Tag Archives: vulnerable

Gorgeous, Grotesquely So

As I do more and more things I’m afraid to do, I come closer with one scrapingly vibrant truth.

 

I’m going to get weird.

 

Off and on.

I’m quite certain it will be a progressive thing.

But it’s an inevitable one.

Of course, there’s the fact that I’m bipolar and I’ll also always be kind and sweet and positive and optimistic. Sometimes quiet and kept to myself. Other times boiling blood will drip down strange imagery of shiver-inducing forest scenes in the horror movie that hasn’t been made yet.

Regardless.

Finally, we’ll all be face-to-face with the grinning madwoman inside my bone marrow, striving painfully to rip my skin off.

Isn’t that what we all want?

To strip ourselves down to the bare bones – the most real, vulnerable, risky, ALIVE parts of ourselves – so we can then add them up to the robust and flowery weight we carry and the choices we make and figure out how we maneuver within this construct to make up a real life human being?

Aren’t we all secretly, terrifyingly sick of the secrets, the hiding, the fake we project in this frightened world of souls trying to find truth by hiding, twisting, pretending, and obscuring?

 

I find I’m already getting weirder. In my day to day life. I care less and less how people will react, what they’ll think. I’m taking risks. It’s risky. It’s baby steps or bust. Everyone has to learn to walk over and over and bloody over again, our whole freaking lifelong.

 

It’s like unzipping my skin, throwing the dermis on the gritty asphalt and walking into the ritzy white floored hotel for all to see, bloody footprints left behind with every step forward, veins and muscle, bone showing through while pre-packaged pretty lies gasp and point from within their professionally tucked stomachs and reshaped noses.

Everyone down with that?

 

 

 

….Most people, when they’re inspired, they get excited, energized, and ready to go. Me? I get weirder than normal.

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Day 5: Fear – In a Funk (and Proof)

This is part of a 30-day challenge where I will record myself telling you something I’m afraid of, something I’m afraid for people to know, or tell you about something that I did that I was afraid to do that day.

I challenge you to do the same.

It’s freeing. To take what you’re afraid of and do it. To expose it. To expose all of who you are (not telling you to flash your neighbors) for people to see.

I feel we live in a world where people are trying to pretend to be someone they’re not on Facebook and Instagram and Twitter and on and on. We put up this fake self so that people think we’re only this small portion of who we really are. So here is all of me.


 

DAY FIVE

 

 

PROOF that I’m letting my day 4 fear work for me.

I don’t match. And I don’t care.

Also, my sister had just woken up from a nap. 😉

(I don’t know what happened… For like two hours in the middle of the day I was so peppy!….. *passes out from exhaustion*)

Okay… tell me something.

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Day 2: Fear – Lying by Omission

This is part of a 30-day challenge where I will record myself telling you something I’m afraid of, something I’m afraid for people to know, or tell you about something that I did that I was afraid to do that day.

I challenge you to do the same.

It’s freeing. To take what you’re afraid of and do it. To expose it. To expose all of who you are (not telling you to flash your neighbors) for people to see.

I feel we live in a world where people are trying to pretend to be someone they’re not on Facebook and Instagram and Twitter and on and on. We put up this fake self so that people think we’re only this small portion of who we really are. So here is all of me.


 

DAY TWO

 

‘Who are you?’ said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, ‘I — I hardly know, sir, just at present — at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ said the Caterpillar sternly. ‘Explain yourself!’

‘I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir’ said Alice, ‘because I’m not myself, you see.’

‘I don’t see,’ said the Caterpillar.

‘I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly,’ Alice replied very politely, ‘for I can’t understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.’

‘It isn’t,’ said the Caterpillar.

‘Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet,’ said Alice; ‘but when you have to turn into a chrysalis — you will some day, you know — and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you’ll feel it a little queer, won’t you?’

‘Not a bit,’ said the Caterpillar.

Source: http://sabian.org/alice_in_wonderland5.php

 

What are you afraid of today? What fear is holding you back from the greatness in you? Remember, greatness doesn’t have to be large. It can be very small indeed. Yet touch the lives of many, perhaps only one soul, in a very, very large way.


 

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Something Unlikely

In the recesses of my soul, I fear it’s unlikely for me to find love.

A whole, healthy love.

An accepting, understanding love.

Someone who not only understands me, knows me, but wants me to be in their lives, every day. Someone who finds me important.

Bereft of abuse of any sort.

This is horribly vulnerable and I hate it. But it’s true.

 

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And I think it is sad.

Sad that I am so jaded, so hopeless when it comes to some things.

