Being True To Myself- Post Dare#1 Wrap-Up

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"Once you are real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
~Margery Williams, "The Velveteen Rabbit"

Today is the last day of January and wow, I did some daring things. A lot of it was behind the scenes and not easily scene with the naked eye. I feel it inside me, though, something was cracked open. it feels good. I journaled 90% of the time, and did some deep digging. I wanted to do a Post-Dare wrap up, so here it is:

Q: What was the most difficult part of this month's dare, " Be True To Myself".

A: The hardest part was getting really, unabashedly, blatantly honest with myself. Doing so had me realizing that I tell myself a plethora of things on a daily basis, which are based in untruth, fear and shame. Holy crap- that was a bitter pill to swallow because I had have prided myself on how honest I am.

Q: Were there any particular themes that came up, repeatedly for you?
A: Yes- Acceptance, self-compassion, and creativity were all closely linked.

Q: When did you feel most vulnerable?
A: On the first day- publicly posting about my sex life for the world to see was liberating, scary, and truly enlightening. I was pleasantly surprised by all of the support I received around that particular post. It was important for me to remove the shame around the idea of celibacy for myself. Saying it " out loud" made me feel more alive, connected and at peace with the whole situation. It is what it is, until it's not.

Q:On a scale of 1- 5, rate the difficulty of this dare.
A: 4.5. Did I mention I publicly declared the state of my sex life? LOL. Whats more is that I took myself to some deeply vulnerable places.

Q: How were you inspired by what you learned?
A: The only way to move forward, is to face what one is afraid and ashamed of. By keeping part of myself in the dark, I prevent myself from really and truly being seen. I hold back from contributing to my friendships, work, and to myself on the whole. it has also inspired me to look at the possibilities of what is next for in terms of my career. I have spent over a decade where I am now. The desire to leap into something more creative and expressive is sounding appealing. I don't even know what that looks like, right now. I do know that just by being honest with myself about the desire to move in a new direction, will be the start.

Q; So , what's next and what are you looking forward to most about the next dare?
A: The next dare is learning/trying to ski and snowboard (my friend Athena, has convinced me that since she teaches snowboarding, I would be a perfect student for her. Well, maybe not perfect, and I am willing to give it a go.) I am looking forward to laughing - a lot. Me on a snowboard? On skis? Yeah- it will be entertaining if nothing else!

Pictures Worth Thousands of Words

A week ago, I pulled down a box of pictures. Spontaneously, I selected pictures spanning my life. I was looking for something:
the place where I lost the love for my body
the magic and awe of being a child
light
the parts of myself I inherited from my parents
the parts I created from scratch

The following is a portion of those pictures. (Thank you to my brother Derrick, for helping me with this post by scanning all of these, uploading them onto his MAC, and allowing me to blog in the comfort of his home. You rock, DROCK. I love, appreciate, and adore you. Thanks!)


My parents, circa 1977. It is so odd to see them together- they spent more time apart. They were opposites and understood each other, and I would wager, themselves, very little at that time in their lives. Dad was 26, and Mom was 20- 21ish. So young...


And this is me- freshly born. November 30th, 1978, 1:14pm. i was born a few blocks form our house in North Portland, at what was then called Bess Kaisor Hospital, and is now Addias Headquarters. How times change. Look at that baby- so sweet and innocent. A little bundle of love. Isn't it crazy think this is how we come into the world? its a strange concept for me to realize that that is me. I was once that tiny- 5lbs and 6oz. Incidentally, my name means small. Ha.


are you looking at my bum? you Cheeky Monkey, you! 7months old and I knew how to work the camera...


Purple has always been my color. My Grandma Pauline made that outfit for me. I have it still- she gave me all of the clothes she made me, shortly before she passed away. I am also wearing my Winnie The Pooh galoshes. We were ill-prepared for Winter, as my family are not keen outdoor folk.


Another dress my grandma made me, on the front steps of my grandparent's house, in North Portland. I was probably pissed off at my dad in this picture. He was most likely giving me instruction on how I should stand or pose. My independent streak showed itself quite early on.


This picture was taken in Seattle, on a ferry. Dad had us take the train up- he, his then girlfriend, Betty and myself. I think we went to Bremerton. I hated taking the train- except for the bathrooms and the water fountain. They both seemed like the most amazing places to the 3 year old version of me. I hate those shoes too. Dad bought them for me, because they were cheap. Bless his heart for not understanding the importance of shoe color to his daughter. He was doing the best he knew how.


Dad was really good at capturing real life moments. Check me out- snotty nose and all. It's true, I was lit from within. Still am, it's just so raw and innocent here. I am grateful for the ways both of my parents documented the everyday-ness of being me.


Here I am being totally myself. Such a lady! I love the band-aid- it shows me that I was rough-n-tumble, despite my pretty dress and lady-like pose. I was the only girl grandchild for 10 years, and so I learned to love having tea parties with imaginary friends. I have this dress as well. This photograph is hands down, my favorite of that era. It actually hangs in my home as a reminder of who I really am.


The story behind this pic: It was hot. I wanted to swim in the pool. So my grandmother reluctantly set it up for me. They (dad, grandparents, uncle Spencer) were all so worried bout me getting sunburnt. I just wanted to swim, yo! I didn't have a swimming suit at dad's house (not outdoor people, remember?) So they put me in shorts or pants and a button up shirt. Part of me resented that, and yet- I was swimming in the damn pool. I got what I wanted, sort of.


Me and Derrick at our Grandparent's house for dinner. It seems like there was always watermelon on the table. Obviously, this was Summer. Look at how naturally I bare my mid-drift- it seems shocking to me. Who is that girl who prances around, happy in her skin, not understanding how vulnerable that would make her feel 25 years later?


