#i can literally remember the day that it became a phobia of mine because in bio class we were reading an exerpt about a womans symptoms | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-fiction-witch · 6 years ago

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Okay...

I understand Tumblr has changed its community Guidelines and oddly enough I am going to add my two cents to it I suppose even though 90 % of tumblr does not give a dam hell what I have to say about it.

Okay lets begin

Point number one:

I as someone had been on tumblr a very long time almost eight years now I understand why this has happened, the world has changed alot since I has my first account on here I mean I was very young when I had my first account it was just a fan account where I blogged Lord of the rings art and gifs, and I understand why this has decision was made by the staff to try to make there app more ‘pg’ lets say, Okay I understand

Point number two:

I said I understand I did not say I agree with it, I know as quiet a big tumblr fan fic writer I’m likely not the best person for saying so but... I think people online should be allowed to see things like, Nudity and smut and all that stuff, Why? you ask? Well Because I was I know when it comes to sexy kinda stuff I was kinda the opposite of sheltered as a child my parents are swingers and have pretty much always been open about it, they have had nude art and such on the walls in there bedroom for as long as I can remember and I know there is this whole thing about how kids or young people can access things on the internet that are over 18 because you know lieing exists and there are ways to get around things, there always will be the second a rule is there two seconds later how to get around it exists and I Personally think there is nothing wrong with that.

Point two and a half: [I realized two was getting kinda ranty]

But I think kids Should be exposed to things, Not like kids from five should be shown like rule 34, but I think kids and young people are a heck of a alot smarter then any 20-40 year old realizes, Kids are all different they are all sexually awakened at different times in there life [for example I know I was a literally 11 and I have a best friend who wasn't till she was 18] people are different and I think things like Smut and Nudes are not exactly for kids no but... they are a part of life and sheltering them isnt going to help them understand I mean I got lucky I grew up in a family that had 50′s pin up on the walls and watched the rocky horror picture show in the living room I understood what sex was from a young age and how it worked between consenting adults I didn't Practice it Obviously and I didn't know the exact details [look at my older work and see if I understood how the heck sex worked] but I think people make those decisions I mean yeah random porn showing up on a timeline yeah maybe stop that that’s kinda a problem but if you search for Boobs or Porn or Smut whatever you know what your getting and if you make the decision to type those letters to spell that word then you made the decision to see what you see or read what you read, you chose to do that tumblr didn't when you typed in I don’t know Loki didn't randomly take you to porn unless you specifically told it to or unlocked it,

Point three:

Why? as I said I understand the choice tumblr staff have made but if you search something and have safe search on then yeah don’t show nude pics or things tagged as porn or even my stuff I wouldn't expect someone who typed newt with there safe search on i imagine most of my stuff wouldn’t turn up I as a creator and even audience member here I understand that but I think it again comes back to choice if you chose to unlock the search you understand what comes with that and if you don’t then your the one that needs to be fixed not tumblr.

Point four: Likely my big point

I came to tumblr when I was fairly young, my god when tumblr was fairly young because mostly I wanted to be as informed and aware as my big sister my older sister showed me tumblr so I could see cool gifs of doctor who and lord of the rings and find people just like me who also loved to watch and read. when I first came here I was still a young girl and I didn't know how big the 18+ side of tumblr was I didn't care all I cared about was the amazing people and when I first began to dream about being a writer, everyone I knew even my family laughed at me said because of my disability I could never be a author, But I changed my URL and posted one of the first things I ever wrote on to tumblr with no fear of being judged or being laughed at and now when I go back and read it I know it’s awful I was terrible back then but... people where kind to me. said how I could improve and where with me every step of my way, that account is still there now I have just moved a little bit to here where I have been now for several years and I love it.

It’s amazing to me now as a almost 20 year old woman to sit on my computer, have my own physical novels sat on a shelf next to me, without tumblr I would not have became a real writer and would not now be able to live off doing it an live comfortably even, When I came here with my first ever work A girl we can’t understand I was awful but I had big dreams the people here have made me into who I am now and have made me be able to do such amazing things with my life, I never came here to be a problem to tumblr or even to be popular I make no money from tumblr but I still post almost everyday or as much as I can...why?

Because I love it here,

I love being able to make people happy to be able to create worlds for people to lose themselves in even if its just for a little while.

I love every single one of the people who read my work even if you don’t like or dont follow or anything like that anyone who reads what I post I thank you for taking the time to read it, as I said I do this purely for the love of doing it.

But... Tumblr has changed.

maybe I am a dinosaur here now I guess but Tumblr I have a little message for you...

Dear Tumblr, To all your staff, your users and your creator.

I know in your grant scheme I am a small foot note. I understand the choices you have made to the site and I respect your decision as it is yours to make. However I don’t see how blocking and reporting people like myself and other users like me who just want to make people happy or feel better after a bad day is the best way to be, I have been here for a long time and I have seen some awful things on this site, but nudity or smut or anything has never been one of them. I have seen things like racism, homophobia, trans phobia, extremism and as a user I have tried my best to report and help your algeritherum to grow to make this site better. But Tumblr your views have changed and you have every right to change them, I have grown up with you tumblr and I am... concerned about what you are becoming. it is your choice to make this site into something different then what it was, But I beg of you

When I came here I was an outcast. Not pretty enough for Instagram and snap chat, not funny enough for twitter, not frenziedly enough for Facebook, I and I know so many others who came here because we are outcasts who fit nowhere else in this internet world. I have so many friends many of which I have even met in real life now because of you tumblr, but with people left and right upset about this and threatening to leave because you deiced to change

Please tell me... where are we meant to go? we are the outcasts here always have been tumblr kids the ones who are different but if we lose this place we call home we will have nowhere to go, and I would hate to see people like I was have nowhere to go people who where like me when I got here, Alone.

So... Dearest tumblr, You have meant the world to me, I have gathered friends with you, made a life though you, I have even had my life saved by the people here to many times to count,

My boyfriend and I where here on my old account we had to separate for a bit but run this together like we used to and its a massive part of our lives even our relationship

But I am clearly not what you want anymore. so I say here and now I will try to continue my work here but if my posts continue to be reported and blocked then I will go.

If you still want my work I will keep it here but I will always update and write on my

Wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/user/FictionalReality010

and I will also re open my tapas:

https://tapas.io/FictionalLiving

and If you are a friend of mine I am shearing my Instagram here becuase I don’t wan’t to lose any of you

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/amberjane010/?hl=en

Good Bye

I love all of you so much and I am so so sorry.

X Amber & Thomas

#Dear tumblr #goodbye #whatifwecouldbefiction #whatifwecouldbecaomefiction #i'm sorry #im so sorry #writers on tumblr #tumblr

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allenmendezsr · 4 years ago

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– Sick and Tired of Wasting Money on Expensive skin “care” products that just DON’T Work

– Applying countless creams and lotions on your face for it to only cause MORE breakouts, and even flaky skin

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In my early teen years, oily skin was never a problem for me. I really didn’t pay much attention to how my skin or hair looked back then. As long as my hair was silky smooth, I was happy and content.

Next thing I know, puberty happened.

I became more self conscious about my physical appearance as more and more pimples started to surface on my face. It was all completely new to me, my skin was also visibly red and looked irritated ALL the time. Not only that, but I also noticed the amount of “shine” on my skin became more apparent. My skin and my hair became increasingly oily. It really wasn’t a pleasant sight to see, and it’s a terrible feeling to feel dirty in your own skin. I would constantly look into mirrors to check up on my skin throughout the day only to feel disgusted at myself even more. It was a bad habit of mine and I eventually avoided mirrors completely because all they ever seemed to do was put me down and ruin my day.

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Nothing was working.

