Hey ladies and gents. I am looking forward to change weeks and let last week go! It was a rough one for me. I hope everything went well for all of you.
If you are just joining us, you have made it in perfect time. We are only on week two! What is the challenge? Well as part of my learning to love myself process, I purchased a book that is guided and geared towards finding your happiness through lists. Now I know that happiness is fleeting and it will take much more than creating lists to find it, But I am hopeful that every little bit helps.
52 Week Challenge: Week Two
List the routines in your personal life and work
Take Action: Circle all of the routines that bring you joy, and cross out all the routines you dislike. What is it about the circled routines that bring you joy?
First and foremost credit the author of the book: Moorea Seal because legally, you have to and morally because you don’t wanna be a shitty person. Her work is copyright
Link to the beautiful post I publish each week Don’t know how? Ask and I will explain. Invite your friends. Let’s have happy feeds in 2019. Can you imagine the mental health community…happy? It would be a beautiful thing. Why? because we fuck’n deserve it.
Use the hashtag #52HappyLists and #achallengeforhappiness, please
And last but not least…. enjoy this challenge. Integrate it into your life. Allow it to make small changes in your day, welcome it. We are worth it ya’ll and that is what I have come to know in my heart. Every one of us is worthy, including me.
Last week we were instructed to list the things that make us happy, right now. In the beginning of the week I had very few listed. As I went throughout my week I began to notice things that made me smile. I would go back to my list and add them, giving me a total of 14 things that make me happy.
When reintroducing Revenge of Eve I made the decision to not get as personal. A lot of things contributed to this decision but as I sit here struggling, crying and…sad, I question if blogging is still beneficial for my mental health. I no longer compare my site to others but knowing some people read to be nosey sketches me out. Which in hindsight permits me from sharing the rawness of my life. That is why I became so immersed in blogging because it helped me to get it out. A bouns has been receiveing amazing support from the community and to be given the opportunity to see things differently.
As it stands I don’t feel the same about blogging as I once did. I knew this would happen. I’m not suggesting that I am giving up or quitting rather needing to reevaluate my why behind blogging. I lost it.
I want to talk about how I lost my shit on someone last night without being embarrassed. I’ve felt humiliated all day. And sad… Damn. I’m hurting right now and have nowhere to turn. As the tears stream down my face, it is as though they have been waiting for this moment. You know the tears you can’t hold back? They literally pour from your tear ducts, that type of crying. It is cleansing, healing and healthy.
Rejection & Reason
We discussed my Love Affair with Rejection and I had last blocked my friend’s number, right? Wrong. I would check the blocked message log and he would have called or text multiple times. I would reply a day later blah, blah. Playing head games with myself (he wasn’t even aware…damn, I’ve got issues). I believe I learned my lesson. I resorted to the me that disgusts me. Insulting, accussitory, jealous, insinuating, conniving…. This guy was an innocent bystander on my self-destructive path. No, he wasn’t any good for me but there was no need for all that. We’ve actually built a sort of friendship for over a year and I ruined all of that in one night. I didn’t want a relationship with him but I did enjoy our friendship.
I was shown that I am far from ready for a relationship. It feels a little like two steps forward, three steps back. But isn’t this what I wanted? No contact with him because of my attraction to rejection? Whelp, I got it. Knowing I could never look at him again, I deleted his number and late tonight he asked that I delete his contact. Done. Legit this time. And deleted the blocked messages so I couldn’t access his number through there, deleted recent call log, all of it.
Immediately instead of admitting “I am sad” I wanted to bring up all of the instances I had caught him in a lie but it wasn’t worth it because I’ve known all along what it was about. I said eff it, I told him I was sad, he didn’t care. I allowed his angry response as I felt that is what I deserved. Little does he know how mad at myself I am. How ashamed I feel about the way I acted all because I was told no. I didn’t expect him to react so angrily because I made sure to choose my words in a manner that my message got across without me saying the exact words. Ya know, the passive agressive side of who I am.
