Reblogged from Thinking Allowed...:

Anyway, in order to get out of my funk, I chose to engage in my favorite activity:  GIVING!

I decided to do what I do each and every month around this time.  Since I get paid once a month, I take a portion of my earnings and send a card or letter with some cash and kind words to a random stranger.  I choose my “victim” by opening up the white pages and then I put my finger down….where ever it lands is the address I choose to send the gift to.  I make an effort not to look at the name and to forget the address as soon as possible in order to keep it completely random.

Today though, I added a different flavor to my giving.  I wandered through  my local natural foods market and surrounding stores explaining my monthly act of kindness.  I asked each person I approached to either add some nice words to the card I selected and/or contribute some cash to the donation.  I was surprised to find that all but two people I approached were completely excited to participate.  In just about one hour, the card was FILLED with kind words and about forty dollars (and counting) to send off to a random stranger.  One woman even donated a special stamp with a heart on it, so the card could be sent with love.

Now, I don’t believe in completely selfless good deeds.  It is my opinion that it is only natural that the giver gets just as much as the receiver in these sorts of scenarios.  For me, what I received was the use of my voice for the greater good.  I got to take the negativity I was experiencing and project that voice into creating a kind action which I hope has inspired a ripple of creative generosity throughout the lives of about 30 or so people today.  For others, I don’t know.  I do know that I advised those who could not find any words to express in the card to just write the thing that they most needed to hear today.  Maybe they received confirmation of the wonderful things that needed some attention within themselves.  I do know that one man was elated as he thanked me over and over for giving him the opportunity to participate in such a fun and outside the box idea…. he said, “You just made my day!”

Anyway, I am just happy that I took the time to get outside of myself and my issues to truly spread some sunshine on my own day as well as the days of others.

I actually don’t feel like myself… it’s still been a struggle, but I do feel satisfied that I did something different today.  I am even more excited for the recipient of this gift.  I am going to continue to pimp the card and donations out tomorrow and then send it off.

I have to say that I am completely impressed that so many people were eager to be a part of my monthly giving.  I really do live in a great community and I do feel so excited to see proof of all the goodness in the world.

As I read through the card, I was just so excited to see so many amazing words that will be shared with a complete stranger.  How cool is that?

I wonder if the recipient will be rich or poor.  I wonder if they will be inspired to pay forward what they receive or if it will be a welcome ray of hope in the midst of hardship.  I do know for sure that whoever gets it will be very pleasantly surprised.

As for me…. Tomorrow is a brand new day and I intend to greet it with an attitude of empowered gratitude.

Thank you.

I am a binge eater.  I have always used food to feel better and to numb my pain, much like an alcoholic uses alcohol to numb their pain and dissociate from life.  Though in the past, I understood that I used food in unhealthy ways to distance myself from my feelings, it was never a big deal.  I mean, I am thin.  My “fat” body is 128 pounds and honestly when I am healthy and treating my body right by listening to its needs (and even enjoying regular indulgences), others label me as too thin.

Last year, before my eating disorder reared its ugly head, a woman I work with looked at me and said, “When I look at you, I think anorexic… I want to bring a scale in here and do weigh ins with you.”  I knew when she said that,  it was a projection from her own reality and that her daughter struggled with anorexia for a long time.  I know that how she saw me had nothing to do with me.  At any rate, I felt bad… like I needed to change to make her like me.  Though I understood it’s not my responsibility to change who I am to make someone happy, I really really struggled with not going home and binging on anything just to make myself more acceptable…. more loveable even.

Last year, a couple from AZ who camps out in my room mates back yard every summer in their RV shared their worry for my body before they left.  “Currie.  You are too thin.  You are skeletal.  Men don’t date girls like you…. please stop starving yourself… we will buy you new clothes.”  Now, to give you some context, they are both obese people… that is their reality.  Someone like me does not fit in their lifestyle or the mirror through which they see the world.  Again, I found myself eating several pieces of cake that night just to show them that not only do I eat, but I am not afraid of junk food and I took it to a whole unhealthy level of eating just to make them stop worrying about me.

In December, I embarked on a very long cleanse.  I was so excited to clean out my body.  I didn’t care whether I lost weight and to be honest with you, the Pollyanna within me didn’t think I would actually lose weight.  I am aware that my natural body is very thin… so I honestly didn’t think my body would get any thinner.  At any rate, I was just so excited to embark on several weeks of cleansing herbs and very clean eating to kind of reset my body after years of secret binging (I mostly only engage in binge eating when I am alone… when I don’t have to be neat or think about chewing my food… I only do it in front of others when I am trying to prove that I am not in any way starving myself).

Anyway, the Pollyanna inside of me turned out to be wrong.  I lost weight.  Way too much weight.  I was a startling 96 pounds.  Too thin.  Not cute.  Way too thin.  At one point during the cleanse, I found myself having severe pain all down the left side of my body… to the point where I could barely crawl out to the kitchen to grab my phone and call for help.  At that point I cut back on herbs… but refused to stop.  I mean, I paid 200 dollars for this AND did a lot of trade work to offset the other half of the cost.  I am not rich… I didn’t want to flush that money and on top of that I made a commitment to myself.  I chose to keep it.  To me, one of the worst feelings in the world is letting myself down.

When the cleanse ended, I gave myself one week to eat whatever I wanted.  Then, I went back to clean eating.  I was just a few pounds shy of my healthy body and was feeling INCREDIBLE.  I felt alive in a way I had never ever felt in my entire life.  I made a commitment that I would keep this feeling going as long as possible because I was engaging with life in the most amazing way.

I let myself down.

Why?

Not for the reasons you would think.  It had nothing to do with having extremely disciplined eating for so long and then letting go.

It was an emotional trigger.

As you might remember, I recently wrote about my lack of dating life.  I told you about the guy who reminded me of my biological father who became weepy on our date.

Well, that is the exact situation that triggered my recent daily consumption of copious amounts of flour fried in sticks of butter.  That is the exact situation that triggered going to the store after work to purchase 6 doughnuts on a daily basis plus cupcakes and muffins which would be consumed completely by the time I got home, at which time I would start making several pan sized pancakes which I would eat for hours on end until it was time to go to bed.  That is the exact situation that took my power away…. or rather, that I gave my power away to.

It is embarrassing to share what I’ve been doing to my body.  In fact, most people don’t know.  I have always binged in private.  When I am in my healthy body, actively engaging in clean eating, I still had one or two days a week when I would eat a whole pizza and/or toss back a few bags of cookies.  No one knew that though… I did it alone and anyway, at that point, I was in control of my binging.  I could turn it off and resume a balanced and healthy lifestyle the next day.