After what seemed like years of trying so many different skin products, I finally decided to bring it up with my doctor to see if he could help me. He prescribed me an antibiotic (Minocycline) along with a topical antibiotic (Clindamycin). And when that also failed to work for me, he then referred me to a dermatologist.

The dermatologist prescribed me Accutane, which is considered the “last resort” for acne sufferers. I took it over a period of 6 months. It cleared up my acne and my skin was pretty much free from excess oil. Many nights I even stayed up really late and surprisingly found my skin to be just fine and only slightly oily. I thought that was the end of my skin problems, but a few months later I started to notice that the oil was coming back and my hair would also get really oily in the morning. I didn’t mind this at first because my skin was still clear from acne, but THAT also started to come back in full force in mere months after the oil started to reappear. I have also developed Claustrophobia and social anxiety, which I honestly believe was caused by Accutane as other members on Acne.org’s messageboards have reported similar side effects and even chronic depression and suicidal thoughts. Have a look at this study on Accutane’s potential damaging effect on the brain http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/15863802?dopt=Abstract

This phobia is something I am STILL dealing with up until this day, though it is definitely not as bad as it was 3 years ago. I live my life quite normally, but I still have panic attacks every now and then, so I still haven’t completely overcome this condition of mine.

But back to the story.. a little over a year after I got off Accutane, my acne eventually starting slowly clearing up on its own. It may have very well been the end of puberty for me, but I was still left with oily, greasy skin that I just couldn’t stand having to deal with every single day. As embarrassing as it is, below is an actual picture I took (at night) to see how many oil blotting sheets I could fill up with excess oil from my face in one go. I’m going to apologize in advance if you find it disturbing..

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aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years ago

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Life Story Part 44

In early November there was a Sanborn family reunion down in Southern Idaho. My uncle Bob arrived, Marty, Uncle Steve his wife Sylvia, some cousins, my half uncle Adam. But mostly, my grandma Betty. Really, other than my uncle Bob, nobody in my dad's family took much interest in keeping in touch, but everyone knew and cared about her. I was a bit shocked, because seeing her made me realize just how old she was getting. She had been old when I knew her as a child – when she had lived upstairs and I would go to visit, reluctantly swallowing down her toxic mixture of canned peaches and cottage cheese (her favorite food), holding her hand and pressing against her thick veins under paper thin skin as we sat on the couch and watched Bob Ross together, but now she was beginning to reach a new level of feebleness and at times seemed confused over very basic facts of life. I guess I had taken her for granted in a way, assuming she would always stay the same. She was just as sweet as she had ever been though, and was very happy to see everyone. She was confused as to why my hair was now black. I had to explain to her that dyeing your hair was a thing. My father dominated much of the living room conversation for those several days. And I honestly felt very bored for a large portion of the week. I mostly remember bits and pieces of the visit, and most of those memories are exclusive to my grandma. That, and my Aunt Gayle made this casserole, which seemed as though it would be tasty, and was, but had more hair in it than any food I had ever put in my mouth. Honestly, eventually Allison, David and I were pulling out hairballs, and we had to secretly scoop it into the garbage.

For Thanksgiving, my mother had a very nice set up for us. It was kind of surprising coming from her after all these years. My mother is actually a masterful homemaker, having been a stay at home mom who sewed and cooked and the like for a decade before she started dating my dad. And she had done very similar things for a few years she had been pregnant in the 90's. So my mom could set up a very good Thanksgiving. I ended up having Thanksgiving at her place, but then came back to Kendrick that night and threw it all up. I have horrible luck with having the stomach flu for holidays, and it almost feels like more than a mere coincidence.

Mostly my life felt horrible and empty though. Things weren't good, but they weren't terrible for me either. But I almost found this new kind of emptiness even worse. Certain things never get better for me. There is always a level of discontent and loss, and even when I find ways to get happy, or even jovial and off the wall excited, there is rarely ever a time when the melancholy has ever left. It's like a fog. There have only been a small number of instances when I could shut down enough or feel truly touched enough to surpass that. I sometimes call it the Adults, like a disease. You can't stop wanting things, but if you ever stop to look into your inner self, it's hard to figure out why. If your like me, you will fret anxiously, even in a state of calm, even if you are content, nothing is ever put right. If you get what you want, you will always just want something else, or get distracted by another want. And the repetition of days, weeks, years is all life turns out to be, and there is a feeling of nausea in being alive. You forget more than you will ever know, and the things you do remember never stay pure. So even though 9th grade was tougher on me than 10th, what with the abuse from my father, Jason, Ava ruining things for me, there was always an objective or even a delusion that there was paradise on the other side. Age 15 gave me this strong impression that there was no other side. If I got to the other side, I would only want to return, and so on and so forth. There was never any real satisfaction.

I would spend a lot of these monotonous times at Sarah's place. We would do anything we could to keep ourselves entertained. I often tried to instigate doing something new or over the top. Sarah usually didn't want to do anything, but if the goal wasn't too absurd – like walking ten miles into the woods at night, something I had suggested – just to get a taste for real danger that I was so dearly lacking, she would go along with it eventually. I made up this game where we couldn't let a single car see us. We would rent movies down at the store before it closed. Generally these movies were very boring and dull. I would often get far more frightened of horror movies than Sarah, even dumb ones like Jeepers Creepers. In fact, Jeepers Creepers made it very hard for me to walk alone at night, and I always had this sense that I would be walking alone at night and I would see that vintage vehicle with the horrific horn coming in my direction, so at times, I would literally run from the main road to not be spotted by any vehicle and it almost became a phobia to be seen by people or vehicles at night. I feel like a combination of being in no position to help myself, and being bored out of my wits, I half drove myself crazy.

Sarah and I also played a fair deal of chess. I was always lost. I always worried that it meant that I might in fact be much stupider than Sarah. Or maybe not stupider, but more impulsive. Not that I really felt that it was a contest, but there has always been a part of me that compared myself to others. It's not that I greatly enjoy feeling better than everyone else. It has more to do with the fact that I have never liked feeling ordinary, when I am in fact, believe it or not quite ordinary at times. And drawing was even worse. I've said it before, but sometimes, when Sarah and I were drawing together, I would feel like a lousy artist. Sarah's pictures were beginning to pop out of the page. Her line work and her shadowing were much better than mine. She could draw realistic. She could draw people from above, below, in midair, and so forth. And honestly, I drew and drew but it was always the same picture somehow. I felt very trapped in this cycle, and I don't know how many times I crinkled the paper as I was drawing, upset that I was getting no better despite how many attempts I made. I felt like I was watching Sarah grow wings, and fly away, leaving me earthbound. She didn't even seem to try. It just seemed like her abilities flowed out of her unconsciously. And the more effort I put into the art, the flatter and less inspired my art became.

Around this time, the movie 'Ray' about Ray Charles came out, and there was a distinct memory I have of sitting around this handmade kiln and fire pit that Sarah's mom built outside behind the house, not far from the cliff area. Sarah and I were roasting shishkabobs with chicken and vegetables on them, and we were eating them up. And after that, we went inside and watched Ray, played chess and I went to sleep. I would almost stay that I was at Sarah's home around 1/3 of the time at this point.

I was always looking for Zack. I seemed to sense his presence when he drove into Kendrick, and one lonely dark Friday night that would typically be spent watching a bad movie or me getting upset, I got the sense that Zack was close by. I begged Sarah to walk with me to find him. I didn't want to seem to desperate, but I just somehow knew he was in this very obscure area at the end of town that neither Sarah or I had any business being at. It was hard to explain the feeling, but it might be what the spider feels when a bug gets caught in it's web. It was a rainy night, and it was beginning to get cold again, the wind blowing. Sarah was not up for the weather, but I convinced her to come with me anyway. And I was right. Just as we were about to turn around and walk back, I saw Zack in the distance, entering into a strange empty garage building. He seemed to be fixing a vehicle, though I don't recall any of the details of what for or who's it was. He was all alone in this building, just working. He ended up seeing us, and enthusiastically waving us in. We hadn't seen him in nearly two months, other than maybe a few times in five minute increments.

