How do you like me now

I’d like to think I’m pretty good at kicking my own ass. That is to say, I’ve perfected the art of being overly critical and judgmental on myself. I am often satisfied with what I accomplish, but rarely fully impressed by it. I’d say this past year has been a rebuilding period. Some days (or weeks or months) I think the foundation is looking good. Every now and again a flood rushes in and puts cracks in my foundation, so there I am again, filling them back in, patching them up.

I have to post this for my own acknowledgment, because, well, I’ve succeeded at kicking my own ass in a more literal (and by that I mean physical) way than I have ever achieved in all my 24 years of life:

How do you like me now?

Yes, that’s me.

Caption courtesy of song lyrics by The Heavy, “How do you like me now?” Really, it’s my middle finger to all my former insecurities.

The funny thing is, and this is completely irrelevant to today but something that has actually been on my mind for quite a while, I kind of resent the attention. See, I’ve been told on numerous occasions by numerous people that I am a beautiful woman. This is nothing to complain about, don’t mistake me. And I think people get annoyed with me when I sort of shrug it off when I don’t believe me. The truth is, I don’t really care. I worry that people are too often drawn to me because of the way I look; they see things in me that aren’t really there or they stuck on what they see and forget to look beyond that. I worry that I’m not being taken seriously or treated fairly. This may sound trivial or trite, or you may think how dare she complain about such folly, but think about it. If someone is seduced by my looks and not by my brain, can you imagine how shitty it feels the moment they get to know me and decide I’m not actually worth their time?

I’ve been pushing myself hard. I’ve spent years hiding under generous clothing, feeling ashamed in a bathing suit, and just being all around uncomfortable in my own skin. This past year has been entirely about regaining my self; discovering my self, controlling my looks, my hair, my style, my voice, my body, my mind. Santan and I made our 4-mile mark yesterday. We didn’t stop once (except for when she suddenly hit the breaks to dump a giant load in the middle of the sidewalk–that was pleasant). In the past, running was a laborious method of torture to some degree, dragging myself out the door to lament the few blocks I managed to jog down before my air ways pinched so tightly that I had to stop and weeze for a few minutes. Running today is a liberty. It’s an outlet. It’s a welcome escape from the hours I’m stuck in a chair, plugging in my mood music and tuning out my life for miles. MILES. I can run miles! I’m seriously dreading the summer heat when this won’t be an option for me anymore. I guess I’ll have to discover a passion for swimming.

spring breeze

Flying

Life has progressed on quite well. I’ve been on a creative streak for several weeks now, investing much time and energy into work and passion projects. Trading up all my Canon gear for the Nikon D 7000 was probably one of the best decisions I’ve made and it’s really jolted my passion for photography and videography. On a weekly basis you can find me shadowing the girls as they jump on the trampoline, play hide and seek, or splash each other at bath time. I’ve been recording and photographing them quite a bit, all in black and white, and the results have been stunning. Its been invigorating to reestablish myself behind the lens. Having our studio clubhouse has also been quite an inspiration and in the two months we’ve had we’ve already conducted several shoots and I’ve utilized it as a work space during my down time between class and work (saves me time and gas avoiding driving all the way home). School continues to broaden my understanding of things and the people in my life have been both challenging and inspiring muses. Unfortunately I still seem incapable of keeping dollars in my bank account, but I’m getting by and accepting as much side work as possible. My teacher, Andy, has been very pleased with the work he’s put me to so I can count on things from him now and again. Santan and I try to go for a run as often as we (I) can and are working up to 4 miles now. Unfortunately the weather will beat down on us soon but we’re taking advantage of it while we can. And that’s all folks.

The day he left

4am

Illinois.

 

The navy send off and the beginning of a fresh chapter

It wasn’t that bad. Really. I wish I had seen them before – Kris and his new girlfriend – just so I could have been over the uncomfortable and newness of them being together and focus more on the fact that he’s leaving. But regardless… it was alright. I got to see and talk to a lot of people I’ve been missing, including his brother Kroy and our friend Andrew. It was also great to see the rest of his family and I wish better luck for them all.

I haven’t cried about it. Even though I’m worried about him and I’ll miss him even though we don’t really talk anymore as it is, I’m not as sad as I am excited for him. He’s been waiting for this moment for years. It’s been such a long, frustrating and arduous process and his life has been literally put on pause waiting for tomorrow. He’s finally entering. From a distance, he seems more alive and alert than he’s been over the last year. He has spark back in his eyes and seems to be smiling more. I’m truly happy for him.

Initially, I wanted some time with him. Just a few minutes of private conversation. But somewhere in the last 24 hours I realized that I didn’t actually need that. I’ve said really all I could say to him and my stubborn, slow-learning heart finally surrendered to the reality that he isn’t mine anymore. Taylor is the one now holding his hand and it doesn’t matter how serious or casual they are. She’s been the one there for him the last several months, investing her time and emotions and care into his life.

With him moving on to fulfill his dreams, I too feel relieved. A small part of my heart is healed.

I don’t know what happened

I don’t know why, in the middle of my optimism and sense of direction, I suddenly feel lost. I didn’t want to turn to this, to this stupid little corner of the web to have to spill my guts, but in the midst of texting four different people I realized I didn’t have enough faith or trust in anyone to talk to. Everything feels temporary, including the people. My mother says she feels hardened. I feel apathetic. It’s a horrible feeling and I know I’ve succumbed to apathy before. I don’t even seem to care if anyone likes me, mostly because I just don’t believe it. Snap out of it, I tell myself. Waiting to.

Invitations for the grand send-off arrived in the mail yesterday. So I guess that’s one small relief. Now the actual hard part is coming up; saying goodbye. Again. I really don’t know how I’ll manage it. So much of that day, that night, is going to be hard. Selfishly, I wish I were actually involved with someone so that I had a pair of arms to come home to and comfort me.

I really am my own worst enemy. So many times I crave a protector, someone bigger, stronger, someone understanding. And yet, I continue to put on a bold front. Intimidation is my weapon and I can’t resolve why I am under the impression that vulnerability is bad. The more vulnerable I feel, the harder my exterior becomes. I stand a little taller, I wear darker clothes, and so many cold days that past I wore the shield of a leather jacket. I’m sure to most people it came off “hott” or perhaps even bitchy to people who never talked to me. But really, I was just scared.

I am definitely my own worst enemy. I wonder if there will ever come a day when all the pieces of me will find a way to sync up and agree once and for all how I will act and feel and be. The division is both killing and saving me, as one hour I am a gallant figure in lip gloss and a dress, and the next I am dangerous, looming in dark and eye liner.