Now, however, I am experiencing real difficulty turning it off.  Food has become my worst enemy.  But unlike the alcoholic who has the luxury of walking away from the substance which runs their life… I have to engage with food.  It’s a necessity.

When I taste food, it triggers my inner addict.  I cannot stop.  Each day is an uphill battle in which I am trying to get back in the drivers seat of my own life.  I am honestly barely functioning and have looked into eating disorder clinics so as to have people hold me accountable for my eating and also work on the ever so important emotional element through therapy.  No such luck though… those clinics are expensive and I can’t afford to leave work for a few weeks or months in order to fix myself.

On the plus side, I am slowly regaining control.  Tomorrow represents a big turning point for me.  I have stopped keeping food in the house and make myself walk to buy small amounts of ingredients for my meals each day.  I have stopped drinking tea in the morning because as I wait for it to steep, I eat the whole container of raw honey or mulberries or whatever I use to sweeten my tea (as well as the whole gallon of almond milk) while it steeps.  However, today I went and bought some matte and some coconut nectar.  I am choosing to trust that I can simply have one delicious matte latte each morning this week and allow my ingredients to last more than one day.  To be honest with you, I am very nervous.  I want to trust myself.  I don’t want to waste my money and hurt my body through stuffing my feelings down… (Oh did I mention, I literally eat all of my money these past few months… I spend and eat approximately 1000 dollars a month).  The worst part is that those who judged me as anorexic when I was healthy are finally accepting of me and think I look great… since I am by no means fat (which I am thankful for), no one sees what I’m really doing and now I’ve become acceptable.  They tell me I look great and that I have distorted body image disorder… they offer me loads of chocolate and pizza.  It’s hard to resist and its even harder to say, “I am the equivalent of an alcoholic with food… really, would you offer an alcoholic a beer?  Please don’t offer me this stuff until I am back in the drivers seat of my life.”  They don’t get it and think I’m seeing myself through some distorted lens.

I can’t stand these people… but I have to interact with them.  Anyway, I understand that it’s none of their business what I’m going through, it’s none of their business what is healthy for me.  Most importantly, it’s none of my business what they think of me…. easier said than done.  I still find myself compulsively trying to make them happy.

Back to my feelings and emotions… right (sorry I digressed).

Really, what happened on that date, was a pretty interesting and clear repeat of a conversation I had with my biological father when I was 13 years old.  As my date started to cry, I remembered a conversation I had with my father as he was getting sober several years ago (after he left the hospital after a suicide attempt).  I remembered how my father cried.  I remember how my father grabbed my hands and wouldn’t let go.  I remember him telling me how special I was and how he needed me.  I remember feeling deeply uncomfortable as the only thing I said to him was, “I’m proud of you.”  I remember attending several AA meetings with him as he retold the story through tears that I was the one keeping him going… that I said, “Daddy, I love you.. and I am so proud of you.”  I never called that man daddy and in that conversation he referred to over and over again, I never said I love you.  I never corrected him either.  I stayed quiet.  I remained his quiet, cute little daughter who was his lifeline, keeping him going.  Overnight I became daddy’s little girl to a man I don’t even like and never said I was not okay with it.

About five years ago, I made contact with my whole family.  I truly wanted to heal the resentment I felt toward them and thought the only way to do so was to build a relationship with them.  When speaking with my father, I told him I wanted to discuss why we hadn’t had a relationship for so long… since at that time, I thought that was the only way to forgive.   I told him I never said those things.  He gasped, “What is wrong with you?”  I told him nothing was wrong with me, but that I deserved to have my truth spoken.  I went on to say that I was not daddy’s little girl and never wanted to be.  “Why are you telling me these things?” he asked.  I told him it was the truth and he told me there was something wrong with me.

You know I bought into that for years?  From the time he got sober, he told me there was something wrong with me.  I believed it so much that I lived it until I was about 25 years old.  I thought there was something wrong with me so much that I faked a suicide attempt when I was 21 just so I could get a label and finally know what was wrong with me.

When I told him I never actually swallowed any pills the night of my biggest acting debut… the night that I put myself on a mental ward and FINALLY got the label I always wanted (or rather he always wanted) after less than five minutes of speaking with a doctor who was obviously getting kick backs from the drug companies since everyone except for one person had the SAME label and was on the SAME medication, my father was shocked.  He gasped again, “What is the matter with you?  Are you taking your medication?”  At this point I almost hit the roof, “No, there is nothing wrong with me, I don’t need to be medicated.  Why do you need me to be mentally ill?”  He told me he didn’t, but that a doctor called it and doctors are always right.  I was exasperated as I told him that from less than five minutes of talking to and meeting someone, they cannot be diagnosed and also I never actually swallowed any pills that night.  I even apologized to him for lying all that time…I expressed my grief for doing something so terrible…  I guess I was hoping he would drop the need to judge me and label me and of course, the need for there to be something wrong with me.  It was all in vain though…. he held to the fact that I did actually try to commit suicide that night and that I was obviously wrong.. and of course that there was something wrong with me.

The conversation got worse.  I unearthed a big issue I had which at that time was still lying dormant but which I had an icky feeling was right.  You see, when I was a teenager visiting my father in Florida, when we were at the beach he wanted to play a game of “real or fake” guessing whose breasts were real or whose were not as they walked along the beach.  If there was a pretty woman jogging down the road or walking along the beach, he would always say, “Daddy like.”  Gross, I know. I didn’t think anything of it other than it made me feel uncomfortable and I never spoke up since I thought there was something wrong with me if I used my voice.  During that visit, I remember him getting in bed and spooning me when I wasn’t feeling well.  I was 17 years old.  Maybe that is normal for fathers and daughters who are close.  I don’t know.  My father thought we were close and I guess it’s my fault for not speaking up and telling him that I didn’t feel close to him and that him getting in bed with me was not okay.  I remember watching MTV… (a Gwen Stefani video) with my father.  Again I was laying in bed and he laid down behind me.  He said, “Daddy like.”  I did sort of voice my distaste at that point and he said, “What, she’s pretty?!”  Okay, but there is just something so inherently creepy about ones father saying “Daddy like”…. at least in my opinion.  To be honest with you, throughout that whole video, he had his hands down his pants…. which again, I didn’t think much of, because since I could remember, if he was laying down, he almost always had his hands down his pants.