It was at this point, where I, full of susceptibility, fell under his conspiracy theories. He spent three or four hours explaining to us that there were freemasons who controlled our entire planet. He made wildly inaccurate claims that I didn't know enough to dispute. He claimed to have done all this research. And honestly, I had no way of saying he hadn't . I had never even thought of doing 'research' on anything before, and I always assumed that the word itself clarified that the findings of that research were accurate. Actually, to be honest, I was closed minded enough and annoyed by school that I didn't think it was even a decent thing for a person to be doing. He talked about how they invented war, and poverty, and schools and prisons. They had levels, and some of them were in the police, some where teachers and others could just be your neighbors. They were all hiding within society, watching for people like us, and doing what they could to systematically prevent us from reaching our full potential. As he talked and talked, a web of power began to form in my mind. It wasn't something I quite understood, and some of my questions of why seemed weak. Basically, though, it really sunk in in big fact-blocks that I failed to question. Freemasons were controlling the entire world. And many of the things that happened in my life could be deconstructed and understood as outside manipulative forces pulling strings.

I feel a little ashamed to explain how invested I became in these conspiracy theories, the websites, the misinformation and the inconsistencies. The precursors to Alex Jones an all of that. Of course many of the conspiracy theorists were left wing as well as right, and I was too young and naive to really know what it meant to sort through it all. I really do understand what it is like to live with that foreboding sense of knowing that the world is out to get you and there are people who are pulling the strings. But at the time, this is the reality I now lived in. I am sure if someone had psychologically broke down my psyche at that stage in my life, they would have revealed that there was a psychological need to cling to these conspiracy theories. And it can also be said that some of the skepticism I started to have towards the world actually did me some good. There are some facts I learned in my exploration for the truth behind the veil. Prescott Bush was a fascist, Martin Luther King was likely assassinated by our own government, the media really is owned by six corporations, research really has been hidden from the public, and there really are there rich families in the world that pull strings to increase their wealth. It was a good attitude to take to the war on terror, the war on drugs later on. I can't entirely say it was all bad. But believing that the government has time machines, or that the government has the cure to every single disease and simply has suppressed it to that level, the moon landing is a hoax, fluoride in the water is turning us all to zombies, The Rothschild family are trillionaires, there are cameras in our microwaves, and the neighbor is watching me – this stuff is embarrassing to admit that I fell into.

When I left that night, I felt really strange. Sort of empty, and helpless, but also very aware, and also kind of hollowed out. I remember one of the last things Zack said to me before leaving that night. He told me that the only thing that the government could never control were artists. Nobody could ever control what I choose to put down on paper, be it writing, or art. This gave me this vague sense of purpose. I was already strongly along the path of resisting school, resisting adults, and authority in general, but now it was almost a moral incentive to disregard the social order as a whole, and to never trust anyone again who wasn't Zack, or Sarah. And sadly this really closed my mind and made me rather mentally unstable.

I started getting really into The Doors. I especially thought Jim Morrison was cool – for obvious reasons, among those, he was a poet and seemed to be edgy and rebellious and at the same time ethereal mystical and he was dead and spelled one of the things we consider when we look at the end of the 60's era. And he was nothing like me in many ways. Where I was clumsy, unmysterious, trapped and cautious, Jim Morrison was not. And he was beautiful. I was never into his looks personally, but he did radiate a certain beauty with a fair amount of effortlessness. I could never achieve balancing on the fine line that he balanced upon. Jim Morrison in his time lived in a different plain of existence than I did. I would often wish that I had lived during the sixties rather than the 21st century, and I think in an attempt to be more like those I admired, I stopped washing my hair to be like Kurt Cobain and my interpretation of many of the counter culture icons I thought seemed legit. I heard from someone that Jim Morrison never changed his pants. I actually don't know if this is actually true or not, but my English teacher told me that her college friend's uncle's friend knew Jim and that he would go several months without cleaning his pants, which gave them this soft slickness that was almost disturbing to the touch.

So I decided to follow suit and never wash my pants. It also didn't help that my few pairs of jeans that I owned had holes all over. They never fit me right, and the bottoms of them dragged on the ground and caused them to split up the leg eventually, and walking eroded the jeans between my legs. I had to wear tights under my jeans to not feel nude, and my father didn't see the need to buy me jeans that actually fit or were of high quality, or even at all really. So in a sense, I might have been trying to embrace my poverty and the perceived dirtiness people felt that I had always embodied. So I had dyed pink hair that was full of grease all the time, dirty torn up pants (not the trendy kind of torn), an angry look on my face with tons of black eyeliner, and a mind abuzz with conspiracies – most of it being childishly distant from anything resembling reality. I think I remember crying nervously one cold night looking at the power outlet on the wall – thinking that maybe, just maybe freemasons were looking at me through that mysterious electrical outlet. These are the kinds of things I am not proud to admit happened, and I am glad they are over.

My father at this time was really invested in his girlfriend Patty down in Boise – maybe more so or just as much as he had been with Jodi, and I think the notion that she was sitting on a million dollars, and seemed classier than he was made him feel ashamed of his life up in North Idaho with his lower middle class wages. He felt like a menial factory cog with no education courting a millionaire. And truth be told, he was tired of being a father altogether. He felt very strongly that we prevented him from moving forward with his life, or at least he propped us up in that way. He hated me for growing up. He felt I looked too much like my mother, and he just seemed to hate me half the time, but couldn't fully express it. His annoyance at having to be a father in general was growing. And he began telling Allison, David and I that he was considering moving to Boise and leaving us behind. His foolish plan was to give my mom the house that he had bought for her all those years anyway, and leave all of us behind. This didn't upset me in the least. First of all, I didn't believe it would actually happen at all. Plus, though I had issues with my mom for sure, with the absence of my father also went the absence of feeling stressed out and the feeling that I should be ashamed of myself. I felt like in many ways, as crazy as my mom was, I would be liberated mentally as well as physically. Plus, my father had already disappointed me. It wasn't a great shock to be abandoned. It was a fact of life really. There was an element of chaos honestly to the idea of him leaving for good that I felt I could thrive in.

This news broke my little brother's heart though. He looked up to my father, and it permanently damaged a sense of confidence he had in our father, but when you are a small child, that sense of abandonment spreads to everything around you. He felt like my father had just emotionally abandoned him and had never really loved him to begin with. Even if it never came to pass, the fact that my father was so invested in the idea of leaving us all behind as to tell us early to buffer the results was the greatest betrayal. I think Allison, having always been overlooked by both me and David felt a cold sort of distance with the situation, but she also felt abandoned.

It was around this time that the Nirvana Box set, 'With the Lights Out' came out. I was incredibly excited about it. And when Sarah and I both got our box sets, we listened to the songs over and over again. Some of my favorites were 'They Hung Him On a Cross', Verse Chorus Verse' and 'Don't Want It All'. One weekend, I came back from my mom's and Sarah told me that she had picked up the guitar and had learned a song from the box set. I was immediately a little shaken with jealousy about this. I still didn't really know any songs. I didn't understand tablature. I kept practicing the things my father told me to on the guitar, but I felt that there was something I wasn't getting, and there was no further way for me to pick it up. My dad told me if I didn't get 'it' on my own, than I never would. I was hoping for something more constructive and encouraging. And Sarah had never played guitar before. Her father had randomly bought her one – probably stole it from someone who he lied to about his identity (a common trick of his). And she learned 'Opinion' by Nirvana. She just, picked up a guitar, learned four chords and was already better than me. She also sang, and it seemed really awesome to me.