I think it is sad that I am so filled with such emptiness that I don’t know where to look inside myself to find myself.

I feel I need to peal open the skin on my rib cage, crack open my ribs, and peer inside, hoping there will be a beating heart, to begin with. But beyond that, hoping I’ll find a small, scared, soul hiding somewhere behind an organ or too. Waiting to be found.

Waiting to be accepted.

 

Isn’t that just so human?

It’s not something I obsess about.

It’s not something I even think about too often.

I’m certainly not one of those gals who searches for a man like her life depends on it. I never thought about my wedding. Never fantasized about walking down the aisle, all doe eyed, and plastered in white.

For one, I don’t want to wear white on my wedding day, whenever or if that happens.

And for two, I’ve always been too busy fantasizing about monsters, creatures that could jar me into danger and maddening enjoyment of life.

I’ve never been the kind of gal who had to have twenty friends, surrounded by people all the time, making her feel wanted and loved. I’m not particularly needy. In fact, I need my space.

 

So it isn’t a crazy unhealthy thing.

It simply is. In the back of my mind. Floating along with all those other thoughts or beliefs, I guess, that don’t bother me too often. Or affect me all that often either.

There are simply some things I’m not going to poke at until I’ve worked out where I am right now.

 

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What I’m talking about is the human desire to be loved on a level that only happens when one falls in love.

A knowing and an accepting.

 

I think it’s what we are; human.

We want that other human who we can be 100% human around and still be loved.

 

Did I mention this is terribly vulnerable?

Terribly.

I don’t know how Rara does it!

 

 

This is post #2 in Rara’s #Somethingist challenge. For my original post (which explains things), click  here. And then join the challenge! ;D

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I Am Not Apologizing

I am not apologizing for feeling fragile.

I am not apologizing for where I am at in life right now.

I am not apologizing for how I’ve grown up and for how it helped shape me into someone who has to learn how to walk, so to speak, now, in her early twenties.

I am not going to apologize for not telling the full story.

 

I am not going to apologize.

 

I am so tired of people getting their panties in a bunch because I’m not someone I’m not.

I’m feeling vulnerable, I’m learning new things, I’m building up strength I should’ve been building as a child. I am speaking truthfully sometimes instead of sugar coating.

 

People don’t understand.

They don’t want to.

People, for instance, who don’t understand things they’ve never experienced. Like depression. They just want people to suck it up, get out of bed, knock it off, and change their lives, stop moping. Some people can’t understand.

I’m tired of feeling I have to justify what I feel.

 

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I am not apologizing for someone else’s issues.

For saying no.

 

I am not going to apologize.

For having to learn to allow myself to cry.

For not being fearless.

I think a little courage is what we all need, not to be fearless. Fearless is the toddler that touches the burner even though she’s been warned it will burn her. Fearless is jumping into unneeded danger. Fearless is a lack of common sense. A little fear for the right reasons is healthy.

Courage is being afraid but doing what one must anyway. Working through the fear, the terror, the paralyzing panic that tells me I can’t do this, can’t get through this, can’t muster up.

What I want is courage. And I won’t apologize for only having discovered this.

 

I am not going to apologize for not having a clear direction.

Not understanding what I feel half the time.

I am not apologizing for making mistakes.

I am not apologizing for being different than you.

For learning slower than you.

For having experienced less than you.

 

I am not apologizing for caring about the things I do.

For feeling the ways I do, all at the same time, feeling like my head and heart are spinning madly out of control, spending all my energy on trying to keep my head up.

I am not apologizing for taking baby steps.

For being emotional.

For being unemotional on the outside.

 

I guess I am not going to apologize for being stuck.

For feeling trapped inside my own skin. Inside this cage I no longer recognize but call home. Inside this never ending sadness, feeling so alone, so overwhelmed, overcrowded, helpless.

I am not going to apologize for having weakness.

I am most certainly not going to apologize for just now learning to find my own strength.

 

I am realizing that I don’t need to apologize.

Scratch that. I get it now.

I don’t need to justify myself to others.

I don’t need someone to understand me if it means sacrificing who I am. I want to be understood, to be accepted, yes. Most everyone does. And I don’t need to apologize for that either.

 

I’m not apologizing for changing my mind.

For taking forever to make decisions because its difficult for me to find out what I want, what I feel, what I actually think.

I am not apologizing for being a little lost.

I am not apologizing for needing space.

I am not apologizing for being angry.

Feeling confused.

Being jaded.

Naïve.

 

I am not apologizing for being unfinished.

Conflicted.