When he would hug me, his hands would always wander too close to my butt.  When I was wearing shorts he would tell me how much I had my mothers legs.  When we were sitting across from one another he would look into my eyes for long periods of time.  When we were in a car together he would always hold my thigh like my future boyfriends would do… as I grew older, I really started to see and question my fathers behavior toward me.  Though his physical ways of showing affection toward me always made me uncomfortable, I still never said a word….

Until this conversation.

I actually was gentle during this conversation.  During each stage of our talk and each uncomfortable thing I brought up, I was attempting to take my power back and use my voice, but at the end of each “chapter” I attempted to bring closure to, the same result was had.  “What’s wrong with you?” was his response.  Maybe I really am crazy… maybe he is right.  I mean the very definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.

So, I gently told him all of these things.  He was quiet.  Then I told him that I have a feeling that he was just really inappropriate with me at some point in my life but I couldn’t remember…. I genuinely asked if that was the case.  I told him I actually would not get mad (I meant it and I even told him if that was the case, that I would be willing to work through the issue with him)…. I was just so confused by the feeling I had since I didn’t have a memory to back it up.

Again his response was the same, “What is wrong with you?”  Except this time it was laden with expletives and ended with him slamming the phone and hanging up on me.

As I sat there shaking (confrontation has never been easy for me), I quietly whispered to myself, “But there isn’t anything wrong with me… I just want to understand…”

A few years later, while engaging in some free form writing, I felt blocked… terribly blocked as I wrote myself into a spiral of pain that wouldn’t go away.  The subject that kept coming up was my father.  I wouldn’t go any further when he came into my consciousness… even when I tried to push through and let my feelings out, nothing would come out…. I was so angry.  So, in order to walk way from my pain, I opened my laptop and attempted to use the worlds most effective time suck (the internet) to occupy my mind on something else.  My computer froze and would not open Firefox, nor would it turn off.

I walked outside and sat in silence as I quietly felt irritated by my feelings and even more irritated by my computer which had never frozen before.  I looked up at the stars and as I quieted my mind, the memory gently and ever so quietly fell into my consciousness, much like a feather which is falling from the sky.

“Oh my… woah.” was my response.

I remembered a time when I was laying on the couch with my father (this was not a forgotten memory) and my mother pulled into the drive way.  As she walked up to our door, he said, “Okay, let’s play a fun game and when mommy walks in, just pretend like we were sleeping… if mommy asks what we were doing, just tell her we were sleeping.”  I’ve always remembered those words but didn’t understand what they meant and honestly I didn’t think anything of them…. I guess we avoid or ignore the uncomfortable truth that sometimes stares us right in the face.  As a little girl, I couldn’t understand why we had to play such a meaningless game… but I played along.  He was definitely inappropriate with me under the covers that night.  My father molested me.  Was it just that one time?  I don’t know.  I don’t care to know any more or remember anything else.

There I said it.

I wonder if that’s why he needed me to have something wrong with me since he got sober.  I mean, he couldn’t run away from the fact that he was a raging alcoholic.  Everyone knew.  He couldn’t hide from the fact that he beat my brother and mother bloody often.  He couldn’t hide that he had a terrible temper.  Those were things everyone saw quite often and he had to own them.

But, since I’ve always been a very gentle person… a people pleaser… one who wants to make others happy and who really avoids making others uncomfortable, I suppose it was easy to disown what he did and put it on my shoulders (unfortunately I used to have a tendency to take on what others need me to)  I suppose since no one knew, he didn’t have to own it.  I suppose that if everyone thought there was something wrong with me, he wouldn’t have to own up to it….

I can’t know why he won’t admit to it.  Maybe he has dealt with so much as he got sober and has worked through the ways in which he has inflicted pain on others, that taking on one more thing that can easily be put on me as something wrong with me, might put him over the edge.  Maybe making me wrong is the easy way out for him.  Maybe making me crazy is the way he keeps himself sane.

Last year, through my own mistake, I had my phone number publicly posted on LinkedIn.  He called me.  He asked me how my life was and I told him.  Though the whole time I was annoyed with myself.  I mean, I don’t owe him anything… but I felt obligated to keep talking.  He told me he was calling because he feels disconnected from his daughter.  I kind of felt like property at that point.  “Okay.” was my response..  He went on to ask if we could have a relationship.  I was proud of my strength as I said “No.”  I offered no explanation either.  He quietly said, “I need you to know that I was never inappropriate with you.”  Again, I said, “Okay.”  He went on looking for me to accept his truth.  I didn’t.  I didn’t want to talk about it.  I don’t want him in my life. I want to forgive him… but I don’t want a relationship with him.  In doing that, I need to stop feeling guilt and shame for not being who he needs me to be…. and for speaking up for ME.

I haven’t given our conversation a second thought… until recently as I see there is a part of me that needs healing.  The part of me that never felt worthy of using my voice.  The part of me that feels like I need to stay quiet in order to make others happy.  The part of me that feels like I need to change who I am in order to meet the expectations of others.

Something needs to be done.  I am honestly not sure what.  I don’t need to contact my father.  I don’t think I care what he thinks… but I don’t want to make him or anyone else uncomfortable either.  I think that because of my interaction with him as a young girl, I have become overly concerned with making others happy.

Interesting how that one date and speaking my truth of not feeling connected with that guy has triggered so much healing.  Even more interesting that my friends response of being disappointed in me for not being interested in her friend triggered a strong feeling of guilt in me.  I felt terribly sad that I gently stood up for my wants and needs and ultimately let others down.  Interesting how when I spoke my truth to my father, I felt terribly guilty even though I attempted to be gentle.  Interesting how the day on the phone a few years ago with my father, I immediately started making cookies and stuffing my voice down.  Even more interesting that the day my friend told me she was disappointed in me, I started doing the same thing…..

Why am I choosing to not deal with this appropriately?  Why am I still choosing as an aware adult to stuff my feelings down?  Why do I not feel worthy of my voice?  Why do I willingly place my worth in the hands of others?  There is no logical reason to carry on like this.

I don’t know how to fully step into my power and take it back…..

Here’s a way to start:

Just because you donate some sperm to make a baby does not make you someone’s dad.  It takes work to be a parent.  Unfortunately we didn’t bond and you were too consumed with your life to take the time to be a parent during crucial times.  Lucky for me, I had my Godfather who was my dad.  He was there to do the work, to kiss my boo boos, to play games with me, to protect me and so much more.  No, he was not perfect.  He made some big mistakes, but to me… if I would call anyone daddy, it would be him.  To this day, I carry his legacy in my heart and feel thankful that he helped to mold me into the lovely things that make me who I am today.  I will work to forgive you, but I don’t want to be your property.  Yes, you are one of the reasons I exist… but I don’t owe anything to you for that.  I have a right to my voice.  I have a right to my feelings and there is nothing wrong with me.