Here I am a little older and wiser- 6 or 7. At my grandparent's house. That tricycle was 20 years old. I love this shot for many reasons- mostly because it shows how bad ass I was even then. Look at me rockin those stripes! And red and yellow?!! it's crazy, and yet- it works. Those shoes were well worn. I love the flip, sassy look on my face and especially the fact that I completed that amazing ensemble with my favorite purple purse. Wow.


Who is that girl in the blue bikini? I hardly recognize myself. It is the only time in my life I have ever worn a bikini. I was fierce and unafraid. Completely without shame or conscious that my body was anything other that good. I miss that feeling of comfort in my skin. That was me at 9. It was a year or so later, that my hormones began to kick in and I began to see my body' s shape change.


We are deep into the 80's here. This is at the Heine Family Reunion, held every summer then, at Columbia Park. Check me out! Those legs! The jellies! The hair! I remember thinking that I was trying to look fashionable. The 80's happened to us all, who were there to live it.


Notice that I am wearing a swimsuit (which was purchased at Kmart. Love the fluorescent colors!) Derrick and I are on the patio of our Hillsboro townhouse, where we lived with my mom, our step-dad Greg, and eventually, our half-brother Justin. The boy in the middle is Danny Starns- he lived in the apartment complex too , and he and Derrick played together a lot until he moved, I think.


Derrick and me again at our grandparent's. That doll was a fake Cabbage Patch doll. My dad's side of the family was too cheap to buy me a real one ( I had two at my mom's house). Despite the fact that it wasn't authentic, I loved this doll completely. I named her Jenny. At my dad's house, she was another member of the family. She went on trips, sat at the table for meals, and was with me at all times. I still have her too. My grandmother Pauline was a gifted seamstress, and even now, I can feel how much love she put into creating her for me. It must have given her great satisfaction to see her so beloved by me.


Christmases were always split between Mom and Dad's house. This was Christmas eve circa 1985 or 86. I was feeing quite princess-y in that dress (which of course I also still have) that Grandma Pauline had made me. Christmas, though, for the most part, was kind of a miserable affair, in that the frustration of the shuffling between parents brought up my father's anger at my mom. There was always an underlying unhappiness and family drama on those days.


I like to compare this group shot of me and my brothers to the ones we took last spring. See how many things are different and how many are the same.? What the hell was going on with my hair? I must have run out of hairspray or something that day, because they weren't big enough for the 90's. Derrick I know will say something about how his hair is and how he hated the feathered look. And Justin- always being a smart ass for the camera. I love those boys.


Uh.. yeah.. I fell victim to fashion of the 90's as well. Pirate blouse- check. Print vest- check. Scrunchie- check. This is my 15th birthday, and that used to be my favorite kind of cake. Baskin Robbin's ice cream cake- chocolate with Jamocha Almond fudge. Can you believe how fat I thought I was then? I was blossoming into my womanhood, and already berating myself for the many ways I felt different. What's that you say? oh yeah right- that's every teenage girl ever born.


This was the summer before Senior year. That is Danika, my best friend from the 7th grade. We have lost touch over the years, and looking at this picture makes me miss the laughs we shared. My god we could really get going. That is my dad's youngest brother, Spencer in the white tshirt. His sister, Kyra, took this picture. That's her former step-son, Eli in the navy blue. We were in Florence for the day. Danika and I had driven down to Cottage Grove to visit my aunt for a week in August. We all then decided to go to the beach for a day, to paint, to hang out and have some fun. it was the hottest day on record. The sand away from the water reached temperatures of the high 80's and it was actually 101 degrees outside. When I look at myself in this picture, I can't stop looking at my legs- they are kind of sexy. Curvy and wonderful. I had no idea. I was constantly comapring myself to Danika and every other female on the planet. I wasn't able to appreciate my shape.


One of my Senior pics. My mom actually took them, at her mother's house. I look so 90's. I was trying to achieve a serious look in this shot, trying to nail down the wisdom I possessed and would gain in the coming year. I was 2 months away from my 18th birthday, and I couldn't wait to be done with high school.


the year after graduating high school, my brother, his two closet childhood friends, our cousin's and my best friend from high school, Malinda, spent a lot of time at Malinda's parents house in Aloha. This was right before Malinda, CJ, and i moved out on our own for the first time. That was such a crazy good time. Change happened quickly then.


Both Derrick and I were at our heaviest in this picture. This was about 2002 or 2003. We had driven down for the weekend to visit Grandma Peggy, in Medford. We had made a day trip to Crater Lake and Ashland that day. This picture was taken by grandma in Lithia Park. I weighed 220 LBS. I am not sure what Derrick weighed, but I do know to date, he has lost over 150 lbs. He is barely recognizable. I was the most miserable I have ever been in this photo. That was such a depressing time in my life.


my 25th birthday. This was a martini crawl I had planned in NW Portland. This was somewhere in the middle. That's Athena, and Katie. That night ended with me humping a tree at 2am, somewhere downtown. Athena has pictures to prove it....


This is such a wonderful picture of me and my little bro-bro, justin. I was 25 and he was 17 or 18. it was a hot, June day in North Carolina. We were in in Atlantic beach. I had flown out to visit Justin, my mom, and her third husband for the week. Justin and I bonded in a way we hadn't ever done before (Bojangles!!) and kept each other sane. I love how my shortness is so obvious next to Justin's height. I love my lil bro-bro! He has grown up into such a good guy.


July 2004- a few months after my dad had died. it was Treasa's wedding weekend. her best friend Sonja had planned the bachelorette. I do believe we had a good time that night! I had spray-tanned for the first time ever because I was a bridesmaid as well as the coordinator. That was a fun, hot, intense weekend! Whoo hoo!


Derrick and I posed for this Christmas photo for our mom, in 2007 or 2008. We are still close, even though we no longer live together at this point, and don't hang out as often. After spending most of our lives together- few words need to be spoken. We just get it. Especially when we are being goofy and creatively collaborating.