Honestly, I had so little to be proud of, and I had been meagerly hoping to get better somehow, and it hadn't happened. I had been working tirelessly to get better, but I was lost. And I couldn't draw that well anymore in comparison to Sarah either. Something inside of me had become emotionally stuck. It was something psychological, and I didn't know how to get over it. It was something instilled in me from Ava and my father and just the school in general. I could put a pen to paper but I couldn't seem to create anything. I could strum a guitar, but music never seemed to be what happened. And Sarah in many ways was naive and childish about the world. She had never had much serious pain in her life aside from a vague empty depression that she mostly was able to ignore. So it was a great insult to me and everything I was trying to hold onto. That the world punishes people and molds them into something finer. Instead, I felt like the misery I had thus far experienced was making me weaker somehow, and I was meant to watch Ava move on to do great things in her life, and Sarah to be admired. And thus I was immediately poisoned by envy that I couldn't shake. Not only was I not confident enough to perform six months after secretly playing, but I could never have done it with confidence in a single weekend like she did. And she not only played the guitar, she sang and well. She played faster than me, and it all happened with a seemingly effortless magic about it. I was crushed and humiliated. I felt sick with myself, but I had no formula to defeat my own failings. I went home and felt this self loathing frustration. I cried and screamed in my pillow. I couldn't exactly hate Sarah, because she had never wronged me, and she was my only friend. But I was beginning to resent myself whenever I was in her presence.

I later realized that part of the reason I might have been struggling as a guitarist was because I am left handed and I was playing right handed guitar. It made strumming, particularly finger picking a little more difficult.

My mother moved out of Jim and Connie's, and she started house watching for this woman named Linda, who was gone for several weeks at a time to watch over a hot springs resort that she partially owned that was five hours away. So I got to stay in her nice house for a bit. It was a mediocre home for the most part actually, but it was very nice by the standards that I was used to. They had cable television and three bedrooms. There were two Labradors that lived there, who were very nice. It was nice and cozy, and there was food to eat. Outside was beginning to be winter. I remember watching all of Forest Gump for the first time since I was young, and realizing that the movie was actually kind of silly. I had just assumed that Forest Gump's life was completely realistic when I was younger. Also, I decided to use their phone and call Sarah. I didn't realize this, but I ended up costing Linda a whole bunch of money, because I stayed on the phone with Sarah for six hours at a time. It was quite common for me in those days to stay on the phone with friends for that long. And strangely enough, I don't think I ever met Linda. I might have, but it was years previous to the house sitting.

I think we had Christmas at Linda's but I cannot be sure. I know we ended up having New Year's there. There was a major fight between my father and mother during that time, and up to that point for the most part the two of them had done well to avoid dealing with one another in any way. Basically, what I remember was – my mom wanted to have my father take us kids for New Year's since her and Danny were going to go out and she didn't want us around. It was her time to have us, and my father felt put out by this, since he felt like he had taken us every time she wanted to drink or anything during the holidays for years, so he told her no. This enraged her and she lost her shit completely. She ended up telling us all she was going to have him thrown in prison for it. I felt this was incredibly flaky. So, as I mentioned clear back in part 1 or part 2 of this story, my older half sister made up that my father had molested her, when in fact he had not. Roxanne later admitted to me that he hadn't, and given that, for all my father's faults he never seemed to have a pedophilia aspect to his personality at all, I tend to feel like this is complete and total confirmation that nothing ever happened.

My mother had selectively decided not to care about the whole ordeal. She might have cared when she first heard about it, but later on, she still would leave us kids with my dad, and at times didn't even seem to hold it against him, that he potentially had raped her daughter. Early on, her and Roxanne had both let him babysit Sagen, Roxanne's daughter. So it always seemed a little fishy to me for that reason as well. Nobody in their right mind would selectively not care about something like this. Of course, Roxanne knew she had lied, so her selective lack of concern made some sense. My mom however, had decided not to accept it when Roxanne told us that she had lied. She still chose to believe the molestation had in fact happened. So when she didn't care about what my father had done, she did so from a very selfish place – if that is, she truly believed in the molestation to begin with.

So, she made some phone calls. I don't know who she called exactly, but I believe it is some kind of hotline to report crimes of this nature. Her plan was to extract revenge on our dad for what she figured he had done years ago. And all of this was based on him not wanting to take us for New Years Eve. She literally wanted to get him thrown in prison for not taking us for a New Years, that is how petty and fucked up she was/is. Even though my father was not a grand person to me a lot of the time, I really believe that people should be charged with the crimes they committed rather ones that they have not committed. And this was her card to play, that she had felt she had had for years if my father didn't do what she wanted.

She explained to us that we might never see our father again, as she believed that as soon as she made this phone call, police were going to find my father and hold him in custody. She called Roxanne and told her that she would give Roxanne a lot of money if Roxanne would testify against my father in court. I am not sure what Roxanne's response to any of this was. This plan my mother was hatching really was all her ego flaring out of control, angry at the mere notion of having been told 'no' and therefore disappointing Danny. The people who my mom spoke to over the phone, only based off what they heard my mother tell them, explained to her that too much time had passed for him to be convicted. If it had happened, it would have been in the 80's. They were extremely apologetic, and for what it's worth, I think that is a very unfortunate law and they were very sorry. I absently listened to her talk to them over the phone as this all happened. My mother was pissed.

Eventually, Noah left school. He had been a senior set to graduate in a matter of one more semester, but he just decided to drop out. I had gone from being very nice to him, and then when I realized that he had started to have a crush on me, I had decided to be overly rude to him. A part of it was actually just girlish immaturity on my own part. I wasn't used to the idea of someone having a crush on me at all, and rather than face that Noah was also a real person who was capable of having thoughts and feelings, I rejected him entirely because it made me uncomfortable. A part of it too was that I was immaturely blaming him personally for making Zack move. Because he was there, Zack didn't feel like the center of attention any longer. And I was sorry I had set it up that way, but I wasn't mature enough to see it for what it was, and was much happier to blame Noah as if he directly had chosen to ruin things for me. It was a strange psychological blame that made absolutely no sense, but made me feel better. So I took that out on him as well. Also, I legitimately didn't understand what I had done to make him have a crush on me. I never felt like I was hitting on him. I suppose it was because I had no feelings for him really that I was able to be more myself around him, assuming that this wouldn't mean much to him. Instead he had started to grow fond of me. And I figured the only way to undo that was to be a jerk.

I don't remember much of what I said or did, but I spent about a month being really mean towards him on purpose in a manner I was not typically used to being towards anyone else. And I feel a bit badly about that now. It wasn't right. I am sure it came as a shock when I was being so nice to him for a few months, making jokes, questioning him and the like and then cutting him off and acting like he was gross for seemingly no reason. He had perhaps hoped we would become really close friends or more, perhaps carrying that light hearted feeling home with him that I could have related to all too well had I opened my mind to the idea. He had no other friends. And I probably ruined many of his days and nights by being ridiculously mean for no reason. I am sorry he got caught in the cogs of my emotional instability. This isn't to say that I should have given him a chance. I really didn't like him like that. Still, it was certainly not something I am very proud of.

There is only one thing I remember about Christmas that year. And that is this was the day when I discovered David Bowie. My brother David liked the Labyrinth soundtrack with all those memorable David Bowie songs from the film, and because of this my father was reminded of his own fondness for early David Bowie. So he decided to buy David 'The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars' for Christmas. After everyone opened their gifts, we put the album on to listen to. I had expected I wouldn't like it. I was hesitant to appreciate a man who looked so feminine. I was so brought up by 90's and early 00's butt rock that the idea that someone could be anything, as it felt like David Bowie could be was a strange thing for me to accept.