As for anyone else who judges me, well, as my friend said last year as I worked unsuccessfully to make others happy, “Currie… stop trying to please the haters, you are not the jerk whisperer.”  It’s true.  My intention is to become in even greater alignment with that truth.  It’s none of my business what others think of me.  I do know this.  It is not my responsibility to change who I am to make others happy.  This I know.  I hope to live this soon.

What about you?  Have you dealt with any debilitating people pleasing?

Naturally, I pick it up, since there is no buyers remorse involved and all it takes is a second to kneel down, pick it up and gently deposit it into its warm and cozy new home called “my pocket.”

It’s a strange little collection I’ve been unconsciously building and until the other day, I had no idea why I kept picking up rocks.  You see, as I was discussing an old friend with my health coach in the midst of vulnerably sharing about my recent health woes, the discussion naturally took a turn toward the emotional side of things.  My coach pointed out that my old friend seemed to serve as a rock at pivotal points in my life and not only does it make sense that I am searching for a rock in my current hardship, but it’s perfectly okay and even necessary to long for a sense of stability, even if it comes in the form of a memory which may or may not serve me anymore in present day. Ultimately, we all deserve and need some sort of “rock” in our lives…. and suddenly, my new fascination with rocks made perfect sense.

At any rate, as a result of our discussion, I ended up embracing the old longing which had been uncomfortably festering in the depths of my being. I reached out to the old friend… and honestly, I’m sort of sorry I attempted to open that can of worms because now I see that it really wasn’t necessary at all, it was merely an old and unconscious response to perceived fear.

You see, today at school, I got the best present ever from a two-year old. Recently, I’ve begun a new sort of tradition with one of my kids. Before the other classes and teachers come out and it is just my class outside, little Kayla and I sit on a swing and giggle as I use my legs to swing us both as high as we will go. It’s rather fun since Kayla is a pretty fun and quirky kid…  (I’ve become her human recliner).  Today it was even more perfect because there wasn’t a cloud in the sky… the weather was slightly chilly, but not too cold and just brilliantly bright and terribly clear.

(Photo by:  Photohouse)

My body radiated with joy as Kayla pressed her back into me, communicating that it was time to recline and fully take in the sky above. As we both stretched out and  took in the vast blue above, all I could hear were her giggles and happy words of “higher” and “fun” and of course, “WEEEEEEEE!” I honestly look forward to recess as much as the kids do because I enjoy those few minutes of complete freedom and fun in the middle of my day… and today, when I indicated to her that it was time to get down so I could be a teacher again, she quickly got down and gathered some rocks from the ground and presented them to me before I could stand up.

Kayla handed me a tiny handful of even tinier rocks with the biggest smile on her face. At first I didn’t think anything of it, I mean toddlers constantly give me little tokens of affection in the form of dirt, sand, random toys or anything they find oober cool.. but then the fullness of the gift suddenly registered… I don’t think Kayla understands how much I crave stability right now.. but she gifted me a tiny handful of reminders which symbolize the different forms of stability in my life. I don’t have the one big and stable rock that I long for, but I do have little rocks here and there that do keep me anchored and safe against the sometimes unexpected and uncomfortable twists of fate… For that I am grateful. I was also reminded that I don’t want to reach backward for stability. I want to be grateful for what I have as I reach for what I want.

I know it sounds small, but it was just such a powerful reminder of all that is good in my world.

Sometimes it really is the little things that truly inspire me to wake up and change my mind.

What about you? What is your rock? How do the little gifts in life inspire you to become an even better version of yourself?

Thanks.

Last year, I ran into him on Christmas Day quite randomly.  This time, I found him attractive…. or rather, I guess I was open enough to see (and not reject) his inner and outer beauty. 

I agreed to go out with him.

On our date, I really did hold the intention to be open…. but as he spoke, I couldn’t help but want to get as far away from him as possible.

You see, I believe we are all a mirror for one another.  We cannot see in anyone something that does not exist in ourselves.

As he spoke, he openly and proudly called himself a people pleaser.  Those are two words, when put together, make me cringe….. It has been my experience that people pleasers tend to not only be doormats, but also carry a high propensity toward co-dependency and generally don’t know how to please themselves.  Having spent time in the company of people pleasers, I find they try so hard to make others happy, that in the process don’t hear or even honor their own needs and then grow resentful as other people do what is right for themselves. 

Have you met anyone like this?

After I got home and ducked an almost goodnight kiss, I sat and thought about myself and my own phobias surrounding intimacy.  I thought about our topics of conversation and realized that omg, I am rejecting the people pleaser in me…. that’s why I was so disgusted by his use of the words people pleaser… because I am one too. 

But it was worse with me because I’ve been walking around projecting that aspect of myself on others… not once taking the time to see that the only reason why I see it and am repelled by it is because I am a people pleaser.

Yuck.

He asked me out a few more times, but I chose not to go.  In all honesty, he reminded me very much of a lighter haired version of my ex-husband.  And to be even more honest, ever since I separated from him, it has been my intention to heal so as to not have the same exact relationship patterns repeated with people who simply look different from almost the same person. 

I’ve just seen so many people who, right after they break up with their significant other, start dating and since they haven’t healed their past wounds or found forgiveness for themselves or others, simply have the same dysfunctional relationships over and over and over again.  I think being single to work on oneself is tremendously valuable and necessary sometimes.

With that being said, I don’t claim to be perfect…. I’ve been single for over 6 years and honestly though I know I’ve grown and evolved tremendously, I am starting to think that maybe there is something wrong with me.  Maybe I’m so married to self awareness, that it’s impossible for me to be open enough to find a healthy partnership.

I’ve gone on two dates in the past few months and both have left me feeling dreadfully disgusted with my own self. 