Since then, all of my pics are digital and can be found mostly on Facebook. It is interesting to watch my evolution- I thin it speaks about where I am destined to go, as well thousands of words I simply cannot speak.

To thyne own self be true. We must hold onto the parts of ourselves that make up the truth of who we are, and let ourselves be guided by that innate beauty, love and light.

Snotty noses, stripes, bad hair and all.

The Affection Connection

On my night stand is a stack of books about... well.. figuring myself out. I figure each month, since I enjoy it, fully researching each dare through other's perspectives might be useful. Indeed it has been.

The other night I was reading " Life Is A Verb" by Patti Digh, and I was touched by the story " Squeeze in Next to Someone, Arm-to-Arm." It tells a story of a how one person shied away from another's persist affection, and was consequently healed by it.

Naturally, it got me thinking about myself.

It is a fact that I did not grow up in an affectionate family. My parents divorced when I was two years old, (Derrick was still in-utero). The lines were clearly drawn as a result of the split, and the two sides were like night and day. Except for the fact that neither side readily demonstrated physical endearment- that is the tie that binds.

Dad was not an affectionate man. In all honesty, it wasn't until a few years before he passed, that I would initiate a hug at the end of a visit. I was in my early twenties then, and much had transpired between us, including his hiatus from our lives for six years. From age 20, to 24, I would come for dinner to see him, my step-mom, and my other siblings a couple of times a year. It was in the moments when, the kids would scurry off to do whatever it is they would do, and my step-mother would clear the table and wash the dishes quietly in the background, that my father and I began to know each other as adults. In the cool, crisp of the evening, inevitably, my dad would walk me out to the car. We'd stand in the driveway saying our goodbyes, under those shining stars- the same stars he first showed to me hiked up onto his shoulders, when I was just a wee lass. With great courage I would throw out line, and wait for him to respond.

"I love you , Dad.", I would say quietly, holding in my breath. Every time I would say those words to him, I would suspend my breathing unknowingly, waiting...seconds felt like an eternity. Was I good enough for him to love me? Did I matter to him, his first born child? Or was a merely an afterthought in comparison to the second family he had created, and that I struggled to find my place in?

" I love you too, Paula. Drive home safe. "

My God, I loved that man. I am my father's daughter, and it is now looking back at where and who I came from, that I feel the magnitude of a girl's love for her father.It is a natural nborn love, of innocence, of acceptance, of joy and wonder.

Next month marks 8 years since he died. Every year, Derrick and I pause on that day to marvel at how quickly time has passed since we got that call at 3am, one cold, February morning. We wonder in fascination at how dramatically are lives changed, and how they continue to be impacted.

Lately, I have also begun to wonder if Dad were still alive, would he read this blog of mine? What would he reveal of himself, to his first born daughter who is by and large, far more extroverted and outgoing as either of her parents....? Then I remark to myself, that maybe I wouldn't be nearly as vivacious and exuberant had I not lost my dad at the age of 25. So much of who I became in my twenties was due greatly to the experience of having lived through the death of half of the duo that created me into being.

I feel the need to be clear about my dad here, because I am cognizant of the fact that I write about him a good deal more than I do my mother. Perhaps it is because we tend to idolize the dead a bit... and also because as a female, my father and the relationship I had with him has directly affected the romantic relationships I have been involved in. The correlation is not lost on me there...I have worked hard at remembering my father's faults and flaws, as much as I recall his brilliance and humor. He was a human being after all was said and done, and not without his own dark side and demons her surely wrestled with. I suspect he held back, and that he simply did what was modeled to him by his parents (which is to say that that side of the family lived int eh shame and slinece of a dark sexually abusive history. I sometimes wonder if my father's lack of affection was a way to protect me from it...)

My mother too, was not overtly tender, though when comparing my parents to each other, she was considerably more so. I see that her lack of easy and consistent physical closeness towards her children, was similar to Dad's genetic aversion to displays of affection. She was simply working out her own issues around loving touch based on her own childhood experiences. I have memories of my mother cuddling me and rocking me as a little girl. And it was apparent to me, even at a young age, that my mother's actions spoke loudly of adoration and love for me, even if they did not always make sense. She was easy with verbal expressions of love, and it was also in every thing she has ever made me.

Both of these people, so very different from me, each made choices in their lives that refelcted the lack of affection and close conncetion with their own parents. I see both of my parents personal sacrifices as enormous " I love yous", unspoken to me.

...where was I going with all of this? .. Oh right! Touching, affection and the connection between people and the goodness that results from such interactions...

A wall has been carefully and steadily constructed around me- my body is a physical representation of that wall. I carry my weight in my middle- where I feel most vulnerable. Part of the reason for this wall, now revealing itself to me, is the fact that I did so to keep people from touching me. There is a part of me that grew up thinking that affection wasn't for me- I wasn't deserving. (If I had deserved it, wouldn't i have received more of it?) Affection was a luxury afforded only to the thin and beautiful people of the world; to the " normal" people with " normal" childhoods. Affection was like cake- saved for special occasions.

Being touched in a loving way, meant I had to let someone close enough to do just that. To hold my hand, squeeze me in a hug, or kiss me square on the lips. Even gentle friendly caresses were hard for me to accept- almost harder because they appeared to be so familiar and commonplace. How wonderful for me, I think in gratitude, that another part of me knew that I needed all of that and more- that I deserved it- because I did attract in (and continue to do so) the most superb friends and lovers into my life, who have helped me to know just that.

Still, it has remained a challenge for me to accept the devotion that comes with connection. Even now, I still sometimes feel like a fraud when a friend reaches out to squeeze me, in a high-five, or takes my hand and holds it in kindness (it is ironic to me,knowing this about myself, that holding hands is actually one of my very favorite forms of affection. Its right up there with kissing a lover.)Within the safety of an established relationship, I am sweet, openly affectionate and I warm to touch instantly. Why has it only been in that space that I have been so?

"Hello Mr. Obvious on line 1...."

