Trying to Find the Center of Myself (a.k.a. being self-centered)
I only rarely publish an image of myself on the Facebook Page. Oh I may sneak some body part in a photo and not tell you it’s my hand or foot. On occasion I am drawn to pair pictures of myself with words. There seems to be a common denominator in the theme.
Woman looking inside herself – searching for her voice – just wanting to be loved.
This is probably the most uncomfortable post I’ve written. Posting images of myself seems so damned self-absored. But who I am I kidding? I am absorbed in myself. I’m questing and questioning all the fucking time.
The posters are in order of appearance, from newest to oldest. Like any other artist, I cringe looking at the earlier stuff. What was I thinking with some of those fonts?! The newest of the lot feels the most vulnerable of all even with the superimposition of my face and a fascinating tree. The hollowed out eye is so revealing about how I feel at times. And and the twisted tree with a blood red cast across my face reminds me of sinew. I find it both scary and beautiful.
Putting myself out there gets uncomfortable. Vulnerability kicks in. Self-awareness became self-consciousness. I refer to those moment of acute self-consciousness as “In the Garden” or “Adam and Eve” moments. They had been naked, open, and free in the Garden of Eden until Eve ate the Apple from the tree of knowledge… and in an instant shame set in. Today I decided “what the hell”? I hope some of you relate; if “selfies” don’t do it for you, then move along. There’s nothing much to see here. But if you stay. And if any of it strikes a chord within you, then please accept my invitation:
I’d like you to pair the right words or a favorite quote with a selfie and share it with us. Be creative. You don’t even have to show us your face. Let’s be intimate and try real “in-to-me-see”. I hope you’ll share with us because it helps us see more clearly into ourselves. I know you. You have lots to say and this is a safe place for you to be heard.
I’m serious. I want your own self-portraits with words on them or under them (if you aren’t a poster maker) here. You can upload them to the comments section under this post. I won’t use them for any other purpose, but just remember, it is the internet and you never know where they might end up. Don’t post something you don’t have the copyright to or would regret finding on Pinterest or elsewhere. Any hey…no naughty bits – okay?
It never ceases to amaze me how surprised I can be when betrayal sneaks up behind me. I have a nose for untrustworthy people. The problem is I let my good-natured, kindhearted self override my internal wisdom. It’s that part of me that wants to believe all people are really good at their core.
If only I would start listening to myself. I can tell almost instantly when actions and words don’t match. But I manage to give the wrong people the benefit of the doubt. And often the right people experience the wrath of my fears.
As I write this, I’m beginning to wonder if I end up being a bad judge of character because it’s more important to me to be liked than safe? Damn. I think that’s it. I think I’m so eager to be pleasing. To be liked. That I leave my own side and take the other person’s side. I give them the benefit of the doubt. I make excuses for them to explain the incongruence between their actions and their words.
Oh boy. This feels big. I’m going to have to sit with that an let it simmer a bit.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on why you might give people the benefit of the doubt too easily or too early in relationships.
She found herself shocked to see who was gone and who was still standing next to her after the winds of adversity blew through her life. It was even more shocking to discover her intuition had been right all along. She needed to start paying attention to what she already knew!!
Music That Moves:
This one is for the new year.
I feel like Lemony Snicket’s been to visit and through a series of unfortunate events (a.k.a. life) my awe and wonder quotient is a little low these days. Or rather I should say, my wondering about awful quotient is too high.
There’s actually lots of magic in my life at the moment. I just need to be willing to look past some of the darker bits and let myself be blown away again by the wonder of it all. But I think I’m like a kid who discovered when she put on Super Man’s Cape at Halloween she couldn’t actually fly. She suspected it all along. It wasn’t really much of a tragedy to her overall being, but it was a GIANT loss of innocence. We need to grieve our losses of innocence or we get stuck hanging on to false hope or we give up all hope. Neither is a very good space in which to operate.
My wish for me in 2014 is to walk through my own gateway to awe and wonder again and claim my spot as the heroine of my own my life story. My wish for you is… for you to know exactly what you are wishing for.
She wanted to believe that she could find the awe and wonder in life again and not just wonder about the awful. She didn’t like admitting it, but she wanted a superhero to rescue her. Today she realized it was time to rewrite the script. Enter a new character…She decided to cast herself as the heroine of her own life.
Music That Moves
…a video blog
Seriously… I’m just way too wacky at this time of year to figure out how to sit down and get my thoughts together and write anything more coherent than a poster. For me, video blogging is perfect when I’ve got stuff swirling around in my brain that I want to share with you, but just don’t have time to type and edit and make it all pretty.
I hope you enjoy this one. I’m pretty darned sure you’ll relate!
holiday video blog from The Mess on Vimeo.
There is a vast difference between being willing to die for love and wanting to die because of love. I know. I’ve felt both. There is no shame in getting the help you need when love (or its absence) makes you feel like dying. And sadly… ever so sadly… the people closest to us are often the worst people to turn to at times like this. It’s not because they don’t care. Mostly, it’s because they care so much that they forget what it’s like to want to die rather than say goodbye. As they watch us slip into grief’s depression, they get scared and anger masks their helplessness. That’s when they say and do really stupid shit.
Sure I get pissed off when the people I love, don’t “get” me as I am swimming in the inky black waters of depression. But somewhere deep inside, I remember that the mini-mess had dreams. She wanted to grow up and live a big life. She had a bucket list long before she knew what the fuck that even meant. And taking me out would mean taking her out too… and that’s where shit gets real. She’s endured way too much tragedy in her life to have me abandon her in that way. So I make the choice to find a way to take one more breath. So far so good. One breath at a time, I’ve survived every goodbye life has handed me. And for now. That’s all I need to know.
She’d never known such happiness. But she’d never known such misery either. The heartache out weighed the joy. That told her exactly what she needed to know. Now all she had to do was summon the courage to say goodbye.
Who is She?