The first one, in all honesty, what I saw was a skin crawling reflection of my biological father.  I’m not trying to judge, but based on my raw experience, I saw a needy and desperate man sitting across from me.  Someone who I had nothing in common with and couldn’t find any part of his chosen conversation that I agreed with and wasn’t concerned about.  When he grew weepy and teary eyed, I was transported to a time when I was 13 years old, sitting across from my father as he cried and I felt the weight of his needs crash down on me like a ton of bricks, literally knocking me down and taking my breath away as I contorted myself to be who he needed me to be so he wouldn’t feel bad anymore.  In a nutshell, I let my father define my thoughts and feelings… and control who I was.  I gave my power away to him completely once upon a time as I was desperate for approval.  Though as a 13- year- old, I didn’t understand what I was doing or why…  now, as an adult I get it and don’t ever want to experience that level of psychological damage again.  I haven’t spoken to my father for a long time and haven’t seen him for even longer… for good reason (perhaps I’ll dive into that at a later date).  At any rate, I will do anything in my power to avoid repeating that pattern ever again.

As my date swallowed his tears, I exercised compassion, but also saw that it is not my responsibility to spend time with someone I don’t feel connected to, just so that they feel better…. And, though he had high hopes for spending time with me, I think it’s better for the both of us in the long run when I was straightforward and stated that I was not interested. 

I was actually proud of myself for being so honest.  I was kind yet I honored my own feelings.  Score…. I think that is a good, solid step moving away from people pleasing.

Yay me!

….. It came with consequences though.  The friend who set us up, let me know she was disappointed in me.  I tried to talk to her about it, but got a quick and clear, “Yep….I don’t have time for this and see you around….” 

Point taken….

Though I’m still proud of myself for not caring so much what others think of me and not chasing her down in an attempt to get her to change her mind about something she was obviously emotionally invested in… I started doing something else unhealthy.

What’s that?

I began stuffing my voice down….. literally.

I began eating like I’ve never eaten before.  Binging on a scary level.  Eating anything I can find for hours on end…. eating things in excess that before I could say no to or reserve for once a day rather than hours on end of eating and eating to fill a void or cover my voice.

I’m not proud of this behavior.  I am very lucky that even when I’m “fat” I’m skinny.  However, what I’m doing is not healthy and it hurts… physically… and my clothes don’t fit.

At first, I think this eating thing was triggered by falling short of making others happy… but now as I have journaled about it…. I laugh… because I’m starved for love… and disappointed that I can’t find it in a way that satiates my hunger.  Every time I binge, I kind of laugh at myself… it reminds me of that part of “Eat, Pray, Love” where Liz is gorging herself on fried potatoes in order to satisfy her longing.  That’s exactly what I’m doing….. to be honest with you, I’m over it.  Summer is coming and my shorts won’t button.  I don’t want to buy new shorts because they are expensive and in all honesty, consuming approximately 5,000 calories a day isn’t normal and I have a great metabolism (so when this phase ends… I’ll quickly fit in my clothes again… seems like a waste of money to buy clothes I’ll need only very short term).

Moving on.

My next date.

He was terribly nice and real.  He was totally honest about who he was and even fun to hang out with.  I felt like I could talk and he would listen, rather than talking at me like he was in some sort of interview process.  I felt safe around him and even laughed a lot.  He wasn’t nervous to hang with me or to make a good impression… he was simply himself, which made it easy for me to enjoy myself.  He was like an old friend I had known forever.

So, what’s the problem?

Well, two of them actually.

First and foremost, I’m simply not attracted to him.  I kind of wish I was. 

Other than that, he too offered up an opportunity for growth, which brings me to reason number two.  He doesn’t value himself.  As I spoke, I told him everything I am doing and hope to accomplish in the next few years….

His response?  “Wow, you have a lot of….. goals.”

Me:  “Well yeah, what’s the point without goals?… they make life worth living.  Do you have any goals?”

Him:  “No.”

I mean, at least he wasn’t pretending.  He was totally honest.  He doesn’t have a job and he doesn’t have goals…. he recently swapped out a pot addiction for drinking by himself and though he has opportunities to pursue things that interest him, he doesn’t. 

Again, I’m not perfect.  I get it.  Sometimes I lack motivation too.

But I don’t want to date someone who doesn’t see value in having goals no matter how big or small they are.  I don’t want to be with someone who needs other people to motivate them to pursue their own interests. 

I don’t want to be that catalyst for someone else either.

What do I want?

I want someone who can hold their own…. who doesn’t need the approval of others.  I want someone who is ready to date and is not too attached to the idea of me… so they have room to see and even accept the real me.  I want someone who has goals and pursues them regardless of what others think.  I want someone who is compassionate and kind and good at the art of vulnerability… but doesn’t make those things their personal definition… who acknowledges that they are completely and perfectly imperfect.  I want someone who sees that only they can fix themselves and isn’t afraid to do the work required to be whole. 

Oh and is it too much to ask that they are funny, playful AND attractive (to me) too?

So, there you have it…

I do have some work to do.  *sigh*  I’m SO OVER being aware and peeling the layers of the psychological onion.  Sometimes I envy those who are okay being asleep and going through the motions…. but I also know that I attract these energies to me in order to wake up and evolve, to be whole and to fall in love with myself so that I am able to fully give and receive love with another.

I understand that there is someone out there for me…. maybe not the “one,” (I don’t believe in that)  but someone who doesn’t so clearly remind me of what’s “wrong” with me.  I know he exists… and I know that I am the only one who can shift my inner world so I can adjust my outer world and attract to me a truly fun and empowering partnership…. hopefully one that offers up mind blowing sex (hey it’s been over 6 years….)

So, I will work to mold myself into the empowered, stable and confident person that I am looking for.

There you have it.  I hope this is the last round of me being the phoenix that rises from the ashes for awhile.  I’m excited to be happy in my skin (and my shorts) again. I acknowledge that life is all about constant growth…. but I’m ready to move forward in my life…. I’ve been steadily making progress in all areas of my existence, except the one involving intimacy.  It is my goal to start enjoying that area of my life at my earliest convenience…. or at least have options to pursue that actually excite me.

So, I’m off to burn some calories and walk the dog.

Have a Happy Weekend!

I work one official job, a side job and a growing number of freelance projects that I love.  I have a wonderful professional reputation and others gladly talk me up and spread the word about what I can offer in the way of assistance.

I live in a home that has mostly turned out to be exactly what I didn’t even know that I needed.

I have found myself and I have even exhaled.  I am back to my normal size, my love of health has come back on (and I am positively elated to start a seven week raw foods cleanse with the most amazing raw/vegan fairy godmothers who are happily expanding my knowledge of health and wellness).

Did I mention I LOVE my regular job and my boss is AMAZING?  I even discovered that not only do I LOVE children, but I am good at working with them and teaching them too.  My boss tells me I’m a complete natural with kids and the day she met me, she knew I was the perfect candidate for the job.

