Masks II

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I’m a coward. Oh, I’m full of big talk when other people need my help, ask my opinion, or just need a good shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen, but when it comes to letting people know me? Not the top layer, but the real me that lies deep below the surface? Oh, no, I can’t let people get to know the real me. What will they think? Will they like this me? Hell, most of the time I don’t like that me, why would I ever think someone else would? I keep her hidden under so many masks that make up small parts of me…

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I know that the different masks that I hide behind are all parts of me, little snippets that I share here and there when I am finally comfortable enough with someone to let them in. I have a mask that I wear for my family, it’s one that is supposed to remain strong, that hides the fears and sorrows that I don’t want to share. This mask is made of a thick clay. It has survived so much, but like anything else, with time it has begun to crack, and I fear what will happen if it one day falls apart.

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Another mask that I wear, one that more people are getting to see and know, is my mask of creativity. Again, those damn insecurities about my writing, my singing, my expressionism, they hide behind a mask that is thin, like fine china, where you can see the light shining through it. It wouldn’t take much to break that one.

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The top most mask is the one I share with everyone. Only a select few get beneath this one. It is my shield. My line of defense against everything that comes at me. It holds truths about me, but it guards so many more. 9d31cb97bb2b71021afba95b798e41b2

How do I decide who to share the truth with? Oddly enough, the anonymity of this blog has been the most telling and revealing of the real, raw me there is. Its in writing this that I am trying to love myself. I remember writing enough blog post about masks over a year ago, and when I was rereading it just now, its odd to see how little has changed, and what masks I still hide behind. You can read that earlier post here. I try to face the darkness that hides in me, facing it dead on , and sharing it.

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What is YOUR value?

Several months ago, after a particularly emotional day of thinking, I wrote a post about the value of me. I honestly never gave it much thought again after that post, it succeeded in opening my own eyes a little bit more about myself, was therapeutic, and then I was done with it. It was off my radar like the swipe of an eraser on a white board. For, well, I was going to say “whatever reason” but that’s not accurate, I’m just not entirely sure of the reason, that post popped into my head last night after listening to a friend who had had a particularly bad day at work and home.

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This friend is always there for everyone at work, listening to them, appreciating them, valuing everyone at work… Yesterday, however, she left work at the end of the day feeling like a failure, so beat down, under appreciated, and completely unvalued.

Let me tell you something, whether I know you or not. Whether I know everything you are facing in life or not. You are important. There is a reason you were put on Earth, sometimes we never know that reason ourselves, but I guarantee someone does.

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Value is defined as the regard that something is held to deserve; the importance, worth, or usefulness of something.

In our lives, in the end, what really matters? Is it the amount of money you made, or saved? No. Its, in my opinion, the lives that you touched, the hearts that you affected. That is the purpose of everyone. The people who love you, even at what you think is your worst… Everything about you matters. It’s unique. You matter.

Is it scary to feel unvalued? Unappreciated? To feel like you can’t face another day of the same ‘ole, same ‘ole? Hell, yes! But you are strong enough, you may just need to dig a little deeper sometimes to tap into that strength.

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Just promise me, no matter how hard the battle, how deep the fear; no matter how bad the day, always remember at least one person who loves you for you. The important, appreciated, beautiful, valued you.

Cheers for 2015!

I did it. I have blown the sides of my comfortable little box wide open. I ended last year with the release of my first book, a novella that, while not a best seller, I can take pride in the fact that I wrote my first book, and am currently working on another two.

Beyond that, and wow, is that crazy for me to even say?!, is that I have followed a dream and travelled to Ireland. I’m actually sitting in the hotel pub! My holiday here ends on Tuesday before I venture into London and then onto France to visit with my brother and his family.

I wrote back in June (Really? That long ago??) that I was going to start living boldly (you can read about it here). I gave a list of things that I wanted to accomplish, and while I never made it to the dance classes, I did make it out of the country. This is, in my mind, a much bigger leap in the “live boldly” pool.

What can I try and challenge myself with this year? Of course theres the obligatory “lose weight,” “exercise more,” “Get healthy,” routine that I pledge to do every year, but never get around to doing… Maybe a bit of reverse psychology is needed? This year I resolve to do nothing healthy, eat pure crap and laze around all the time?