Then the album started playing. I had never heard anything so pure and perfect in my entire life. As soon as the vocals came in on Five Years 'Pushing through the market square ..' I felt like I was melting into a better something. I felt a new kind of life in me emerging. This sense that I could grow and change. That no one or no anything is one thing or the other. What I partially took from David Bowie was that rebelling didn't have to be something like 'oh, you took the left side, so I took the right side to anger you and oppose you'. David Bowie represented for me at least, a way of looking at the world that was more about free expression not based on defiance, but by this pure enigma of passion for art itself. Nobody could reach you there to put the shackles on you, and you didn't have to do things to insult your oppressors by doing everything opposite to them. I didn't have to not wash up because people who fit into a society better than I did, did bath. By defining myself as some kind of anti version of them, I was in a way still letting them define me. The real way to liberation was to live in a world of such pure inspiration and passion and to live that life shamelessly. My mind had for that last year, gravitated into black and white. David Bowie sort of made my world into a rainbow.

I listened to that album about twenty times on Christmas day alone. It was David's but he wasn't as fixated by Ziggy Stardust as I was. I wanted to look like David Bowie. It didn't seem overly important to me if he was a man or a woman. Those traits seemed secondary to some greater essence of being that radiated off him. Every song on that album was absolutely perfect. But somehow it was also more than just music. Having this album in my life basically changed things for me. It changed how I looked myself in the mirror, it changed my art, the words that came to me when I thought. It really did transcend what David Bowie probably ever intended. It helped cure my feelings of hopelessness. A sense of calm came over me. It didn't fix me per say, but it was the one thread of something I had found to hold onto for an entire year of empty rebellion and empty spirit.

PART 43 - http://tinyurl.com/yckvswd7

PART 42 - http://tinyurl.com/ycnng83q

PART 41 - http://tinyurl.com/y84kmttv

PART 40 - http://tinyurl.com/y8aj6kmq

PART 39 - http://tinyurl.com/y97vprft

PART 38 - http://tinyurl.com/ycr7la8q

PART 37 - http://tinyurl.com/y8trssqd

PART 36 - http://tinyurl.com/y9ygq9q8

PART 35 - http://tinyurl.com/ya5xhe2f

PART 34 - http://tinyurl.com/yc6y4p69

PART 33 - http://tinyurl.com/y87449dz

PART 32 - http://tinyurl.com/ycetanep

PART 31 - http://tinyurl.com/yae3o4rd

PART 30 - http://tinyurl.com/ybht9aul

PART 29 - http://tinyurl.com/ybfcr9j2

PART 28 - http://tinyurl.com/yagdlo47

PART 27 - http://tinyurl.com/ydcj5fgf

PART 26 - http://tinyurl.com/y73nvl73

PART 25 - http://tinyurl.com/y6v6pgoj

PART 24 - http://tinyurl.com/ycak5d8r

PART 23 - http://tinyurl.com/yac6sk3g

PART 22 - http://tinyurl.com/yat6cfnw

PART 21 - http://tinyurl.com/y783egno

PART 20 - http://tinyurl.com/y8jskymt

PART 19 - http://tinyurl.com/rfhbms8

PART 18 - http://tinyurl.com/ycrznrwk

PART 17 - http://tinyurl.com/y77unlng

PART 16 - http://tinyurl.com/yadpsv8c

PART 15 - http://tinyurl.com/yb3lt6k5

PART 14 - http://tinyurl.com/yb4cfedq

PART 13 - http://tinyurl.com/yalanq9s

PART 12 - http://tinyurl.com/yc79mw94

PART 11 - http://tinyurl.com/yc9qhj84

PART 10 - http://tinyurl.com/yb734w24

PART 9 - http://tinyurl.com/yc2t6vfw

PART 8 - http://tinyurl.com/ybl37utq

PART 7 - http://tinyurl.com/ybvo283g

PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8

#text

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bitchfromtheseventhhell · 8 years ago

Text

tagged in some memes

Tagging anyone who wants to do any of these memes!

I - tagged by @gendryxaryatrash

-> What made you sign up to Tumblr? I used to get into gif wars with my college roommates so I needed to be able to gather.

-> What did your blog start off as being? My old blog used to be a hodgepodge of stuff I liked. When I rebuilt I put all ASOIAF content on this sideblog and my main is still a hodgepodge of stuff I like minus ASOIAF.

-> Have you ever received any creepy asks, and if so, what did they say? Not really.

-> Have you ever had a bad experience on tumblr? Yes, several, but I try not to dwell on it because at this point it was years ago and letting it still take up a lot of my thoughts is not worth it.

-> If you had to pick a favourite English monarch, who would you pick? ...I’m not sure I care enough. I guess Elizabeth I because she is one I kinda know things about?

-> Do you prefer hot or cold? Cold

-> Do you have a special skill or talent? Writing. I’m a decent singer. I can whistle through my teeth in a nonstandard whistly way.

-> Do you have a phobia of anything? Heights.

-> If you had to pick a favourite real life villain from history, who would you pick? Honestly most of the evils I see in the world are usually perpetrated by more than one person/not a person at all, so I’m not sure I know how to answer this. Like individuals who do bad is less fascinating than societal ills and how they are enabled if that makes sense.

-> Do you have any dark traits? Probably. Don’t we all?

-> If you could do anything, literally anything, like fly on a unicorn or something, what would it be? Apparating.

-> What is the scale of the worst argument you’ve ever had? IDK. I like debating, so I wouldn’t call arguments a bad thing. Fights can be brutal but fights and arguments aren’t the same in my brain.

-> What is your favourite slush flavour? I don’t think I’ve eaten enough of this to know.

-> If you could bring back any food or drink from your childhood that has been discontinued, what would it be? IDK what they’re called, but there was a strawberry candy I ate a lot that came in a tin and I can’t find it anywhere now D:

-> What is your favourite and most vivid childhood memory? When my dad was driving me and my brother in the rain and we rolled the windows down and stuck our heads out the window and my dad would drive into puddles to splash us.

-> If you could bring anyone back from the dead who would it be? Max or Rachel.

-> If you could go back to any time period and live there for a week, which period would it be and why? Nah. I have no desire to live in the past. I’d rather think about a future in which things are better than they’ve been in the past.

-> If you could visit any abandoned place to take pictures, where would it be? Not really sure. I hope it’s mountainous though.

-> Do you have any particular, peculiar interests? Bulgarian folk music counts probably

-> Do you have a creepy/scary experience that has happened to you, and what was it? Not really

-> Do you like/read creepypasta stories? If so, what’s your favourite story? Not really sure what defines creepypasta tbh.

-> If you were in the Wars of the Roses, would you be a Lancastrian, or a Yorkist? I....am not enough of an Anglophile when it comes to history to care. It’s all fun to watch on TV but I can’t think about it without my historian cap on my head and I just don’t really have enough knowledge to pick a side here.

-> What is your recurring nightmare? I don’t have recurring dreams.

-> Have you ever had a lucid dream? I think so? I’ve at least had a dream where I keep trying to wake up and then wake up but it’s still a dream and then I realize it’s a dream and try to wake up. It was really jarring.

-> If you could go to another planet, which would it be? Mars would be cool. I feel like Venus would be too warm for me.

->What is your religion, if any? I’m Jewish.

-> Have you ever got so drunk, that you did something really embarrassing, and if so, what did you do? I once vomited in one of the main auditoriums at my college during a drunken halloween concert. I became that which I scorned my freshman year.

-> Mike, Dustin, Lucas, or Will? Who??

-> Do you like Marina and the Diamonds? I’ve not aware of who/what this is.