Although there is a mix of old me and new me throughout the whole situation, I am proud that I took his response as his, not as a reflection of who I am. I owned my mistake and apoligized regardless of my opinion on the words “I’m sorry” and I only uttered those meaningless words because I meant them. Most of all I am proud that I owned my feelings. Of course he doesn’t realize how big of a deal this is for me especially at this point in my life. I considered writing and telling him ( duh, I write better than I speak), but the last text I sent said, “Thank you. I hope you realize we all make mistakes”. I deleted our text thread.
I am sad about it all. The way I acted, the way he responded, his lack of forgiveness, the lesson in the mistake, and the way “it” ended. My list of friends to call on in times like these gets shorter each time I go back to it. My trust issues are being exposed and as of right now, I am a mess. A sad, lonely mess! Then I question if I have my blog to release all of this emotion too and I am met with, well, do you? Most certainly I have a journal I could write in privately but that defeats the need for feedback.
A New Dawn
Rereading over this I see how it helped to write it. After a day of thoughts chasing each other I wrote this and went to sleep. Waking I still feel emotionally hungover but I do feel better about the situation. That is all it takes sometimes. Writing things out, getting it out of your head and admitting once again you failed.
Failed in the sense that I acted as I did years ago before I decided to put effort into working on me. I didn’t realize how quick the nasty side of me could emerge but it did and the result wasn’t pretty. So today instead of beating myself up and reliving it all, I will do something I haven’t done in a long while. I am going to give myself a manicure and pedicure and lay in bed and watch a movie. I am always working on something, the blog, crafting or working. Not today. Today I am going to make it about me. I need pampering and well, I am all I have.
The Rainbow after the Storm
I was met with a surprise in my mailbox from Cyranny! I can’t wait to open it and see the goodies she picked up for me on her travels. Thank you sweet Cyranny. I appreciate you thinking of me along your travel journey.
Aww, Cyranny! Y’all, she had beautiful cards made up for her blogging friends and I feel so special to have been chosen to receive one. She also included a map and some other bits and pieces of tickets and a receipt. Many people use vintage ephemera in their artwork but I have begun adding the epherema I have received from my friends. While it isn’t yet vintage, it is treasured. I made the cutest card to slide next to my daughter’s picture in my Sophie, passport travelers notebook, using stickers and stamps from Ashley’s mail. I think it turned out really cute. The card itself is also something Ashley picked up while on vacation
If you happen to travel throughout the year, I would love to receive any paper you collect from your travels. Ideas are ticket stubs, brochures, stamps, pamphlets, maps anything you decide to keep and send 🙂
As far as getting too personal on my site, I don’t think it is so much that as it is being embarrassed for doing the same things over and over expecting a different result. That’s the definition of insanity. Here’s the thing though, I never realized I was doing these things until recently when I began to look for unhealthy patterns. I should not be ashamed to share that humanness side of me. That fear is something I was raised with, what goes on in our home stays in our home type mentality and I will push past that fear and share when I need to. This space is dedicated to my growth not what a perfect human being I am. It is here I am able to release all that no one in my world seems to understand, or better yet, I do not know how to communicate. So for whatever reason you find yourself reading my posts, do so with the knowledge that I am learning. If you are here to judge me, GET A LIFE!
As we are born into this world, we seek comfort in other human beings. The most reputable bond is that of the mother and child. This bond unites after a nine-month incubation period. Of course, this is a generalization of what society envisions all lives are like. I will go out on a limb and suggest the next most impressionable bond would be that of the child and the paternal parent (that did not carry the child).
In today’s more modern society it is common to adopt children, artificially inseminate, or opt for surrogacy. Emphasis is placed on the importance of skin to skin bonding. Adoptive parents are in the delivery room as are new moms-to-be via surrogate, waiting to bond with the new arrival. Pictures are plastered on social media with shirtless dads embracing their newborn everso gently reinforcing these findings.
But what about the moments during our formative years when we seek approval and guidance? I would classify the formative years to span from six years old to teen. I suggest it is in these years we are most impressionable and if we are not reassured we spend our lives in a twisted love affair with rejection. During this phase, our need for guidance sets the tone for who we are to become and the sense of self develops according to the response of our caregivers.