In my closest friendships, I continue to challenge myself to hug back as fiercely as I love, and to be comfortable in those every day precious moments of vulnerability.

Some years back, I recall reading an article about two, old, Italian men who were lifelong friends, in a quaint little Tuscan village. The article showed these men walking along a street, hand in hand, serious as all get out, though kindness radiated from them. The article talked about how it was quite common and openly accepted for grown men to show fondness towards each other by holding hands. My American brain wanted to throw out judgements, and yet I was so taken with the beauty of that story. What would the world be like if we were all so comfortable in our expression of affection to those we care for? How would we greet one another? How would we fight with each other?

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Pondering my willingness to look deeply at who I am and the life I have created, thus far, has me wondering about the family I may build someday. Maybe the reason for all of this introspection, boundary redefinition, and wall de-construction around who I have made myself to be as a result of my own upbringing, is so that I may pick up where my parents left off...

I want to endeavor to be half of the kind of parenting duo that cuddles with our kids in bed, in our pajamas. We will watch movies on a rainy Sunday afternoon, while eating pop tarts sprinkled with laughter. Openly declaring "I love you" so there is little doubt behind my actions or words. I want to hold hands with my child, and wonder adoringly at how their small hand fits into my larger one. I look forward to what that will feel like one day.

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As I was finishing up that chapter in " Life Is A Verb", before I went to sleep, Ellie had snuggled up on my chest. She was nestled warmly in between my body and the layers of blankets. Purring away, her eyes squinted in a doze, she kept reaching her paw out to me, then withdrawing it. She did this as if she were afraid to actually touch me. Finally, after she she reached out once more, I took her paw in my hand and just held it loosely. She purred louder and curled her claws up in the way she does when she is happy. She just wanted me to hold her hand.

It occurred to me then, that perhaps she too hesitated reaching out to me- her paw extended in love out to the person she loves. Perhaps she was holding her breath as I once did when telling my dad that I loved him...

" Am I good enough to love?" Elli asks, and then exhaling with a purr when she felt me grasp her soft little paw and answer with,

" of course you are, my Love. We are all good enough to be loved. That is the truth of who we are."

Smiling: A Weapon of Mass Destruction

Recently, I became aware of a Weapon Of Mass Destruction: Smiling

Last week, a guy smiled at me, and I became supremely aware that in that moment I was witnessing who he really is. Defenses dropped, heart open, sense of humor engaged, ease of being fully recognized.

And it was like a bomb to my carefully constructed hideout.

I smiled back. I dropped my defenses and let the warmth of who I am, and the truth of it be seen.

Then the wall went back up.

Ugh....

But, what I got out of that, is that smiling is the key to shining. And the anti-serium to fear and isolation.

My yearbook teacher, Mr. Coleman used to say that it took more muscles to frown that it did to smile. Of course! Smiling should be easy and natural, because it is so.

Would we have been able to take down a terrorist with a smile? Maybe if we sat down and had a heart-to-heart. A round table discussion with the likes of Jim Gaffigan, Oprah Winfrey and Tony Robbins, and Mariyln Monroe, if she were still here.

I suspect that smiling is our own pesonalized Neon billboard that advertises to the world who we are. It is also a cleverly disguised Weapon Of Mass Destruction against fear- it's a friggin' Love Bomb meant to blow us away with the truth of who we are.

I'll be dropping love bombs like F' bomb's in the next 365.

Easy Lover

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Yesterday morning, as I was standing in my bathroom, carefully applying a coat of mascara to my lashes,I received a text message. It was from my new friend/co-workers, L.
It read, " I love you Cupcake!" (Cupcake is my nickname, and what my name tag reads at work)
I immediately, without hesitation, replied back with " I love you, L.!"

The wonder and beauty of that exchange sank in.

How is it, that a person I have known less than 6 months, can so easily pronounce love for me? No guards up. No pretension. No test needed to deem myself worthy- just complete acceptance, authenticity, joy and love. This beautiful woman has a radiance about her- a light so bright that I knew instantly I wanted this person to be in my life when I first encountered her. I connect to that light, because it reflects back who I am. I can't wait to know her better, to know myself better and see what fun we can have together.

Later that day at work, I had hit a brick wall, energetically and mentally. I have been on a cleanse (which is a whole other post!) and I had hit my brick wall at day 5. I was literally quite retarded. My brain was not firing in a way that was making sense to even me. I was on shut down mode. Just as I was preparing to leave my shift early, I stopped to say "hello" to another new friend/co-worker, A. We made eye contact and smiled and without hesitation we crossed the distance between us and hugged fiercely.

" I love you. " A., said into my ear.
"I love you!" I quickly replied back.

Once again, I was struck with how easily I felt this connection of love flow between myself and another human being. How real and true it feels to love so openly. Here, like my new budding friendship with L., was another kindred connection that is based on the attraction of the light and love we see innately existing in one another. Again, I am presented with a new friendship with so much possibility/creativity/adventure. How is this possible??!!!

As usual, my mind began to wonder off to that place where I contemplate the big questions in life.

Q: Loving another person is so easy- why do we make it hard?

For years, in the relationship with my First Love, D., we had danced around declarations of love, though we did obviously love each other. In hind sight, I see it was because we were both closed-hearted, emotionally disabled, and petrified at being vulnerable enough to let another in to possibly abuse the truth of who we each were. Each of us came to the relationship table with gaping wounds and we were afraid saying " I love you" would put salt in that gash.
Whoa. That's heavy, right?

Q: Why is there such a stigma attached to saying the three words that communicate that emotion through language?

Could it be that we do not feel worthy of being loved so deeply, so purely, so adventurously? I suspect, for most human beings, this is indeed the case. There is so much we are afraid of, that we forget how easy love is.

Q: How do we as humans, communicate love without language?