-> Charli XCX? Ditto

-> Tag a blog that you’ve seen, and you love their posts, but have never told them, and would like to talk to them. Oof I’m not sure. I’m slow to follow people, so usually when I do it’s because I feel comfortable talking to them already--or would feel comfortable just being like “Hi I wanna talk to you.”

-> Pick one thing you like/love from the 80s. Hopscotch

-> What year were you born, and name something cool from that year. 1991 - The Fall of the Soviet Union

-> What was your blog name originally? (If you had another blog name) I went by @crossingwinter for a long time because that’s my ao3 handle (I now use it as a fic archive and reblog all my fics over there) on my old main blog. This sideblog used to be @thegoldofwinterfell after I did my rebuild.

-> Do you follow any blogs that you know the user in real life? Yes. Quite a few, actually. Thank fuck I moved most of my fandom participation over here because they don’t see it haha.

-> If you are in the ST fandom, which is your favourite song off the ST soundtrack? No.

-> Finally, give your opinion on the person who tagged you! ✨ @gendryxaryatrash is always so supportive and honestly sometimes I feel like I am spitting things into a void so I’m really grateful to have you as someone who’s always enjoying the things I make since that’s why I make it :D

II - tagged by @savannsahstark

Nickname: Some folks have called me Ceels, but it’s not that frequent.

Zodiac sign: Cancer

Height: 5'5″

Gender: female

Time right now: 11:35 a.m.

Last thing I googled: Double checking that the Soviet Union did in fact dissolve in 1991 (I get it confused with 1989 and the Berlin wall sometimes) (I’m an embarrasment to all historians who’ve studied communism :shame:)

Favourite music artist(s): the Bulgarian State Women’s Vocal Ensemble, Kitka, Jamila Woods, Chance the Rapper, undoubtedly more i can’t think of right now.

Song stuck in my head: This god help me

Last movie I watched: Sense and Sensibility

What are you wearing right now: an old Red Sox t-shirt that definitely is my brother’s and not mine but was in my drawer of clothes in NY so

Last TV show I watched: ....I can’t remember. The Good Place maybe?

What do you post: ASOIAF over here. GOT but more...curatedly.

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff/Gryffindor

Pokémon team: Valor

Why did you choose your URL: "Not me," the Lady of Barrowton confessed, "but the rest, yes. Old Whoresbane is only here because the Freys hold the Greatjon captive. And do you imagine the Hornwood men have forgotten the Bastard's last marriage, and how his lady wife was left to starve, chewing her own fingers? What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl."

When you created this blog: 2015

Do you get asks regularly: I find that it’s either floodgates or nothing. probably because a lot of anons pile on about my responses to other anons. I think also not necessarily taking anon fic prompts slows stuff down too.

Do you have any other blogs: this question is a fucking callout is what it is.

Religious or Spiritual: Oh boy I won’t bore you all with my Thoughts about my relationship with music and Judiasm and constantly interrogating what both mean to my life.

Favourite colour: Purple

Average hours of sleep: I aim for 8. My fitbit shows that it’s more flexible than that.

Lucky number: Not sure.

Favourite character(s): Donna Moss, Leia Organa, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark (lol Sav I’m just keeping yours because Accurate)

Following: 419. Most of those are inactive.

How many blankets do you sleep with: My comforter

Dream job: Writer. I’m feeling pretty fulfilled doing some inclusion stuff at my current job though so that’s nice.

III - tagged by @baratheons

Relationship Status: Single and hunting

Lipstick or Chapstick: Chapstick

Last Song I Listened to: “Go” by the Civil Wars

Last Movie I Watched: Sense & Sensibility

Top Three Characters: Arya, Sansa, Bran. It varies from day to day what the order is.

Top Three Ships: Arya x Gendry, SanSan, and lately Jon x Dany, but I’d say that third slot revolves a lot based on my mood. The first two have been pretty solidly there for years and are unlikely to change any time soon.

#about me meme

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bookedandbusythough · 8 years ago

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Answer the questions and then tag 8 people!

-thanks to my love @house-arya for tagging me! Tumblr would be nothing without you! <3 <3 - tagging all my boos: @padmesgreene @jewishstarks @gendryatrash @miladyaryastark @valiantnedspreciouslittlegirl @hunterthewriterworld <3 @insomniarama @asongoftarthandlannister @buttercuparry @eggo-my-leggo @furious-winter and of course whoever else wants to do this!

-> What made you sign up to Tumblr? Definitely JUST to siphon up all the GENDRYA content!

-> What did your blog start off as being? idk basically what it is now, except I didn’t have all you fabulous darlings as friends! and also it was mainly arya x gendry week stuff, can’t wait for it to be all that again!

-> Have you ever received any creepy asks, and if so, what did they say? no, is that a thing? -> Have you ever had a bad experience on tumblr? not yet! someone rated my aesthetic low, but i was asking for it since i don’t have the energy to make my blog as pretty as all you have yours!

-> If you had to pick a favourite English monarch, who would you pick? omg idk enough about them all, but i’m going to cheat and say Elizabeth II just because I’m watching The Crown right now and Matt Smith is hot af and the Queen is a badass. Also Queen Elizabeth I from what I do know about her. But mainly does Princess Diana count? -> Do you prefer hot or cold? COLD -> Do you have a special skill or talent? Writing??? At least I like to think so... -> Do you have a phobia of anything? Those I love dying

-> If you had to pick a favourite real life villain from history, who would you pick? ummmm, i wish there was a list, give me a list. @house-arya ‘s answer Rasputin was pretty interesting. I cheated and googled a list and then laughed out loud when I saw Scalia was on there. So I guess him. Even though I hated his policy views, his writing left nothing to be desired, except maybe less. lmao -> Do you have any dark traits? I don’t know. I’m horrible at breaking up with people. Once I’m done with someone, I’m absolutely done. I can like go from being in love with them one day to a complete lack of feeling for them the next. Once I’m done. I think that’s pretty dark. -> If you could do anything, literally anything, like fly on a unicorn or something, what would it be? probably go back in time. which is sad. but it’s fine. not sad, probably have like a TARDIS so I could go on doctor who-like adventures but still get all my shit done -> What is the scale of the worst argument you’ve ever had? omg pick one. I’m crazy so all my arguments are over the top. My poor boo thang...but probably any fight with him. We’re both way too extra soooo -> What is your favourite slush flavour? that light white cherry one at the target cafe... -> If you could bring back any food or drink from your childhood that has been discontinued, what would it be? Trix yogurt, do they still sell that??? -> What is your favourite and most vivid childhood memory? When my siblings and I used to play pretend, from Power Rangers to Jurassic Park, even made up our own TV shows and acted them out, so mainly that -> If you could bring anyone back from the dead who would it be? I shouldn’t, but my friend who died 12 years ago. I would.

-> If you could go back to any time period and live there for a week, which period would it be and why? Renaissance? Just when Paris first became THE capital maybe. I’m not really sure. I’m not being very creative with my answers. But like Paris for sure some time way back in time. -> If you could visit any abandoned place to take pictures, where would it be? Titanic? Or any castle. -> Do you have any particular, peculiar interests? ummmm i’d like to say i had any interests outside of the fandoms I blog about but that would not, strictly speaking, be true. :/ -> Do you have a creepy/scary experience that has happened to you, and what was it? when i was like 10 or 11 years old, my family and i all lived in this one story house in san diego. it was like midnight, and everyone was asleep except for my older brother. he was reading one of those x-files books when he suddenly heard a noise like scratching/knocking on his room window. he was freaked out and ran to wake my parents out. my dad went outside with a flashlight and baseball bat screaming to scare whoever was out there and actually saw someone running away. they called the police but never caught who it was. we all slept in my parents room for the next like 2 months after that. i mean, there was someone staring in at my brother through the window and touching the window while he was reading x-files. is there anything creepier?

