Believing in Changing Belief

Your beliefs come concrete on clouds with no closed current to open your mind. I get where your beliefs come from. I really do.But coming from Italy doesn’t mean you know how to make a gourmet pizza and coming from France doesn’t mean your taste buds enjoy wine. And just because you grew up in a country that gave you classes and instructions on learning how to spell, doesn’t mean you spell well.
So just because your beliefs came from some actual occurrence or event in your life, or from people telling you that is the way that it is, doesn’t mean they are untouchable or unchangeable. That they are even real, true or connected to anything but your inability to see it any other way.
You can believe in changing what you believe.

 

To Stop Flirting, Is Friggin’ Tough

Up until I was 15 I was reserved, painfully shy, uncomfortable and insecure.

16 years of age popped more boobage onto me,a boyfriend into me, and this desire to actually make myself look good.
I stopped putting my school clothes on the night before and started straightening my hair and paid attention to what clothes made me look better.

It’s not all about physical attraction but sometimes, it is.
Looking good was really the only way I felt good. Feeling good brought my confidence meter up 6000 notches and in turn,
” Hello boys”.

For all of it’s existence, I didn’t call it flirting. ” It’s just the way I am!” ( Oh, please, I’d slash that idea down with an axe if it wasn’t already buried under a hill somewhere up north. )
Anyways, my behavior with males came naturally and it was perfected in a way I didn’t question or even really understand.

Basically what I’m trying to get at is that I flirted my way through life. It meant many overlapping relationships and a dependency that went beyond relying. It was a way of life.

Now I’m 28 and starting a brand new way. I’m attempting to drop a habit I didn’t realize I had.

Okay. So here’s the thing. When you go that long interacting in only one type of way towards males, it’s pretty friggin difficult to establish another way that doesn’t involve the combo of great social skills and the desire to be liked.

I mean, come ON.

I daily feel I’m being rude to men. It’s like knowing what to say to make them feel better or good about themselves, but trying not to want to anymore.
It’s like avoiding any eye contact, replying with bluntness wrapped in disinterest. It’s shutting down potential conversations before they begin.  It’s like learning how to communicate all over again when you know you know how to communicate just fine. It’s like the perfect opportunity to show off something you were proud of, but shutting that door over and over again.

And yeah, it does make me feel uncomfortable. I’m awkward at it. I’m nervous with it.
It’s fresh and tiring. I feel like a slightly empowered amature.  It brings me to a different level with myself and my world and my fancy smanzy heart tells me it’s the way to go, no matter how short worded I’m being with someone that is just begging for more interaction.

 
And I’ll take interaction with my heart over some freakishly good looking man asking for my phone number any day.

 

 

 

 

I Make

I leaned over the counter to grab the bag full of Lays Lies and I knocked over the bowl of Cheetos  Cheatos in the process and it rolled off the surface onto the floor and all I did was stand there and look at it. For a minute I was still and Golden Grahms and good. Then I
reached for the broom doom and in the same movement spilled the Coke joke and I was frightened not surprised and my cup heart cracked again and my foot ego bruised where all the jokes had landed were on me.
Maybe I just hoped the Tooth Truth fairy would come to help me pull out the words I needed to say. Or that a  wash wish cloth would magically appear so I could wipe myself clean of this terrible distasteful habit.

Because it wasn’t the last first time.

Time ticked and I felt nothing but myself, pouring out cartons of milk meek onto the rest of what was there. I turned and stretched my spinal denial cords and found my voice and

with it yelled, ” I have made this mess and it is you me.”

 

Here’s to admittance, unavoidance and tackling beautiful messes. 
Over and over again.

 

 

 

Changing Self

When you get in tune with who you want to be and who you are

you are more confident in yourself.

Talking and doing and BEING, is not so scary.

I’ve figured out some things about myself and I’ve decided on a few things, and since I’ve been in solitude for awhile now, I have the desire to go out and make choices to have my new being, brought active. To see it in live.

I don’t need other peoples attention or validation on my new self, it’s more so for me.To proove to me.

I get stuck in the place of this being right or wrong.

Should I just relish in the fact I’ve changed and I know it?
I don’t need others to tell me who I am. Right?

Power Rising

A week ago a friend told me about a Church Easter Hunt,free pancakes,Service type a deal.
One week later I walked into that church having not told her I was going to go,with my son not knowing anyone.
Into the eating place, a boy from my sons school runs up. We sit with his mom and sisters.

I stand beside that Mom while the friend that invited me looks after the children in the nursery. My son and her son have interacted more with one another than we have. I feel at peace.
This is cool.
This is the socializing I would like to become more involved in. I am good at it. I like the confidence I can feel in knowing I am doing something that feels comfortable. Like my old self used to do with ease, with grace. With connection and soul and listening. I’m a pro.
Just over the years I started thinking too much.I was the minority for one thing, in the country of Thai Language, and then coming back here since I had lost a lot of my self over there, I couldn’t really stand on two feet conversing and feel good about it.

Here’s to yet again, more new changes coming.

Go life, go me.

It’s Already Better

So that’s the scoop.
My mom left the house yesterday morning. Moving truck and all. Her room is now empty and the house feels much better.