I thought of my cat, and at the risk of sounding like a crazy cat lady, I flash backed to when I am snoogling with her. Ellie never opens her mouth and says " I love you", and yet, I never question whether or not she cares deeply for me. I don't have to because I can feel her endless love for me.
.
Ellie likes to lay right on my chest, over my heart. My lady humps don't always appreciate this. While I am uncomfortable with her balancing on my sternum- she is blissfully purring away and gazing adoringly at me.I look past the discomfort, and I imagine that our hearts are connecting. Perhaps what is happening in those moments is the light that lives inside my heart links up with her heart's light and together we make more love.

I think this is what happens when we hug people too.
Or when we are making love/having amazing toe-curling sex with a person.


One of my own deeply held beliefs, is that the root of who each person is- the genetic make-up of the soul- is love.

When we are born into this world as babies, that is the only thing we innately know how to do. Everything else is learned. It is our nature to love because we are love. Love is a verb and love is a noun. We lose sight of this easily and often. Fear is the opposite of love. One could not exist without the other, because it would be difficult to understand the difference. Just as dark needs light to define it.

Every day, in any given moment or situation, we are consciously or unconsciously choosing to take an action, think a thought, or feel a feeling based in love or fear. To live fearlessly every minute is impossible, because we need the fear, nipping at our ankles to remind us it is present. We must endeavor to choose past the fear, to live more fearlessly, all the while respecting it for the simple fact that it helps us to love better.

"Fall in Love" is something I wanted to put on my Dare to Bare list, this year. Quite honestly- it is at the top of the list of things that give me incredible fear and hesitation- the ultimate vulnerability, in my eyes. Falling in love is something I never, really, truly, honestly have experienced -not in the way I define True Love now. I decided that because I could not assign a time frame to that one, it was best to put it on my "Bucket List" instead. I am declaring myself open to that adventure, in a way I haven't been before.


What is intriguing to me, as I observe a shift in my being, is that I say I love you to people all of the time, easily now. To close friends, new friends, family, and even my cat. I even find myself sending love out to people I don't even know. When I am driving, for instance, that lady with the stern, mean look on her face- I send her a little beam of love. That little boy, smiling at me in the back seat- yep-he gets some love to. To that co-worker I don't know well enough yet, and looks like they could use some kindness- out goes the beam of light.

And I am still afraid, every time I say it. I keep thinking that the more I practice, the easier it will be to love and be loved. It feels like I am headed to that destination, at least.

I'm a regular Susie-Fucking-Sunshine. (No offense Suz- the name just sounded good! I Love you! :))

Holy crap, am I turning into a New Age Love Fairy?
Probably. Most of you aren't even surprised, I'll wager, to hear me ask that rhetorical question. Ha!


And hey you... yeah... YOU....


I love you. <3

The Gift of Being Wrong

I just got back from seeing my doctor, who is one of my favorite people in the world. I feel fortunate to have such a wonderful realtionship with my naturpathic physicican. Today, as we met for the first time in over a month to discuss the results of a test I took in Novemeber. I was shocked by the results....
For those of you, who may not already know, I was diagnoesed with a syndorme called PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) eight years ago. There is no actual test for this syndrome, which is why it can go undetected for years. A physician basically looks at all of the symtoms, and various seperate test results to determine if that information lines up with the PCOS checklist. I had every symtom on that check list, eight years ago. Today I, was informed and saw for myself, that I no longer have any of the major symtoms that would indicate I have PCOS.

My doctor is waiting for one more test, which I may have to take over again to be sure this is the case. However, it's looking like I may have actually never had PCOS, but instead was misdiagnoesd. This is a shock to my system because for years, I identified with PCOS. This syndrome was the cause of so many malfunctions in my body. I had been told over and over that the reason my body was so prone to being over weight, was because my metabolism was greatly affected by the hormone imbalance. Now, having seen for the first time ever in my life that some of my hormones, and more specifically, my adrenals are " normal".

I wanted to cry when I saw that. I have spent countless seconds, minutes, hours of my life putting myself down, shaming, blaming, and accepting the hopelessnes that comes with having a body that works against you. I had been told for so long, that my body was making me crave the very things that were making me sicker. Every minute of my adult life, has felt like a neverending uphill battle, with the certain outcome that I can only lose.

I had to work so much harder at being mindful of what I was putting into my body. Excersing not because I found joy in it, but because that was one of my weapons against my body. I was using myself to battle against myself.

The media certainly fuled this internal war, as did the constant comparison against others, that happnes so often it doesn'[t even register.

Until now.

Be True To Myself. In the days that have followed since I launched this project of vulnerability, I have been contemplating this dare every day. The ways in which the questionand answer show up on a daily basis is surprising, difficult, rewarding, and full of insight.

What are the ways I keep myself from being my truest self? My body image is a big one. Its hard for me to talk about, most of the time, because I feel like no one really gets it. But I know they do. Because, in comparison, I am not that different from you. Or that guy sitting across from me right now, at the librabry (where I have to use the computer because my Beloved Mac finally bit the dust...). He like me, mosre than likely shares the same beleifs I have about myself. Whcih are:


I am not enough.
I don't measure up.
I am too plump.
Too outspoken.
Not clever enough.
I am ireesponsible with my money.
I am too messy and unorganized.
I curse too much.
I am not flirty enough.
I am too serious.
I tell good jokes, poorly.
The list goes on, and I am really keeping it surface level today because I am afraid to go deeper right now.

So... now that I have digressed (what else is new?)
I no longer see myself as the plump and pretty girl who has PCOS. I no longer see myself as the woman who has to work harder than my peers to accomplish the loss of the extra 50Lbs I carry.

Now, I see for the first time ever, that I am "normal". I am plump because I have been so afraid of being me- the real me- for fear I still wouldn't be enough. Shaming ourselves has become a natural part of life, and that makes my sad. I have been observing my own feelings around shame and how I do it. Just the other morning, I observed that before I even got out of bed to start my day upon waking, I had 10plus negative thoughts. Before my feet even hit the floor!!!!