-> Do you like/read creepypasta stories? If so, what’s your favourite story? what is that?? -> If you were in the Wars of the Roses, would you be a Lancastrian, or a Yorkist? only because my friend @house-arya said a York, so am I! -> What is your recurring nightmare? i keep having recurring dream...well they’re not all the same dream, but it’s like my latest one takes place where my last one left off where i’m still in school and i either keep missing class or assignments and there’s a constant feeling i’m going to fail the entire semester. since i haven’t been in school for way more than a year now, i don’t understand why this is still happening. -> Have you ever had a lucid dream? i don’t think so, but i wouldn’t mind one. -> If you could go to another planet, which would it be? Venus. Or the moon. ->What is your religion, if any? Baptized Catholic, but I don’t practice anymore for various reasons. -> Have you ever got so drunk, that you did something really embarrassing, and if so, what did you do? omg we did trivia at a a brewery last night, then went to in n out and my friend and I wanted to get into a fight with this group of obnoxious teenagers sitting nearby who were totally judging us for being loud. but i almost always do something embarrassing when i drink because i’m such a lightweight. -> Mike, Dustin, Lucas, or Will? LUCAS FOR LIFE <3 <3 <3

-> Do you like Marina and the Diamonds? i think i’ve heard of them? but can’t think of any one song? -> Charli XCX? there was that one popular catchy song i liked, but i don’t remember the name, but yes? -> Tag a blog that you’ve seen, and you love their posts, but have never told them, and would like to talk to them. i would say @valiantnedspreciouslittlegirl but i think i’ve already sufficiently embarrassed myself enough telling her basically what a goddess she is, especially in terms of her stories. but there’s also @gendrie who just writes the best analysis/meta (are those the rights words?) about gendrya. i literally end up smiling like an idiot every time I read a @gendrie post about gendrya. <3 <3 <3 to the 2 of you! -> Pick one thing you like/love from the 80s. the movie Psycho II. is that weird? -> What year were you born, and name something cool from that year. I’m going with @house-arya on this one and am going to say “me” too!

-> What was your blog name originally? (If you had another blog name) that was you?! @house-arya omg! that’s cray, i never realized! but i’ve never changed mine! -> Do you follow any blogs that you know the user in real life? Haha, no. No wait. My sister. She’s a bitch though, so it’s fine. @crimsonramirez -> If you are in the ST fandom, which is your favourite song off the ST soundtrack? omg i thought that stood for star trek until I saw @house-arya‘s answer (sorry to keep tagging you). but same answer as her, should i stay or should i go. -> Finally, give your opinion on the person who tagged you! ✨ I KNOW I GUSH ABOUT YOU ALL THE TIME BUT LITERALLY TUMBLR WOULD BE NOTHING WITHOUT YOU AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT MY LIFE WOULD HAVE BEEN WITHOUT ARYAXGENDRY WEEK BUT OMG YOUR BLOG IS LITERALLY MY FAVORITE AND YOU KNOW THAT BUT SOMEHOW I CAN’T STOP TELLING YOU! <3 <3 <3

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raisingsupergirl · 4 years ago

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Embracing the Change

"Perfection is temporary. Change is constant." These were the wise words of Shaun T., one of the faces of the Beachbody® fitness empire. I usually roll my eyes at the inspirational crap he spouts off during his workouts, but this one stuck with me. Why? Because I'm definitely changing. All the time. And sometimes it's not the easiest thing to accept, especially when the changes don't line up with how I like to see myself. Take bugs, for example. They freakin' creep me out these days, but I totally won't admit that to my daughter…

I'm an animal lover, you see. Always have been. They're innocent, pure. They're industrious, dedicated, complex, diverse, and awe-inspiring. And bugs are no exception. Honeybees are some of my favorites. And while centipedes, millipedes, and roaches have always been a phobia of mine (nobody's perfect), I used to absolutely love all other little crawly things. Unfortunately, that’s a big "used to," and my list of "nope, nope nope!" bugs is growing, and now at the top of that list are those big, fat, black crickets. Which sucks, because my oldest daughter, Avery (six years old) is fascinated by them right now. To the point where she lets them crawl all over her when she finds them (excuse me while I restrain my urge to vomit). Of course, I'm encouraging her boldness and love of living creatures because I believe such awareness extends to inner appreciation and outward compassion. But it just sucks that I have to repress my gag reflex when Avery is trying to connect with me on something I try so hard to instill in her. And that's the smallest of my personal changes lately.

A couple of years ago, I started working out almost every day (thanks to my wife's good examples). At first, I lost weight and toned up, and then I focused in on my traditional image of being "in shape"—getting swole. Big muscles equal fitness, right? And because of that, I mainly lifted weights. And, surprise surprise, I kept hurting myself. Why? Because I'm six-foot-five, and I have floppy joints. And I was always jumping right into a morning workout without warming up or stretching well afterward. Sure, I looked like I was in great shape, but most weeks I had trouble turning my head without excruciating pain. And then I switched back to more cardio-centric workouts and even some that emphasized stretching, balance, and control. Lo and behold, my injuries became less pronounced, but… so did my muscles. :*( It felt like all of my hard work was literally wasting away. So I went back to heavy lifting (and injuries) for a while before coming to a realization—it's okay for my body to undergo changes. It's okay if I spend six weeks working on my flexibility and balance at the expense of muscle mass. And now, as my biceps atrophy and my abs melt away, I've never felt better. I do ten minutes of stretching after every workout, and I haven't had an injury for months. Just because I don't look like a twenty-year-old fitness model doesn't mean I'm not fit. And it certainly doesn't mean I'm not enjoying the process. Though… I'll probably be picking up some dumbbells for my next workout program.

And then there's the mental and spiritual stuff. I've been a Christian for as long as I can remember, but gosh, I would be way off base if I said I perceived God the same way now that I did even five years ago. Or if I said I saw myself or the world in the same way. A huge part of it has to do with having children, but there's also the other stuff: navigating work-life balance, cultural turmoil, and family challenges, to name a few. I see myself as quiet, stoic, respectful, and introspective because those are the things I admire and strive for, but that certainly doesn't mean I always come across that way. I'm louder now since I met my wife and added two daughters to the mix. I literally write my emotions out on the page every week. I've been known to make sarcastic comments when people are acting dumb, and my busy lifestyle leaves much less time for contemplation than I'd like. When I think about those things, my gut reaction is one of regret. Am I becoming someone I wouldn't like to be around? Am I overbearing and controlling? Am I a know-it-all?

Well, social psychologists would say that those are the character traits I resort to when I'm emotionally exhausted, frustrated, or distracted, but they don’t necessarily define me. I however, am inclined to tell the social psychologists to shut their yappers. I am loud on occasion. Sometimes I do act on impulse instead of consideration. Those traits are a part of who I am right now. And that's okay. I'm not perfect. I don't reflect my perfect idea of who I should be. I'm a product of my environment just as much as of my own efforts. But more importantly, I am a beloved child of God.

There's no end to the changes we all undergo every day. I read once that there's not a single molecule in our body right now that we were born with. The matter we're made out of at this point in time is completely different from the matter we had even a decade ago. That means we're all literally different people, right down to the molecular level, regardless of what we think or feel. And that idea can seriously creep us out if we let it. But it can also be quite exhilarating. As the sage Shaun T. said, change is the only thing that's constant in our physical world (which includes our thoughts and emotions). It's easy to regret our past mistakes or long for our future successes. And it's even good for us to work toward self-improvement, but why not celebrate our current selves while we're at it? In all of our flaws and victories, we are ourselves, no more and no less. Every circumstance, every decision, every thought, fear, and smile—it's all a part of our journey.