I am finishing old debts (finally!) and even getting some new debt in the form of paying back my school loan to attend The Institute for Integrative Nutrition.

I’ve even got a fellow blogger (Anne from Enjoy my Adventure) creating a piece of art especially for me in honor of my 2013 keyword, “commitment” and sending it across the globe from Portugal to my door so that I may have some decoration in my room.  I am beyond ecstatic to receive whatever she makes because her art is beautiful and happy.   To see some of her eye pleasing work, please visit Enjoy my Design.

So, what more can a girl ask for?

Well two things….

First, I need a ride:

I want a car.  Not just any car, but a 2012 Barcelona Red Prius 4,  with the solar roof option, tinted windows, and 17 inch, 5 spoke alloy wheels PLUS studded snow tires for the Bend, Oregon winter that has recently dumped some snow on us.  That’s not all, either.  I want the interior to be dark grey, and matching all-weather AND carpet floor mats,  door edge guards, lower door moldings, the cargo net- envelope,  organizer,  and tote.  Last but certainly not least, I want a remote car starter, and a security system.

And I’m not done yet…

Even though I work probably seven days a week, and I love what I do, the money hasn’t exactly flowed in… perhaps since I do trades, stuff for free or just let people pay what they can (teaching little kids doesn’t exactly pay big bucks)… at any rate, at this point, I can’t exactly afford this car.

So.

I want my new ride to arrive in my drive way with a big, giant silver bow on top.

That’s not all.

I said I want two things, remember?

Second, PARIS!

I want to go to Paris in the winter.  I want to explore the Louvre for hours on end.  I want to see the city of lights aglow with a sparkling array of  lights which brilliantly illuminate my path.  I want to spend at least one of my nights dancing beneath the Eiffel tower as snow falls all around me, filling the air with that desperately delicious romantic silence.  I want to eat  my way through the city via the creamiest and puffiest pastries I can find and spend the days walking and taking in all the sights, sounds, architecture, history and energy of the city.  I want to be swept into random adventures with friendly locals and taken off the beaten path for some exotic and relaxed experiences which are filled with the sweet sounds of laughter and enjoyment.    I want to be be enchanted beyond my dreams and even consider making Paris my permanent home…. someday…

Yup, there you have it.

Yes, I know Christmas is in two days.

Hey, anything can change or happen in a split second and anyway, it never hurts to have a dream (or two of them), right?

Merry Christmas!

You see, several years ago when I was freshly separated (and not yet divorced), I enrolled in school.  It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do, what with school starting just two days after I arrived from a four-day road trip leaving my ex-husband and terribly dysfunctional yet incredibly comfortable life behind.

At that time, I was broken and overwhelmed by being bombarded with finding an apartment, getting work, settling paperwork and being mired in the depths of raw despair and low self-esteem that usually characterizes such a difficult time in life.

Photo Credit: © Rocky Reston | Dreamstime.com

Though school was difficult, it was the best choice for me and more than I understood at that time, it was incredibly healthy for me in that it got my mind focusing on other stuff.  I generally loved being in school until I started a summer term math class (this was now two or three months after the separation when I still hadn’t dealt with the pain and no matter how hard I tried to avoid my inner yuck, it kept trying to get my attention).  It was in this class for whatever reason that my emotions regularly assaulted me.  Maybe it was because it was a very long and condensed class that started at 8 am.  Maybe it was that my instructor, though he had good intentions was a little too dull to keep my attention.  Maybe it was because suddenly my brain was forced to work and as a result, it decided to purge the dead thoughts and emotions in order to make room for new information.

Whatever it was, I remember more than once leaving that class getting in my car and crying so hard that I could hardly breathe.  I remember trying to go to tutors, but my eyes would fill with tears which would slowly and then more quickly and uncontrollably drip all over the book and my notes.  I remember one tutor looking at me like, “What the hell is the matter with  you?”  I took that as a cue that I was not going to be able to swallow my pain and choked out, “It’s not you.  It’s not this… It’s me.  I have stuff going on…” and then I would pack my stuff and head off to a quiet place outside to cry uncontrollably again.

I’ve been told math is actually very therapeutic and based on that summer math class I would agree.  It’s almost like in order to do math, you MUST let you mind relax and if there is something blocking the information from going in, you will have to find a way to move it and clear a space… or deal with it.

Anyway, last night I saw a math instructor at one of my school functions.  I never took his class, but he did sub once for that summer math class and he always left an impression with me.  You see, he was the complete opposite of my monotone instructor.  This guy was lively and so obviously (and as he put it) “psychotic about math.”  He obviously loved what he was doing and had a way of taking complicated stuff which my brain was rejecting and made it so I almost understood (or accepted) it and was happy to do my homework after class.

I don’t think my words are doing justice, but after such a difficult few months and an incredibly torturous and emotional summer when all of my wounds felt so raw and exposed, his passion for his job and teaching somehow brightened my day in a very big way and in the midst of so much difficulty, somehow his sunny disposition really helped me on many different levels to find comfort in my math class and in my own personal difficulty, really, through laughter and learning.

Anyway, I never forgot that day and what I took away.  So, last night I opted to approach him and tell him how he touched my life about five years ago.

It turns out that he really appreciated hearing that and shared his own personal reasons why my approaching him meant something to him and he gave me a nice warm hug.

I think we both experienced some warm fuzzies from the brief exchange.

I felt so happy that I chose to take a second and share how he unknowingly helped me a long time ago and was even more happy that he so freely and authentically shared why what I told him really meant something to him.  I love that he so openly and graciously received the words I shared with him.

I am left thinking about all the other people who have touched my life for very brief periods of time, whom I have never shared what they did for me simply by being who they are…

We cross paths with so many wildly different people throughout our lives in such dramatically different situations.  Sometimes it is through good times and  others not so good that we find teachers who are willing to shed a little light on our lives (even if just very briefly).  There are so many people who are wandering this earth, never knowing what they have done for others and when (if) they find out are quietly touched and humbled by how special they were to someone at some random point in time.  I think it’s a beautiful exchange, really to find out that someone was so warmed by your mere energy…  I know I’ve been on the receiving end of finding out from someone that I somehow did something that touched another’s life on any normal day for me…  It’s a nice feeling.

Photo Credit: © Ichtor | Dreamstime.com

Anyway, I wonder how much it would mean in making this world a more authentic and inviting place if we took a second to tell others how they may have touched our lives at some point in time… How their presence served as a sort of healing balm on a certain part of our journey and how we always remembered the goodness they left in our lives.