My body is the number one thing my Inner Critic uses to hurt me. It is my weak point, one of my truest vulnerabilities. The Critic's negative internal chatter has been a constant. It began when I was 9 years old, I was aperfectly healthy ahppy little girl who was on the verge of adolescenes. One afternoon, I was in my paternal granmother's kitchen, waiting for her to fixz me lunch as she often did when I would visit. I sat in my favorite chair and waited patiently for the meal I knew was made with all the love in my grandmother's heart.
On this day though, she stopped what she was doing and looked at me, and poked me in the tummy and said " You're fat."
I had never, up to that point expereinced low-self esteem. I liked who I was. I enjoyed being me and the body that allowed me to run, ride bikes, and play on the playground. Until that moment, I had not once thought of myself as not being good enough.

Suddenly, with one comment, the Inner Critic set up residence in my head and has enjoyed her stay.

Thats a tough load to carry. My Inner Critic is cruel and spares no means of malice to cut me down. If my grandmother, who surely loved me the best she knew how, could hurt me, why not myself?

"I'm doing you a favor, trust me! I am taking you down so low and far, that no one else could ever come close to hurting you so proficiently. Isn't that nice and considerate of me? I am doing all of this for your own good- to PROTECT you."

Whoa.

Do you hear that crap? That is a mindfuck if I ever heard one. I am a smart cookie, and I would not tolerate that treatment from anyone else- so why have I allowed it to go on for so long?

Because the bottomline is I don't beleive I am worthy- of love, success,or abundance.

Thank God what I know and what I beleive differ.
I know that I absolutely deserve I am worthy of all of those things and more.

Having a new look at my health and my body, feels like the most amazing, precious gift anyone could have given me. Because I see now that I am just plump because I literally choose to put myself up on an island with thick walls. My body isn't working against me, and in fact is totally on my team. Its that damn Critic who has been ruling the roost for too long that has helped with the wall building.

I am over that bullshit. Being true to myself means recognizing that I can do the things I want to do. All things are possible and it is no longer necessary to continue to wage an imaginary war inside me.

How Deep is Your Love

I have always loved this song, and lately have taken it on as a kind of love song to my own self. Being that I am working to discover the ways in which I am true to myself, and owning that Love is who I am at the core, it seems appropriate to then ask myself, " How Deep is Your Love?"
How deep is your love
How deep is your love
I really need to learn
'Cause we're living in a world of fools
Breakin’ us down
When they all should let us be
We belong to you and me

I believe in you
You know the door to my very soul
You're the light in my deepest, darkest hour
You're my saviour when I fall
And you may not think I care for you
When you know down inside
That I really do

And it's me you need to show
How deep is your love?
How deep is your love
How deep is your love
I really need to learn
'Cause we're living in a world of fools
Breakin’ us down
When they all should let us be
We belong to you and me
Groovy video follows. Coincidence that this song came out the year I was born? Hmmm....

http://youtu.be/NpqmGx7meQw

Birthright

" We often block our own blessings because we don't feel inherently good enough or smart enough or pretty enough...You are worthy because you were born& because you are here. You're being here, your being alive makes worthiness your birthright."
~Oprah Winfrey

How Am I Not Myself?

From the moment this Dare to Bare -"Be True To Myself" was chosen, a line from one of my favorite movies began looping inside me.

As one who prides herself on being honest, authentic, and the "real deal", I had to stop and ask, how am I not being true to myself? Aren't I always being true to myself? Nope. We tell ourselves big and small lies everyday. I am still discovering what some of those are....

"How am I NOT myself? How am I not MYSELF??"....

Soul Safari

http://travellingboots.files.wordpress.com

I want to be a thrillseeker inside my own being- to explore the inner terrain & landscape with wild abandon, curiosity and respect.
I want to go on safari in my soul.

Let's Talk About Sex

Got your attention, didn't I? Ha ha ha. Sex sells people. It always will.

But, I'm not selling anything- I'll give you my truth for free. And this truth is about sex. In keeping with this month's first Dare to Bare- " Be True To Myself", I am looking deeply, curiously, and unabashedly at all parts of myself in order to uncover where I am not being truthful. The first place on our map of destinations is my 2nd chakra, home of sexuality and creativity. These two things go hand in hand, if you think about it. Creativity will have to be a topic for another time. I said I was going balls to the wall (that actually has nothing to do with sex, btw- its an expression pilots use pertaining to flying. But ya know, if you're like me you also appreciate a good innuendo). Being vulnerable means getting down to the nitty-gritty and shining light on it, so that it no longer lives in the dark.
(Mom, Grandma- you may want to skip reading this post altogether. :) You have been warned!)



Today, I want to talk about sex.
I am about to get really vulnerable and talk about sex.
More specifically, my own sexuality and love life.
Or lack there of.

*deep breath*

So here's the first bomb- I'll just drop it and get out of the way, and into the very public and open space that is BlogLand....



I haven't had sex in two years.
Yep.
Uh-huh.
Yes.
Two years.
Count them- one, two.
no sex for dos anos.
mmmhmmm...


www.saharamet.com

The first question you must surely have is "How can you do that? I can't go (insert amount of time) without sex."

Being without sex hasn't always been easy. It hasn't always been hard either.(Insert joke here). I certainly didn't think I would be celibate for as long as I have been-it just kind of happened. After my last relationship, I was left feeling pretty gutted. 50% of the responsibility of inflicting that wound, I put on myself. The last 4 years that I have been single, I have put myself back together and done some introspective healing. The majority of my recovery time left me feeling quite vulnerable and defensive. Over the course of the last 2 years, I had offers- I just choose to pass them up. Also, along the way, though rare, where occasions where I actually felt attracted to a few guys I became acquainted with. Looking back, I am grateful it never went anywhere, because what I was attracted to was their unavailability. It was a lot easier to play it safe, when I was more likely to be rejected than accepted.



