Posted in Being Vulnerable

Comparison is the thief of joy. -Brene Brown

Something I’ve been working on for a few years now is my comparative thoughts.

I, like most people, am really hard on myself.

I have high expectations of where I should be in life and what I should look like throughout my life.

These expectations were molded by my family, but also by my environment.

But as I’ve gotten older I’ve started to question if these expectations were truly serving me.

Basically, was my practice of comparing myself to others helpful?

And I’ve painfully discovered, it isn’t.

It actually makes me feel like shit.

And if I truly love myself, why would I want to make myself feel this way?

I think, especially after losing my job last year due to covid, I realized I’m not okay with it.

The ego death I had during that time seriously awakened me to my humongous insecurity around being seen as intelligent, ambitious and productive.

And I battled greatly with this death.

I still do.

But what I came to realize was I am enough regardless of my productivity and achievements.

Of course, I’ll probably always secretly seek a little approval, but that seeking is diminishing.

And so are my comparative thoughts.

And it sucks that it took me hitting the fucking floor to acknowledge my worth.

I wish I had seen how powerful and capable I am prior to that moment.

But that’s life, right?

Sometimes we need to fall in order to fly.

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

The almond croissant

Recently I had a big reaction over a burnt almond croissant.

The reaction went from disappointment to rage to grief to tears to seeking justice within 30 minutes.

It was alot to witness and alot to endure.

I still stand by my feelings that the croissant was burnt and did not meet my croissant high expectations.

But, I did nothing about it.

Because I’m ashamed by the idea of causing a public scene and because I wanted to rise above.

But deep down, I was crushed.

And also tired as I stayed up late the night before.

The whole drama though still sits with me because I know where those feelings were coming from.

They come from my need to seek perfection.

Which is what I’ve always done.

So when I’m faced with things or people or events that are below my standard of perfect, I tend to want to have a bitch fit.

Do I though?

Not normally.

But this time felt different.

This time I felt safe to express my deep dissatisfaction without being scared of seeming like a chronic complainer, which I loathe the idea of becoming.

Because I was with you.

I normally never complain because I was raised not to, but with you in this almond croissant fiasco I felt safe to be me.

The scared little girl who just wants to control everything so she doesn’t have to feel anything.

That was me in that moment.

And you held me in that same moment and said it’s okay to cry, I got you.

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

All I remember

Was you in pain

I’d wake up to the sound of him screaming at you

Then you crying and pleading

Yet staying

I remember the vomiting

The headaches

The bleeding

The fake smiling

All I remember is your pain

And then she died

And I remember the last sparkle of joy

Leave your eyes

Then I watched as the depression

consumed you

And every day I wanted to save you

Heal you

Protect you

But you were told to stay

She told you that’s what god would want

So you did

And once you made that final choice

I knew I had to separate from you

I couldn’t save you

And that broken every piece of my heart because I love you

And I want to see the joy in your eyes again

But I realize now that is not my role to play

So I could not stay.

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

I share because

I don’t want to forget.

I don’t want to forget these moments when I was learning to crawl.

Because that’s what I feel I’m doing.

I’m learning how to love myself with a baby’s progress.

I’m learning how to heal my heart and it takes time.

Days upon days until they turn into years.

And I don’t want to forget this time when I first dived into my own heart.

My own pain.

Because I know myself.

One day, years from now, I’ll think I have it figured out.

I hope that day never comes

But knowing my superior egotistical self, it will.

And I hope someone points me back to here.

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Anxiety and depression

You wouldn’t know this by meeting me, but I struggle with anxiety and depression.

Funny, that statement, huh.

Like mental ill health has a look.

But so many assume it does.

They think, are you Eeyore or Tigger today?

Well, I’m neither and both.

And isn’t that confusing?

But the world is confusing!

That’s the thing.

We are not living in some binary world.

Our world and our feelings are perplex and alot of time paradoxical.

We can be both things at once.

We don’t have to choose sides.

And we don’t have to fit in a box.

We can feel everything and nothing and still be “normal”.

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Sorry, Tracy.

Being blindly kind

Will hurt you like a double edge sword.

Beware, your impatience to be kind is not actually a projection of your own ego seeking praise.

Childhood traumas sneak up on you that way.

I fucked up. I was trying to be kind to tracy and I didn’t even consider if it’s what tracy wanted.
I apologized.
And she said she wasn’t angry, but now she’s stressed and it’s my fault.
I’m a fucking idiot.

I know it’s done now.
But not in my head it’s not.
In my head I’ll beat myself up for the rest of the day.
Practicing empathy is so hard for me.
Because my dad isn’t an empathetic person.
I learned my whole life not showing empathy was the strong approach.
The right approach.
And now I’m unlearning that.
And it’s fucking hard

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Dino mite

When I was a kid, I loved being weird and eccentric.

I once put all my winter clothes on at once and waddled out of my room saying, “I’m a snowman.”

Or I use to drip ocean mud on my legs at the beach until I was all covered up and say, “I’m the mud monster!!!”

In high school I use to skip down the halls and sing.

In university I use to compete with my friends about who got the highest score in our finance class and make dad jokes about it.

I’ve always been somewhat of a rebellious weirdo.

I’ve never wanted to be super cool.
Yeah I’ve wanted to fit in, but more importantly I wanted to be accepted for who I was.

And when I couldn’t find a group who would accept me, I’d usually just go searching in the library.
My people are always in the library.

So what I’m saying is, I like this about me.

And I’ll never stop being the onesie wearing weirdo who loves unicorns.

Because that’s me.

-B.