I'm not saying I always love myself. I'm not saying I don't frequently wish I could overcome my failings and nurture my strengths to perfection. But in those fleeting moments of clarity, I am content. A smile comes from within. I embrace my body, my mind, my life. I am happy with who I am. Especially since I've now passed the two-week sugar addiction that consumed me a month or so ago. Talk about a life change that I would not have loved… Now, if I could just look at a cricket again without dying.

#embracing change #constantly changing #momblr #mumblr #dadblr #self-improvement #self-assessment #self-acceptance

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genuinelyscottish · 7 years ago

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Change

Change is my arch nemesis. The fluctuation of schedule, the disintegration of routine, the lack of order evokes a literal feeling of sickness in the pit of my gut. Although I’ve always supposed this change-phobia is intrinsically linked with the mentality of rigidity which was drilled into me in the earliest of my childhood memories, recent events have taught me that perhaps change is not the multi-headed demon I so feared. Within three months, the very core of my fundamental beliefs about life, the universe and everything in it (a reference I would not have made in October!) have shattered and scattered across my corner of the planet.The presumptions I had made about how my life was going to go, what makes me happy and how I as a human being exist have become like dust swirling in the abyss - directionless, but perpetually in motion. These integral parts of my character are rapidly being reassembled as the choices I am making, the actions I am taking, and the words I am saying become finite and irreversible. Not that irreversibility is negative - in fact I would argue that stability and safety in the knowledge that my choices are definitive is what anchors me to them, and to the security they bring. And this ‘new me’ who finds herself being constructed as each day, each conversation unfolds? I think calling her ‘new’ would be entirely false. What is actually happening is a necessary growing up, a maturing which is essential to my progression as an individual towards my end goal (which, coincidentally remains steadfast amongst these most tumultuous of changes).

My advancement as an individual has been so exponential these past three months, it is difficult to articulate without losing something. Without pandering to the English student in me too much, I’ve grouped my personality changes into three key areas which I think have been the most affected.

1. The Fog

Ah, the fog. My good old friend, the destroyer of relationships; crux of my self-sabotaging need to overthink; drain on both my and those around me’s social energy. I’ve been grappling with you for almost an entire miserable decade, and only now as no longer being a teenager looms all the nearer have I finally began to dissect and dissolve you. You are an unwanted by-product of a broken brain, but it is my broken brain, and there is limitless beauty in brokenness. This swirling, all-encompassing, depressive grey is erasable, and recent changes have enabled me to take third-person-esque look at you and tell you that no more do you rule my life. You are not the winning party, or even a close second. My beautiful broken brain has entered a state of self-awareness where I can look at you, identify your source, and wipe it out. You do not define me any more.

2. Social Energy

Aligning itself perfectly with this realisation of the fog’s origins, it has become apparent to me that social energy is the catalyst to the majority of problems in my mentality. They say the average person speaks around 16,000 words per day, and past-me was eager to not just meet, but exceed this target. Silence is uncomfortable, or so I’d taught myself. If someone is silent with you, they must despise you - you just aren’t entertaining, or funny, or interesting enough to merit conversation with. Whilst these thoughts occasionally rear their ugly heads when I can sense the quiet seeping in and the fog rattling in her cage, reassurance and the knowledge that no, I am an interesting person, and the people who are in my life are there because they want to be and because they think that what I have to say holds value allows me to solidify the imprisonment of the negative thoughts and embrace the silence.

When twenty three out of twenty four hours (allowing for a collective hour of bathroom/snacking breaks) are spent in the company of another person, there is inevitably going to be that moment when conversation runs a little short. That is healthy, and that is normal. I am writing this here partly as a message to anyone who stumbles across this blog, but also as a reminder to myself in the future that constant mindless conversation is not necessarily more desirable than one forty minute debate about something both parties feel educated and invested in. Accumulating knowledge about areas of common interest is a key way to ensure that conversation remains refreshing and interesting, and living a life outside the time spent together is perhaps the main way to ensure that the reunions are all the more memorable because they are rich in conversation and excitement. But, the main takeaway is that silence is not the enemy, and reiterating this to yourself will help keep the fog at bay.

3. Love

On a completely different topic, perhaps the core strand of my personality which has found itself being fairly violently plucked after almost two decades of minor flicks is my capacity to love and to be loved. I thought I had found this love in another after he allowed me to dream and fantasise and plan, but I was naive and did not understand (or want to understand, really) that nothing would ever come of my obsession. I mistook an imagined fantasy for love, and now I’ve found the real thing, I laugh at what I thought I wanted. Some of the obsessive behaviours still haunted this the purest form of love at the beginning, but when it became apparent that living in the past and stalking social media religiously was in actuality doing nothing but detracting from the utter joy and bliss of the present, I learnt very efficiently that history is confined to the past. We experience the range of human emotions, from pure ecstacy to the deepest of sorrow at some point in life, and these experiences shape who we become. Without our stories, we don’t exist, but knowing someone’s story, and obsessing over things you had no part in and cannot do anything to change are two very different things.

Being truly in love for the first time in my life has expanded my capacity to feel - to feel misery, to feel worry, but also to feel utter and exuberant joy and complete contentment in the presence of another. Love has been redefined - it is not striving for his affections by obscuring who you are, rather allowing yourself to enter the levels of complete acceptance of your body, your mannerism and your personality that are only usually felt when you return to your family home. Home, also, is a funny concept which I have found the definition of to be uprooted. The place I once called home has become a writhing pit of infernal reptiles, insistent that my happiness can only come from a church-approved source. Instead, we have built ourselves a home out of IKEA and Asda, a corner by the harbour where we watch the boats ebb and flow whilst we sit sipping coffee and whisper our forevers. He is my forever, and whilst I was concerned that I was allowing my stupid over-romantic heart to fall irrevocably again before it imploded because maybe I’m just unlovable, each day I am learning new ways to love him, and the intensity of the overwhelming joy I feel when I remember that he is mine, and I am his, is unlike any other feeling in this world.

Hearing his story, learning his past and what built him into the bundle of humour, energy and cynicism he is today feels like remembering something I’d once known. Watching his quiet habits, the things he subconsciously allows his muscle memory to do evokes the strangest of reactions in me - my heart throbs with such an intensity I struggle to not place a hand on my ribcage to ensure it doesn’t physically burst out. Knowing that he is comfortable enough with me to let all his walls down, as he has so effectively demolished mine, our souls can connect at the purest of levels, intertwining in perfect harmony. Our love is the love of music, of poetry, not necessarily overly cliche because our beautiful broken brains would not cope with constant sap, but is instead humour-filled, fuelled by incessant teasing and intellectual challenging. What a relief to have found my perfect partner in this disjointed disaster we call existence! Holding his hand, curled against his chest, head filled with images of our wedding, our curly-haired babies, our life spent chasing each other round our forever home with the cats trying desperately not to be trodden on and our retirement where I finally learn to knit and he fiddles with old computer parts, insistent that ‘one day I’ll revive this old thing, just you wait!”, I am assured in myself that this is the real deal. We are end-game, the couple people are jealous of because our connection is not forced or reliant on proving ourselves, but instead natural and as effortless as breathing. I truly believe that destiny pushed us together, at the most inconvenient time in the most unlikely of settings to allow us to discover that through the (already fairly copious) trials the world will throw at us, we are anchored to each other and secure in our love, and together we’ll be from now into eternity.

Anyway, I’m aware that this post is ridiculously long and now exploding with unbearable levels of romance, but this past three months has released my potential, my identity and my sense of self from the prescribed outline enforced by my upbringing, and that certainly warrants a fairly substantive post.

With any luck, I’ll keep updating this with more frequency, I’ve missed the satisfaction which comes from brain-dumping onto an obscure corner of the internet.

‘Til next time,

The golden child.

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