I faced the truth this week and it is this: I haven't had sex in 2 years because I am afraid of myself. More specifically- I am afraid of being vulnerable enough to let a guy in to see the more intimate parts of who I am. I am terrified that if I let a guy in close enough to have sex with me- I'll be deeply wounded again.I had to take responsibility and own that the lack of nookie in my life was mostly because I had almost completely shut down to the opposite sex. Other issues around body image & worthiness tried to creep in, but I know those root back to the main truth.

What stops me from shutting down sexually totally (and thankfully so), is the fact that I am a very sexual person. I am usually the first one to think a dirty thought when someone leaves a comment wide open for interpretation. As an intuitive, I am tuned into the Sex Channel which means that I often glimpse intimate, sexual moments of people at random. Sex is something that, in most aspects, I am very comfortable with. Except, it would seem, when it comes to getting some of it myself. That needs to change. I need to get laid. Not just for the sake of ending a dry spell in my life, but to allow myself the gift of passion. To share in those feelings that make you feel alive when you are connecting so deeply, authentically and pleasurably with a trusted lover. The fact that I am not getting any, doesn't mean I'm not human and don't have needs. Hell yeah I do! I love sex. A lot. And when I am in a relationship-I want to have it-a lot.
I'm not the kind of girl who is good at the "Wham, bam, thank you Sir" kind of interaction. Not that I haven't tried. When I have indulged in that behavior, it usually leaves me feeling less than what I went in for. The bottom line: life is too short for crappy sex. What I know about me is that in order to enjoy sex with a guy, I have to feel an intense connection to him instantly. If it's not there- I don't care how hot, funny, successful, kind, talented, or smart you are- I can't fake the kind of chemistry I require. I don't want to fake anything when it comes to sexy time.Ever. The attraction needs to be fully present, mutual and genuine. That is what turns me on the most.



In my opinion, sex only starts to get good once you know someone better. All of those little personality quirks serve as extra stimuli. Which is why one can be sitting across the table from someone one is intensely attracted too, and want to jump them because the of way they said the words "Battlestar Galactica". (Conversely, these words can also, in the right set of circumstances, be what makes one run screaming in the other direction. Just sayin.)



Human sexuality is a fascinating subject, wouldn't you agree? One might observe that we are driven by our biology as well as our emotions, when it comes to the having of sexy time. We are curious, by default, about who is having sex with whom, who isn't having it with whom,and how much sex we could/should/would have. We compare and contrast our own sex lives with people we meet, subconsciously. There is a desire to be accepted as "normal", and media and pop culture would have us believe that "normal" is getting down with the horizontal mambo like rabbits do. Biology equips us with hard wiring to think about sex, and again the media and our culture perpetuate this phenomenon (guys- don't be fooled- women think about sex just as much as you do, if not more sometimes). In fact, everything we do- is driven by the hopeful possibility to share in carnal knowledge every waking minute of the day.
Brushing your teeth- who wants to make out with someone who has bad breath? Fresh breath is attractive and conducive to sexy time.
The car you drive? Its a little neon sign that reads " Hey Look at me! I have it going on! Wanna go for a ride?" (cars can also indicate what you DON'T have going on, if there is a pronounced insecurity...Just sayin').
The shirt your wearing? Does it match your eyes, or show off parts of your physique that you want to be noticed in order to be found attractive, which will lead to bumping uglies?
Yep.
Spot-on.
Think about all of the things you do in which you are putting up your "open for business time" sign up. Yep. We all do it to do It!



Or, we put out mixed signals.
I think that has been my problem the last couple of years. The closed signs have been up for longer than they needed to be. Suddenly, I have realized, it is time to reawaken. Wake up sleepy libido!Time is a- wasting! That being said, I am not desperate by any means. My intention is that by being vulnerable, I will shift the kinds of relationships that I attract into my life. Its time to come out and play! Now, I just need to attract in a guy who:
a.)finds me mutually attractive
b.)is emotionally available for a relationship
c.)who wants to have sexy time on the regular
d.)likes to have fun and can bring a sense of lightness and adventure into my world

I feel the need to make a side note regarding marriage and babies- yes, I do want these things someday. I am not in a big rush. If those events are meant to happen for me, they will. I trust that. I don't want to spend my time worrying about the what-if's. I want to live deliciously in the now!

In the now, I am 33. Many of you reading this, are very aware of what it means for a woman to be in her 30's- she is at the peak of her sexuality. It's a mountain the majority of us have been trying to summit for a at least a decade, if not more.



Reaching the top of that mountain, is such a reward. And oh how we desire to be rewarded!!! For many women in our thirties, those insecurities we carried about our bodies have given way to something much richer, riper, and randier. We no longer care as much (though we do still care a little) about what we look like when we are in the throes of passion. We care less about our _____ being too big/small/pale/jiggly- whatever. We, and I speak for most of us, though keeping mind we all have days where we just don't feel our best, enjoy getting down for the sake of getting down. We enjoy making love for how connected to our partners it makes us feel. We want to get it on for the joy and aliveness the Big O's bring us. "Making sweet love down by the fire" reminds us that we feel loved, confident, and empowered. We feel lucky to have gotten to the top of the mountain.



Bomb shell # 2- I was 22, barely 22, when I lost my virginity.
Oh, it was 11 years just last week! How time flies!) Back then, I waited for numerous reasons- though basically it was because I was sexually intimidated and scared at letting a guy get close to me ( that sounds a little familiar...hello childhood wounds and Daddy issues!) The guy who took my V- Card, was someone I had known for years. We were friends who flirted, i.e. sometimes made out, in a drunken stupor in front of our mutual friends- when he wasn't with his girlfriend, or current flavor of the month. I identified myself as " The Virgin" amongst our friends, then. That was my novelty. I was the last one to do the deed. True story.