I feel happier. I have my son back.
It is a good feeling, with small pocketfuls of clouds.

Rearranged a lot of the house today. I don’t feel bad about it.

It looks and feels better.

This is okay, this is going to be okay.

Life Pondermints

Lately I’ve been thinking about my purpose in life. And also the idea– If I am not living for myself, for who I am, who am I living for? And why.

I think we get into crunches sometimes. And we’re like, ‘ what the heck, how did I get here??’. And it’s kind of a feary feeling.Because if THAT can happen, if we can get somewhere without knowing, who’s to say at which point we’ll end up at the dead point-without knowing?
Oh wait… that scenerio DOES exist.

It’s not to say we can’t end up in GREAT places, wondering how we got there.
But whether the places are of bad quality or of good, if we think hard enough, we’ll likely determine ‘how we got there. Life is pretty tell tale- it’s not all baloney and disjointed burgers of mayhem. But it does have it’s loops of crazy and surprise and mystery.
So if we DON’T figure out how we got to where we are, that’s okay.
Sometimes it’s best if we DON’T know.
But we might never know if we’re supposed to know. Chances are, if we don’t, then we aren’t.

So when I look back to figure out how I got here-well I’m supposed to know. Because I do know. It’s just kind of a weird feeling when I realize being here with a pondering of my purpose for the first time in my life,means that I never pursued potential in it before. It’s just been full of runny eggs,melted yogurt and floating dust particles.

In the past three months I have learned more about myself than I have in three years. That’s a lot of learning.
You would think that with all this new stuffs I’ve got in my pockets, I’d be hop, skip and jump-a-crumpin’ around the earth. ( Okay, so by earth I mean my city )

But NO!
My head is spun out.  It’s like being rewarded 8 different awards and not sure which one to brag about first. It’s like winning the lottery and not knowing what to spend or where to spend the money. It’s like being a new person and not knowing where,or how, to direct yourself.

You can have drives more frequently than others and therefore be considered driven but they all come and go. I’m okay with that, but what does starting my car mean? I know we start at the beginning, but I don’t know where the key to my car is. My heart?

I guess I just want my forward movement to represent the new I am. It shoudn’t be that difficult, but I think reassessing purpose and realizing I was living for nobody at all has really made socks of hesitation for my feet. I’m scared to step anywhere.

But hey,maybe by taking a step in wherever direction, is exactly what I need to figure out where I do or don’t want to step, and give me plans and goals to start mapping my life journey. To start a career of life, by actually choosing what happens in it, instead of just reacting to what does.

Now to stop typing and start doing.
That’s a step, ain’t it?

Why We Write

Many reasons why we write.

Maybe mostly we write when we are sad. When we are bored. When we have experienced happiness. When we desire validation. Each like or comment or follow flickers our insides in some way or another. And it’s a positive. Certainly that is a type of way we do life too. We want people to like what we say and even when we do nice things, it’ll be okay if someone notices and says, “Hey, Good job”. That’s humanity.

We all have our struggles.

Some of you are going through university doing your best .Some of you are hurting in your relationship. Family disputes, bosses, fellow employees. There is usually always something we have going on in our life that’s a negative.
And sometimes we write about it.
The way I see it, negatives mean something to us or else we wouldn’t care or feel about it. Things are easy to shrug off when there are no attachments, no values, no feel for it.

We can’t really turn that off. We can possibly redirect it. But even then, we’re still going to feel bad about what makes us feel bad. Because that’s our core. That’s who we are.

Some of us are trying to figure out life. Like me.
About who we are and what we stand for. Sometimes we go through huge cliff jumping changes and we get disorientated and lost and we just want to love and be free from all our faults and poor choices of our past.
And we can understand that it is not a fast overnight change. That it will take months, if not years to fully re-position ourselves.

And sometimes that isn’t fast enough. We want to jump to that part so speaking becomes easier and better and jumping through hoops and not just screwing up,but screwing up the SAME screw up- isn’t part of your life. Because you just feel tangled. You feel foreign to life simply because you are who you want to be now, but who you were smudges the edges and brings the image of you and the idea of you, into an oddly disfigured creature. Is THAT who I am?

I’m still chained to my past. Habits break out and I hate them. I don’t want them but they happen. Addictions that I never thought were, still make there appearance even now. After how much I’ve been wanting and willing and HAVE, changed. They still exist. And it completely bops me off my rocker.

How the fook are they still there when I want nothing to do with them?
I feel better.

Hmm, maybe we all just write because it feels better.

Finding it Difficult to Do

I think one of the toughest things I’ll find in the next few months is doing.
Doing what I know I need to. Doing what I’m telling myself and what I’m telling people. They are the same thing but I can feel it wavering when I’m speaking it outloud to someone.
As if, I don’t really believe that I’m going to do it.
It’s so easy to fall back into the ways I knew.

Maybe I am expecting this to come naturally, because my desire for it is big enough.
But I think I’m slowly understanding that it’s not an overnight or a month change.
Lifestyles don’t just happen. They end up being lifestyles because of consecutive days that hold consistency.