You never know how you are affecting someone’s life….

Make sure you’re kind today… you never know who’s going to benefit from it.  Or, make sure you shine brilliantly just as you are because you never know how your natural light can illuminate someone’s path.

Thank you.

You see, this job surprised me with its opportunity as I was at the tail end of a summer nanny job AND wrapping up a house sitting gig at the same time (which was the last of  three consecutive house sitting jobs).  Now even though I house sit often, it is always my intention to out- do myself and leave the space I stayed in better than I found it (and this was a first time client…. so I wasn’t sure what exactly they were expecting upon home-coming…. so my perfectionist neurotic side was sort of running the show as I prepared for their arrival).  Anyway, between that and wrapping up the summer with three amazing little girls, packing in fun activities including horses AND needing to shop for my self (like in stores) to get a few clothing items for work, I was tired.  BTW, even when I have money, I DESPISE shopping in stores.  I ALWAYS prefer on-line shopping.

My lifestyle radically shifted over night (Oh and in store shopping left me with a fever and unable to move one night… I really don’t like being in stores to shop).

Anyway, since then I have been working a part-time job which gives me plenty of extra hours, plus teaching as well as doing free-lance writing and other random jobs for people.  I’M BUSY.  So busy, in fact that I have to turn down work.  I think I got those new problems I asked for a while back.

Honestly, I work between 5 and 9 hours a day.  Most nights, I find myself in bed by 7:45 and even staying up that late can be difficult.  My alarm is set for 5 a.m, but my body won’t let me sleep past 4:45 anymore.  Did I mention I work 6-7 days a week, 85% of my work revolves around 1 and 2 year olds, with another 10% revolving around kids aged 4-11?

Yup, life has changed and I’ve been in an adjustment stage.  My life revolves around this pattern:  Sleep, Coffee, Eat, Work, Work, Walk Home, Work, Clean Sometimes, Sleep and wish my body would sleep past 5, Coffee, Eat, Work…. You get the idea.

So, I hate to say it, but I don’t have a life.  A few minutes with my own self where I am able to relax and not plan something is priceless to me.  Not only do I not have a life, but I don’t have time to give or even think about random acts of kindness either….

….Until this morning.

Now that I have income coming in, I’ve made a commitment and a budget to give (You know the funny thing is with all this working, I don’t think I’m even making a full living wage yet… but I so LOVE everything I’m doing that I can’t see cutting any of it out and in fact I wish I had time for more).

This morning I pulled from my new giving budget and walked up to the drive through coffee stand where sometimes I get extra fuel on my way to work.   I  said, “I don’t want anything, just wanted to pay for the next persons latte or the next few coffees as my random act of kindness for the day.”  The barista said, “WOW.  Thanks!  That’s awesome!  Seriously?”  She obviously didn’t know who she was talking to.

My reply was, “Yes!”

Then I thanked her, headed to work and had a super fantastic day (Think my body is getting used to my new schedule).

There you have it.

You’ve been updated on my life and latest acts of giving (and my dislike of shopping).

Have a great night (it’s well past my bed time).

Please take a second to stop by Mari’s blog.  It is really and truly a beautiFULL space on the internet.

The rules for this nomination are the following:

1. Thank the person who nominated you.
2. Post the image on your blog.
3. Share 7 things about yourself.
4. Nominate fellow bloggers.
5. Let them know about the nomination.

Here are seven things about me:

1. I have a sadistic love of snow and winter.  I come alive when it is frigid outside.
2. I play well with kids.
3. I cannot stand talking on the phone and I despise texting even more.
4. I regularly buy my self flowers and keep them in a mason jar by my bed.  Right now, I have a playful and quirky bunch of pink and white gerbera daisies bringing joy to my mornings and evenings.
5. I am passionate about food and eating.  In fact, I became so addicted to a kale and arugula chimichurri from the farmers market over the summer, that I have a guy coming over tomorrow from the farm to deliver to my door about a 4 month supply of the stuff.  I’m so glad I reached out to them because not only do you get it cheaper if you buy it in bulk, but since they made too much this past week and they now know I’m probably their biggest fan, I am getting a HUGE discount AND they are making a home delivery.  How cool is that?  I’m kind of over the moon about it and feel terribly special.
6. I have recently rediscovered my domestic side and have been a cooking machine the past few weeks.  I forgot how much I like to play with food.
7. I wanted to do a special post about this, but gave it away to someone else and now have become too busy to announce it, but I got a job….. 2.5 of them.  I am one busy girl and am so grateful to have actually had the time and energy to write this.

My nominated bloggers, in no specific order, are as follows:

Fancy That, Fancy This:  This blog always makes me chuckle and I make a point to read it any time I get a chance.  I truly admire how straight forward and colorful Ameena is as she describes her daily adventures.

Enjoy My Adventure:  Anne is a truly inspiring individual, good blog friend and talented artist.  I am so glad to know her. 

A Real Food Lover:  I only recently found this blog, but am finding the recipes and tips interesting and even tasty.

A Leaf in Springtime:  This blog is just plain exquisite.  It’s like every time I look at it, I am transported to be an actual leaf in springtime, waking up, blooming and welcoming in the light.

Crunchy Betty:  I just found this blog as well.  Just happened upon it at about 5 am when over coffee pondering whether it was better to do a honey mask or just wash my face with local honey.  Thanks to this site, I decided to start simply washing my face with honey instead of just doing a weekly mask and I am much happier with the results.  (Yes it’s true, not only am I passionate about eating food, but I pretty much bathe it in and (since I work mostly with toddlers) wear it creatively too).

So, there it is:  I am beautiful, my nominees are beautiful and if you are reading this, you are beautiful!

Thank you!

Dear WordPress:  I have contacted you and have not heard back…. can you make it so I can comment on others blogs successfully 100 percent of the time again?  I really do enjoy the blogging community so very much.  Thank you.

Today, I chose a subject that I knew anyone could benefit from:  Forgiveness.  I mean, we can all use a little refresher on that subject every now and again.  The activity we did was placing a “resentment” bead in our shoes and to feel how uncomfortable and even painful it is to walk through life holding resentful feelings.  Next, we took the bead out and walked, hopped and skipped to illustrate how freeing and comfortable it is to release resentment and walk through life without any annoying bead in our shoes.  Last, we partnered up and took turns tracing each others feet and drew colors, pictures and words within our “sad and resentful foot” as well as our “happy foot.”