In a sense, I feel like a born again virgin 11 years later. This time around, I actually am extremely sexually confident, playful, and easy-going. I have different hang-ups and am not nearly as inhibited as in my 20's. Thank the Sweet Baby Jesus. Can I get an Amen??? I am also not interested in dating an alcoholic-womanizing cad who is old enough to know better. In fact- I'd like to date someone my age, or younger to experience something else. I am curious to experience dating a guy who is on the same frequency as I am on. That is such a departure from all of the guys I usually date- them being 9- 12 years older than me. I am not sure what that looks like, and trust me when I say I will know it when I feel it.



Someday, I hope to have to have sex again. God knows its not a good sign when your doctor is highly suggesting you get busy, for your own sanity. True story. I got a little wired and out of control about a month ago due to an amazingly powerful and unexpected attraction to a guy I hardly know. I swear, there were moments when if he just looked at me the right/wrong way, I would have imploded! It was baaaaddd and I was kind of a wreck! I had reached the point where nothing- and I do mean NOTHING- was helping. My doctor was taking my pulse and asked me to stick out my tongue before an acupuncture session one day, when she said,
"Ok what is going on with you? Your heart is beating erratically. Your tongue is funky and your chi is out of whack."
I had been trying hard to conceal the storm raging inside me- my passion had been awakened and it did not know what to do with itself. The jig was up.Time to fess up and face the truth.
" Uh...wellll... I kind of have a raging crush on someone and I am conflicted, confused, and frustrated over it. I haven't been with anyone since my ex and I tried dating again a few years ago, and well... I feel like I am going a little insane!"
She and I had a great conversation about how sex ties into our health. She also counseled me about the raging crush situation, and gave some sage advice I am still chewing on. I felt better for saying things out loud, after internalizing them for weeks. It also became apparent that this new attraction, had sparked my hormones into overdrive after being dormant for too long. My doctor had to medicate me with additional supplements just so I could think and breathe. Thankfully, I am over that hump, as it were. For now. But hey - that could change any day, hopefully.It's looooonnngg overdue now. So bring it, Universe! Bring it ONNNNN!

Vulnerability leads to openness of heart (amongst other things) and that leads to intimacy which leads to Sweet, Sweet, Sexy Time with a guy I genuinely dig. He'll need to pursue me respectfully, playfully, and honestly. He'll be the kind of guy who will bring a sweetness, sensuality, and fun into my life. He will also be honored to know I "picked" him, and see that for the awesome gift it is.

And he will be handsomely rewarded. Hee hee heee.....


So there it is. More than you probably wanted to know about me. Its frightening for me to put this information about myself out here for people to read.Talking about my own sex life so freely here is a bit unnerving. The part of me that is scared, worries that I will be judged negatively, pitied or made to feel like a freak of nature. However, the timid parts of myself are being forced out of the driver's seat, and I am taking this show on the road. The point of this months dare is to be true to myself in a vulnerable way, afterall. I have most certainly begun that dare with this post. I wonder where this will lead....

It's all part of the journey- owning the truth about why I have denied myself for as long as I have and getting comfortable with feeling a bit rusty and awkward. It's like riding a bike though- you never forget- which is what I need to remember. Sex in and of itself, is a deeply personal journey of self-discovery and intimate communion. Sex is an on-going education with a life-long learning curve. It is powerful to embrace the knowledge that comes from learning about what turns you on, what doesn't, and where your heart fits into all of that. And great sex, in my humble opinion, should include the heart.
And sometimes, fuzzy handcuffs, if they are handy.

Is it just me, or is it it getting hot in here??

Say What You Want

"Vulnerability is one of the last things we share with people, yet one of the first things they try to recognize."
~Dallas Clayton

When I came home last night, after a long day of inventory at work, the winds were whipping up around the cottage like I have never seen. It does tend to get windy up here on the hill, but last night I went to bed feeling a bit nervous.

These were, I knew instinctively, the New Year Winds Of Change. When one asks for change in their life- they deliver. Much like invoking Kali, the Hindu Goddess of destruction, one must be sure and open about exactly what they are inviting in. Because from destruction, something new is born. The new cannot be created until what was, has been eliminated from the path.

As I layed in my warm, cozy, comfortable bed, listening the the wind snap branches against the strong, sturdy little cottage, I started to worry. The cottage is surrounded by huge, tall, trees- what if one fell onto the cottage when I was sleeping? What if I was injured? Or worse yet- what if I met an unfortunate end?

"Paula- get a grip, girl! You are safe and you are fine. And hey if its your time to go- its your time to go and there is no negotiating that. Chillax and rest in the knowledge that the Universe has your back."

This morning, in the light, I connected that fear of the wind with the fear of being open to vulnerability. What I am doing is some brave stuff. Being courageous in life, doesn't mean that fear isn't present. It just means that there are times when you have to give the fear that threatens to take hold, the middle finger and take the higher road, and do what you are called to do.

We never know when our time is actually going to be up. Waking up to be able to take another deep breath, to stretch the legs, and drink in the sights of what it means to live this life- well that is a gift. One I want to receive with wild abandon and share with anyone who wants to accept it.

"Cuz this life is too short to live it just for you
But when you feel so powerless what are you gonna do
So say what you want
Say what you want"
~Nellie Furtado "Powerless"



*BTW, readers, I don't post every entry on FB. I just post the ones that I want to have a bit more exposure.(tomorrows post is the one that is making me nervous! Stay tuned...) By no means do I believe that everyone will or does read about me and the extremely interesting details of my life all of the time. However, for those who are interested in sharing the complete journey, I wanted to point out that one can follow my blog by subscribing. Did you know you can subscribe anonymously? Yep. So if you just want to live vicariously and in a voyeuristic manner- that dream can be yours too. Check out the "Google Follower" button to the right here, under my picture. It will prompt you to sign in, and then choose whether you want to follow publicly or privately. Thanks for reading! <3