This, of course, is my opinion and not proven fact. I built this opinion based off of my own experiences with rejection. I tend to shy away from discussing this topic which has resulted in no improvement leading me here today. Shame and embarrassment have held me, hostage, long enough!
“When we go in search of our true self we must be open to the habits and routines we have created that are unhealthy and affect us negatively”.
An Honest Observation
It is only recently I have been witness to this torture cycle in my life. The evidence is in the intimate relationships I seek with unavailable men. Not unavailable as in married (although I was involved with a married man for two years) but in the emotionally unavailable way.
As I mentally scan over my history of relationships I see the seamless pattern. In high school, I wouldn’t have but one significant relationship that began my junior year but throughout high school, I had a ” friend”. Whether or not either of us was in a relationship, we would come together in secrecy. I can remember going through phases of wanting more from him but withheld my feelings out of fear he would no longer want our “down low” sex sessions. And this very pattern has weaved itself throughout all of my relationships. Never to reveal my true feelings because of the friends with benefits arrangement agreed upon. An agreement that has been the preface of all the relationships I have entertained.
Up until now, I contributed it to commitment issues when in reality it is because I was taught, during my formative years, that attention is attention albeit negative or positive. Having the reputation of a heartless, freaky girl landed me in many relentless, toxic, unforgiving relationships. Each day was a mystery. Would I play detective and follow the clues of their lies or would I sit back and look pretty? Thriving in chaos is an addicts livelihood and I gravitate towards those similar to me, doubling the drama.
It is always in the back of my mind that I can change them, help them, and mold them into loving me. Convince them I was enough. I leave you to imagine how it has ended time after time. Most importantly I rejected myself by not expressing my true feelings about situations. Minimizing my need for acceptance has not gone without damage. On an evolving mission for connection, I failed to realize it is the connection with myself that is missing.
“Rejection attaches itself to your purpose and amplifies your need for acceptance while diminishing your self-worth.“
Determined to break the cycle, I have chosen 2019 as the year to embark on a self-discovery journey and I am fortunate this pattern presented itself. While I cannot control how another feels I can validate my own feelings by expressing them and not entering into relationships with meaningless sex and rejection.
One thing that I have learned in sobriety is that no one can take away or change the way I feel. They may not reciprocate the same sediment but that does not discount mine. I have allowed others to control how I feel based off of their own feelings. This is true even with my Ma. Sharing how I feel has not been met with smiles and rainbows rather continuous excuses and examples of how I do not feel that way. When this happens I pause and polity state that that….” is how I feel and just because that wasn’t your intentions does not mean I do not feel that way.” That statement is powerful for someone who has always allowed others to tell her how she feels.
With each failed relationship I have internalized the belief that I was not good enough. I cannot recall exactly at what age I began to feel less than but being able to associate this is monumental for my healing process. It was with my most recent friend I discovered my exact contribution to my relationships up until this point. I have always held myself accountable for the toxicity I brought into the relationship without knowing where it was rooted. Now I move forward with a sharp-shooter shovel digging that bitch up!!
I have come to accept that my paternal source was broken. From what, I will never know, but in order for me to forgive, I must rationalize. His well had no love to give. The saying “you cannot pour from an empty cup” is suitable in relation to the lack of love I received from my father and is what I have tried to do for others. You cannot possibly love another without loving yourself first.
Fortunately for me, I have had enough love to share with my daughter however I am guilty of not being emotionally available, as I never fully developed in that area. I began drinking and using drugs during maturation, stunting my ability to rely on myself for coping. Instead, I used substances to change the way I felt. Choosing to do so went on to destroy the innocent, imaginative girl that was, replacing her with a calloused, angry, hurt, and lost fragile girl. And now here I stand stripped down, vulnerable and ready to learn to love the unique qualities I was told were no good.