I am not apologizing for my honesty.

For needing my own identity.

I deserve my own thoughts, emotions, desires. My own freedom to live and breathe inside my own skin and not to doubt that I’m justified in doing so.

 

 

I am not apologizing for clomping through the muck until I find healthy perspective in the middle somewhere.

Life is messy. Personalities, reasons, ideals, actions -it all collides and mixes together, clashes or matches, whirls past one other. No one has this thing figured out. We’ve all got questions and insecurities and wonderments, confidence and common sense, bad days and magnificent days.

Not apologizing for that.

 

I am going to sit here and quite happily, quite painfully, be.

I am not apologizing.

 

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Blank Page

Sometimes life looks like this:

 

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An empty page never frightens me.

I rather crave it. Always have. And I’m not just talking, as a writer, about a blank piece of paper.

 

Do you ever start to tell someone something and then realize you’re not sure you want to be that vulnerable? Maybe you don’t want them to know that about you.

But then, at the same time, something inside you is daring you to spill it anyway.

Like the little devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other.

“Tell!”

“No, don’t tell. And get a mint.”

“Yes, tell! It’s worth, like, twenty donuts if you do!”

 

What kind of devil trades in donuts? And says, ‘like’.

Don’t judge me; I haven’t slept in a month.

My point.

Do you ever wonder if you’re easily readable or transparent at certain times?

Ok, that wasn’t my point. I don’t remember my point.

 

My point is, what does it bring to mind, that blank page and what I began to say?

I wrote a blog post but then deleted 9/10ths of it. Can you guess what I was about to talk about? Or pretend it’s a writing prompt and tell me the strangest story possible surrounding it. Humor me…

No… Really… *HUMOR ME*

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An Authentic Mess: Time for Something New

I guess when everything falls apart, and you finally reach that breaking point, where you’re pissed off but you decide enough is enough – you begin to search for your way home.

 

I’ve run away from home. From my soul.

By running away from my hopes and dreams. By running away from my identity.

I guess my heart has grown stale.

A person can only take so much living for others, with their heart and soul walled off from their consciousness, before they start to lose it.

 

Enough fear. Enough seeking for the world to approve of me. Enough hating myself, berating myself, and doubting myself.

I can’t fix those things instantly, but I’m tired of the downward slope.

It’s time to head upward.

 

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No one is going to hand me my identity. No one is going to pop up in a haze of fairy dust, smack me upside the head with a wand, and declare that, “I, Daphne, am so and so”. I’m not going to have a “moment” where everything becomes clear and I just “know” who I am. No one else is going to find me.

That’s my job.

So to hell with fixing other people, with throwing my soul out the window, and jumping on someone else’s circus. I’ve got my own thank you! I’m going to deal with my issues.

And I have every right to enjoy finding myself.

 

So who am I?

This is an interesting question.

I don’t have the slightest idea.

But that’s where we all start, isn’t it?

 

It reminds me of a comment Brian left on my blog, on the fourth post I ever wrote:

bwtaylor75

June 3, 2012 at 5:19 am

It sounds like you grew up during that whole university fiasco. Without living for yourself you become a drone, mindless and controlled. At some point, for better of worse, we must take the controls and navigate our own way through life. Better to figure these things out early on, than look back with regret. The simple fact is everything we do makes us who we are, even the mistakes. The smart ones keep learning and finding ways to improve themselves.

It takes courage to stand on your own. Stay true to yourself and good things will happen.

“Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.”–Mark Twain

 

He nailed it right on the head.

A drone.

Mindless.

Controlled.

 

You don’t just wake up one morning and have it all figured out. This will take me time, I’ll make mistakes, and get emotional.

But I’m done being down in the dumps. I’ll have my days but I’m not getting stuck there anymore. I can be hopeful and down at the same time.

Kind of like that phrase – I need to get my demons on my side.

Honestly – who on earth wouldn’t want a demon as their backup? (fantasy not biblical demons, here people) I mean really – best thing ever. Could you imagine if someone tried to steal your wallet?

 

I’m doing this to myself.

I’m tired of giving myself unnecessary rules and restrictions. I’d rather be a mess. An authentic mess. Random, emotional, unpredictable, and vulnerable. But real.

So let’s move forward, shall we?

 

Maybe you need to fall flat on your butt and struggle in the muck for a while before you decide it would be easier to stand up and, like a sunflower, aim for the food you need, regardless of how messy the field is you’re planted in.

 

Do you know who you are? Did you ever struggle to find your identity? Ever allow the world or someone in your world to control who you “became”?

 

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