Photo Credit: © Dana Rothstein | Dreamstime.com

On the way home, I started thinking about the conversation my mother and I shared yesterday.  It was about my Godfather who was my dad growing up (for those of you who have not read the posts about my Godfather, I did have a biological father around as a child, but my Godfather played the role of my dad on so many different nurturing and protective and playful levels).

Anyway, I was telling my mom how when I recently received photos of my godfather from her, I did not feel happy.  I didn’t even feel sadness or longing or even loss for what was.  In fact, I felt uncomfortable and empty and couldn’t understand why.  I don’t like those pictures even a little bit.

After Sunday School today, I realized that those pictures stir the feeling of disappointment in my human mind.  You see, as children, it has been my experience that we view our main caretakers as super hero’s.  Since my Godfather was such a great mom and dad who took such wonderful care of me, he was my super hero.  He died when I was 12, therefore I never got to relate to him as an adult…. he still lives on to me as that super hero who could do anything and make any inner or outer wound feel better simply by being.

However, being a fairly aware adult, taking in his energy from those photos, my stomach turned.  I am disappointed to say that oodles of negative energy poured out from his pictures.

I shared that with my mom and she was completely honest when she stated, “John was my best friend and I loved him and you need to always know how much he loved you…. but he had a lot of issues and anger and yes, a lot of negative energy.”

I’ve been struggling with having to see his humanity since he was, in fact, my super hero.

My mother went on to reveal something my brother told me a long time ago, but I chose to ignore it due to it’s highly disturbing nature.

Before she told me, as she thought I’d never heard this before she re-stated, “Please know how much John loved you…. you were always his little daffodil.”

She paused….

Again, “He loved you so much.”

Extended pause.

Then she went on to say that she couldn’t send pictures of the exact time frame I requested toward the end of his life because he had distanced himself from us in a big way (due to guilt) and there weren’t any pictures.  He wasn’t coming around very much in the end.  I do remember missing him but just took the explanation that he was really busy at face value.  It turns out there was a much bigger reason why we only saw him sporadically.

I could hear my mother take a deep breath as she finally prepared herself to let it out, “Honey, John raped your brother.”

I clarified, “Raped?”

Her response was:  “Your brother did not consent.”

Now, I understand that is a big and distorted and disgusting statement to see….. especially in regards someone I’ve written such wonderful things about.

In all honesty, I think since my brother did tell me a long time ago and the seed was already planted, it wasn’t that shocking.  Further, I know I come from extremely dark beginnings with questionable adults all around me.

However, hearing this from my mother who wasn’t protecting her friend and who was genuinely trying to shed light on my feelings by explaining the humanity beneath my super hero, I was left sad, yet grateful because the emptiness I experienced through looking at his photos now made a lot of sense.

The emptiness stems from the fact that not only had my dad, my super hero and most important person in my whole life have a very human side…. it was one of the very darkest traits of humanity and he inflicted that on my poor brother.  I know as children, we ADORED John.  My brother had to have been 12 or 13… maybe just maybe 14 when it happened…. John was our protector… someone who showed me (and I would have assumed my brother) what unconditional love looks like.

As I discussed this with a friend I said, “I guess he’s not my super hero any more… He can’t stay on that pedastool.”

That’s where the emptiness comes.

However, I’ve made a choice and it’s not difficult.

I choose happy feet.  I choose not to let the disappointment affect how I walk through life.  It’s not difficult for me to forgive him.

You know why?

I don’t feel mad…. just disappointed and empty.

My mother is right, he did love me more than anything in this world.  I was the joy of his life.  He was the light of my early years too.  I still remember the nights when he gently tucked me in after witnessing my parents beat the heck out of one another.  I remember being filled with joy beyond belief when he arrived at our house.  I remember he ONLY gave me positive encouragement to be my true self and was a fount of love toward me.  I remember the words he fed me when I had a real inner or outer boo boo:  After a hug and acknowledgement of my tears, he would take a deep breath and say, “Are you going to live to see tomorrow?”  Sometimes I still say that to myself for perspective through a difficult day.

He loved me the best he could and did a great job with me.  Honestly, I understand that his action toward my brother had nothing to do with me and doesn’t change everything that was what it was in my experience.

I make the choice to keep the spirit of John that I have living in my heart alive.  After all, beneath our humanness is the essence of pure love, at least that is my belief and I choose to flow with the feeling of safety and peace that his love still brings me.  Though I now see his flaws and his pain and tremendous guilt, I choose to forgive fully and embrace happy feet.

I do worry for my brother though.  I’ve always worried about the physical beatings that my brother endured from my biological father.  I worry about him being woken up in his late teens or early twenties by my mother’s naked breasts in his face.  I have worried that mostly, every one has blamed him for being a “bad seed” a “bad person,” “screwed up” and even “hopeless….”  He’s been thrown away by so many and told it’s all his fault… that he needs to straighten up.

No one ever acknowledged what he’s been through… how the only positive modeling he had turned around and violated him.

I worry about the psychological damage he has endured.  I wonder if he see’s all the beauty that makes him perfect just the way he is.

I wonder if he knows he is worthy of good things and having a fresh start as many times as he needs.

I did try to make contact with him a few years ago… but I cannot stand to talk to him.

You know why?

Because I love him so much.  I see what no one has ever bothered to see.  I desperately want to fix him and make him see what I see despite it all.  However I do know that thinking I know who he is, what’s best for him and especially wanting to fix him is a breeding ground for a relationship that sucks me dry and isn’t fair to him.

It breaks my heart to talk to him, because in his voice I hear a person who has surrendered to his “hopeless and handicapped label as a “bad seed”  and can’t see a broader vision for his potential and life.  I hate to say it, but it sounded like he is a little dead inside.

I want him to pursue his dreams.  I want him to remember he was one of the “gifted and talented” kids back in school.  He’s always been so smart.

I remember when we were little, he wanted to be an engineer when he grew up.

I wonder if there is a person still living within him who wants that for himself.

I wonder if he dares to dream at all anymore.

He has too many reasons to list to have shoes filled and overflowing with beads of resentment.  I wonder if he will ever know that no matter who doesn’t believe in him and no matter who chooses to feel better about themselves through seeing him with some horribly unfair label, that I will always love my big brother and will never stop being his biggest fan.

Photo Credit: © Srpehrson | Dreamstime.com

Though I don’t have the strength to do it in person, I will always be cheering from the distance for him to courageously step in to his Happy Feet.

Thank you.