A note from me to you:
The topic of rejection is a hard one for me to approach and I am not sure I did any justice but perhaps sharing my story will open up the conversation. The feeling I associate with rejection is humiliation. This has branched out into many areas of my life. I do not like to be the center of attention or have attention drawn to me. The level of discomfort rates high on any scale. Another thing that I would like to mention is that while in and out of institutions and rehab facilities my counselors would refer to me as having abandonment issues and I did not relate to that anywhere on the spectrum and one day it just clicked, I am in a twisted, self-sabotaging love affair with rejection.
In June of 2018, I decided I would explore my creative side. I have since continued practicing my skills. During these 6 months, my style has shown through as what I would describe as vintage infused with modern art. The age factor is something I am drawn to in collectible items but it is the crisp, boldness of modern-like photography that catches my eye.
Creative & Collective will be where I discuss my creative journey, share pictures of my art, and provide videos with my antique shopping hauls. Since I also collect notebooks and stationery, those topics will fall under this category as well.
When I use the word modern I am not specifically talking about today’s modern. I am talking about modern of any time period. Each generation is known for trendy designs, patterns, and colors but all to often we forget that during those trends there are also pieces of art considered modern. I do not necessarily pair the two, time frame with trend and modern, as much as I…. just pair the two.
I tend to favor style with clean, crisp lines but with fashion I like flair. An easier way of explaining could be that in design I like the precise, defined look whereas in fashion I prefer the runway style. We can all agree that what is worn on the catwalk is not worn on the streets. Combining the two creates interest for the eye.
It can create friction choosing to mesh the two opposite ends of the spectrum but I feel I do so in a fluid way. It appeals to the softened and busy eye. It is my appreciation for detail that I have come to realize sets me apart from others. It takes risk and charisma to pull it off. Two qualities I possess.
Bold and Subdued
Black and white is my favorite go to. That is shown on my website. Adding a pop of color enhances the crispness of it. I love the color. My favorite being red but something you will find is I rarely use or wear red. I prefer to use purple which is opposite on the color wheel but the two can be beautifully paired together.
Growing up one thing I clearly remember is liking red opposed to pink. It was pointed out to me that red was a “boy” color. From that day forward I would say that purple was my favorite so not to be put into the boy category. Well, guess what? Red is my favorite color and I am not ashamed to say it!
In high school, my Ma and I redid my room. Tearing down the pink wallpaper to replace it with white paint. My curtains were black to match my comforter with white polka dots and then we used red accents. I LOVED it!
As far as my fashion sense goes I would classify it as… My own. I am not a girly girl and never have been. My fashion sense is along the lines of stylish and comfortable.
Dressing up as far as a dress and heels go is rare but I clean up nice. I prefer skinny jeans with an oversized top that hangs off the shoulder, boots with a heel, chunky heel, not stiletto and my hair in a low hanging ponytail. But most days are casual days after my work uniform comes off because let’s face it, most of us are in our work clothes more than the ones we want to be in.
Here begin my collectives, in a fashion sense. I absolutely love glasses and purses, simple, dainty jewelry and stationery. Stationery? Yes, I see the stationery I love as an accessory as well as functional. Teehee. The accessories I chose are feminine, girly, flashy, glittery, over the top and bows… Don’t even get me started!! The bigger. The better. Me!
It is funny because I am a little gangsta girl #504boys #weezy #ugk I listen to Kevin Gates, Gucci Mane, The Weekend, Tigga, Erykah Badu, Lenny Kravitz… I appreciate rap music, I relate to a lot of it. I have 2 12’s in my trunk with a competition amp and Bose stereo system 🙂 (my sisters is way better!) Shoutout to the elusive Darik.
I love Southern African American culture. Baggy, not sagging, clothes. The beat of their energy gives me life. This beautiful culture brings the meaning of family to a whole new level. They invite their crackhead uncle and prostitute cousin to Thanksgiving because they are family and they give to family. They are dedicated to one another by blood. Hell, they will consider you family and when that happens, you experience love without judgment. The only one you need to observe is momma. She is the matriarch and the one who created the bond that is that energy field. Respect her. You don’t have a choice anyway.
Fun fact Candace means Ethiopian Queen. Enough said.