I'm a slightly (some days more than slightly) crazed, mostly hippie, vegan, single mom. This blog is where I put the funny, the sad, the frustrating, and all the other parts of me. I'm bound to offend you at some point, but I think you'll be okay!
I decided to link up to the fabulous Cyn's Valentine's meme about loving yourself. You can always check Cyn (and her awesome photography) out at The Chunky Goddess.
Loving myself. What does that mean to me? Honestly, I don't know. I spend so much of my time caring for and worrying about everyone else, that I forget to take that "me" time. I think this is a common problem for women in general, and mom's specifically. (Yes yes, it's a sexist statement but I think you'll live).
I have this weird mix of loving myself and hating myself, which again I think is pretty normal. So many of the things that I dislike about myself are the things I think of as failures. Do I love myself? I don't think I do. I mean, I know that I rock out loud, but I don't think I love me very much. I like me some days, does that count?
I would love to love myself. How do I do that? How do I change my self-perception? Is it affirmations in the mirror, like Kevin says? "I am smart, I am beautiful, and darnit, I love me". Well folks, that involves looking in the mirror and I try not to do that. Do I look at myself from the point of view of those that love me? So, I asked some of them. "What do you love about me"? Let me tell you, thems are some crazy people! :) Thank Goddess they are all in my life because my friends rock. I've heard it said that you can judge your character by the quality of the people who love you. In that case, I definitely am amazing, albeit a bit loose in the noodle.
Loving myself. It means understanding my flaws and knowing that I am only human. It means celebrating my good points and knowing that I can be pretty rad. It's about owning my shit and saying "I will do better". It's about loving those in my life and doing what I can to make their lives better. It's about surrounding myself with honest people who make me want to be a better person. It means being who I am and not changing into who I think others want me to be.
The last week has been a series of moments that I feel so mixed about. I am in this place in my brain, which I wish would just shut up sometimes by the way, that is like sitting in a really comfortable chair in a room where you know there is something very dangerous but you don't know what it is. You want to relax but you can't quite bring yourself to do it. It's like knowing, as soon as you relax, BAM! Usually, I can just relax in that chair and take things as they come but right now, not so much. I've been thinking about life, love, loyalty, pride, prejudice, pain, selfishness, selflessness, loneliness, and breaking points. I'm running around in mental circles until I'm dizzy. So time marches on and I march with it; hoping I can make sense of the noise. It's like it's waiting for me to figure it out. Until I do, I'll be the me that I am, doing the things that I do, becoming ever better, and finding the peace in my heart.
"At night when the stars light up my room.
I sit by myself talking to the Moon.
Trying to get to you, In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too.
Or am I a fool who sits alone, talking to the moon"
Through the branches and brambles in my path, I see the bright sun. I see where I'm supposed to go. I must remember that to take the path less traveled, means that I will have to fight my way through. For the most part, the road not taken is the one that has brought me the most. The most love, the most joy, the most pain, and the most strength. Truly it has made all the difference. Some days, I remember the first path. It's ease, pounded by the feet of the masses, looks so inviting. Let's be honest though, I wouldn't be happy on that path. I thrive on the challenge and sometimes, on the very pain that has come so close to defeating me. It's moments like these when I have to remember that I chose this path. Although I may, in ages and ages hence, tell my story with a sigh; it will also be told with victory.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.