken heart way more often that I should allow myself to. Whether it is friendship, a romantic interest, and even family, I get let down by the teeter-totter effect of emotion. I don’t want to be affected this much. I don’t want to be pained over others that don’t even let me cross their minds. I am so sick and fucking tired of crying over the effect of other’s actions and the hold they have on me.

Where do I go from here? I’m on the precipice of change. Once again, it is a big, life changing moment upon me. And what do I do about it? In private, I cry and grieve over all that I cannot control. Hot tears well up and spill. But as weak as I feel with tenderness, I also know that I get up each day and take on the world because I am strong. I may hurt inside but I put a smile back on my face, feel renewed hope and strength, and each and every single day of my life, I kick a little ass. I may not be able to fix how much my heart cares or how others treat me or accept me, but one thing I know is that I absolutely can control that I will not be broken by the world. I will not be bitter. I Will. Not. Be. Defeated.

[moonshineniki]

I’m a Feeler. <--Sounds Creepy, Doesn’t It?

I am a feeler. Just like the title says. I’m not just intensely emotional, but I’m emotional to the point of wearing my heart on my sleeve and incapable of hiding it. Sounds like it sucks, doesn’t it? Well, often it does.

 You know those times you blow someone off, and just hope they get the point? Well, I’m that person that has convinced herself that there could be a million legitimate reasons for why you’re not texting back, and I just continue to believe. I will believe that your dog is lost and your kid is sick and your car broke down. I will believe that your phone has died, that you have no reception, and that you didn’t hear your phone for six hours in a row. In desperate circumstances, I’ll believe that your long lost great uncle is suddenly calling, that your phone got destroyed in a crazy toilet accident, and that you’re suddenly sick with food poisoning (like that makes your phone sick too).

 Do you get the point? With people like me, you just have to be honest. People like me will have forever faith in others because we feel so intensely that we couldn’t string someone else along knowing his or her heart is involved, so we assume others can’t either.

 With others, I put myself in their shoes far too often. I think of how they are thinking. I think of how they might be feeling. And largely, I think of how they are perceiving me. People like me think that all of you are also people like us too. We are mistaken far too often. We are taken advantage of. We are used for the big hearts we have to offer. We are pained by the little things that you give little thought to. We hurt big. Cry big. Smile big. And feel happy big.

 Welcome to a tiny peak into my world, folks. There’s so more much here than your first glance would know I have to offer. But it definitely starts with how much I feel.

[moonshineniki]

#Truth

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[moonshineniki]

I Live My Life In Song Lyrics

I sit here at my newly delivered dining room table—with its beautiful finish, bar height, 8 chairs, and gorgeous 7 feet in length to write this blog. This impressive, brand new lovely wood warmth feels great to sit at, but that’s as good as the feelings get tonight. I sit here with a heavy heart. I sit here with a mind going a million miles an hour with hurt. I sit here ready to purge.

It’s funny how blogs give way to brutal honesty. Anonymity is incredibly freeing. It’s often truth telling honesty, poured freely from anonymous bleeders like myself because of its freedom. This freedom from pressure to constantly look, perform, and sound like I have my shit together 100% gives me the allowance to unashamedly tell my story. So here goes. . .

It was at this brand new table that my family was able to comfortably sit for a dinner together in this house for the first time. I was so excited coming home, knowing we were able to pay off our 90 day layaway just in the nick of time, to know we were going to have actual conversation over dinner together tonight. I was in high spirits. For a moment, life felt good. But it didn’t take long for it to be destroyed.

The entire mood of the house soured quickly in the instant Mr. Man decided he was going to throw a tantrum—something that happens with about as much regularity as I need to change my clothes. The tantrums have gotten old and so frequent that the mood of the entire house dims once it starts.

I move away out of sight from all to allow my face a moment to adjust to my frustration (to not look as annoyed as I feel). I swallow hard, take a few deep breaths, and intentionally relax the tale telling muscles in my face. But it doesn’t take long for me to feel overwhelmed. Feeling like I’m walking through cement and am tired because I’ve done this same stretch of trudging for I don’t even know how many days in a row.

The TV gets turned off and some light 80’s and 90’s country plays on Pandora as we gather at the new table set for dinner. The kids are talking but I feel the tension. I feel tired. Am I really going through this again? Am I watching my relationship unravel before my eyes? Am I continuing to fight for something that is crumbling away despite my efforts?

I quietly eat my food as Faith Hill’s voice begins over the speakers, ♪“Baby, tell me where’d you ever learn to fight without sayin’ a word…”♪ I feel tears sting my eyes. ♪“Then waltz back into my life like it’s all gonna be alright, don’t you know how much it hurts?” ♪

I focus on relaxing my facial expressions.♪ “When we don’t talk, when we don’t touch, when it doesn’t feel like we’re even in love...it matters to me.”♪ I blink back hot tears as I see the disconnect between me and Mr. Man. I see it in this moment. I see it every day. ♪“When I don’t know what to say, don’t know what to do, don’t know if it really even matters to you.”♪ He doesn’t even look my direction as I sit there in silence, choking down the food that my stomach has no desire to take in. ♪“Maybe I still don’t understand the distance between a woman and a man. So tell me how far it is, and how you can love like this, ‘cause I’m not sure I can…”♪ I am barely in control of my emotions and the song seemingly speaks about my life.

My children start in with going around the table and asking what the best part of everyone’s day was. This is a game I started when they were little just to get them to communicate with me and show them that I am interested in their days. My daughter’s big brown eyes look up at me as it’s my turn. “Mommy, what was the best part of your day?” I ponder for a moment and tell her, the best part of my day was when I was coming home. I was excited to be off work. I was thrilled that the new table was coming and that we could finally eat together as a family. I was excited to know my new country CD had arrived and was looking forward to just relaxing and being with my loves. I left out how my happiness and good spirits came to a screeching halt when the grown up tantrums began. My answers pleased her though and I was relieved when the focus was off of me and on to the next person at the table. My heart was being squeezed. It is hard to hide my pain from my children. It’s hard to feel that pain period.

I feel intense pressure to make everything okay all the time. I fear letting down my babies after I’ve already put them through so much in life. My bright, caring, beautiful children are depending on me for their stability and yet I can’t seem to keep it all together. It is the weight of the entire world on my shoulders as I smile through the hurt at them.

I sat there contemplating all that is my life currently. Are we going to end? Are we going to survive? Am I fighting the inevitable? It’s the pong that goes on in my mind daily lately. When is it worth fighting for? When is it worth giving up? Am I lying to myself?

The country music continues with George Strait and I feel some relief when the mood relaxes at the table and the kids talk happily amongst themselves. I think it’s going to be okay, I tell myself. ♪”...And if you’ll buy that, I’ll throw the Golden Gate in free.”♪