This year I will try to respect myself more. I am who I am, nothing more, nothing less. I can’t expect people to like me if I don’t like myself. How can I like myself if I don’t respect myself?

This year I’m going to do at least three things that will better me. Maybe learn something? Train for, and complete, something? I don’t know, but it has to be three things.

This year I’m going to be a better Mom, and a better daughter. I let the events of early last year control so much of my time. It’s been almost a year; it’s time to move on.

I’m sure there’re more things that will pop into my brain as the year goes; we’ll see what happens in 2015.

Hell hath no fury like a…

…Like a trainer scorned. Forget about the whole “woman scorned” thing, I stepped back into the gym, AKA Dungeon, on Friday to meet with my long ignored trainer, AKA Sadist, AKA Satan. I should have known something was up. Oh, he gave no easily recognized clues, but I should have picked up on the happy malevolence that was him.

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It started easily enough, warming up on the treadmill for 10 minutes of walking, getting the blood pumping a bit faster, warming up my neglected muscles. You all know the drill whether you are an gym rat, or a gym ghost (like me). There I am, happily plodding along on the treadmill, thinking various thoughts when he asks if I am ready to roll. I should never have said “yes” to that question…

Satan leads me into his den -er, office, where he announces that we are starting from scratch with me, need to get me back to the motivated, on track client that I once was, and then he cores the unspeakable… He pulls out the tape measure and the body fat thingy (*not its clinical name) and tells me to hop on the scale.

Efffffffffffffffffffffffff.

I knew what the scale would say, I had been to the doctor two days before that, so I walked out and walked back in, giving him that number. He wrote it down on the new, clean “progress” page, and then went to flipping back in his book to where I was before I basically quit on myself. I had ballooned all the way up to where I had been, plus an additional 20 pounds. You can see the progress I had made here.

After the weigh in and body fat analyst, he pulled out out the dreaded tape measure. Yeah, um, let’s just say my month of horrors began a few days early. It’s humbling to see myself reduced back to numbers again; numbers that I promised myself I would stay away from. What was even more distressing was the fact that I have let myself go so much that the workout had me huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf and sweating like a newbie at a chili pepper eating contest.

The question, or trick, is how to re-motivate myself? I know that it’s about my health, the very health I’ll need to watch my children eventually graduate college and grace me with grand babies. Ive looked throughout my home searching for a genie, or some “miracle fat cure” that would make this time around different from the last too-many-to-counts.

I’ll figure it out,  or at least try to. There are a lot of potholes on this road that I’ve laid in front of me, I just need to be better at dodging them.

josh

 

 

 

 

 

Blerg

I’m not sure why it is lately that I have so many ideas for what I want to write about when I am nowhere near my laptop (usually when I am either a) at work and not able to write anything down, or b) in bed, worn out after being at work!), but as soon as I sit down to start writing, it’s like my mind and all of my thoughts have been sucked into a black hole! Don’t get me wrong, I still have a lot of those thoughts and thinks going on, but I wonder if I should write about them? *snort* Who am I kidding? I have already shared so much on here, why would I suddenly turn shy when I have this platform of (relative) anonymity?

 

Things in my world have been rocking right along, staying super busy and usually incredibly happy with the job I have. I honestly can’t completely wrap my brain around the fact that I have been with this company for over a year, and that I left a career of ten tears to work full time, and I still go to work every day happy and smiling, ready to see what comes my way that day. I come home tired, worn to the bone some days, but I can still smile because of some little something or other that happened that day.

 

With all of this working, I have still not made the time for myself to get back to the gym like I have been telling myself I would. I am meeting with the Sadist once a week still, but the time I need to allow, no, that is such a wrong word. I should not say that I am allowing myself time for myself… I have not been making the time for myself to look after myself the way I know I should. The weight is back, and then some. The body shaming is back in the front of my mind, and embarrassment of and for me is constant. I look and think, near tears, how gross and disgusting.

 

I don’t think that many people realize these thoughts go through my mind on a constant loop, thanks to the masks that I try to wear. Unless they read this, and I only know of a couple of my friends who do, no one in my close circle really knows the truth. Again, it is here in this forum that I can express the truth because I know I am not alone. I wonder how many more “me’s” there are in the world.

 

I think I’ll stop here now that I have put a depressed pallor on my blog for the night.