(it’s not) Thinking [small words, big impact] Thursday

There are times that the things I want to say – the things I need to say – have been said a million times before, by others, by me. So I bite my tongue, not wanting to sound redundant or trite or like an imitation of those who said it much better.

Other times, I’ve just got to spit it out.  Today is that day.

I’ve been told I have some self-esteem issues. I prefer to call it reality, but there are a precious few that would argue otherwise. You all know that person, beautiful as all get out, but has no clue?! Yeah, well, that isn’t me. My eyes work just fine, and my mirrors are all clean. I see exactly what I am, I see my many flaws, I see the sparkles in my hair, the wrinkles creeping in, the thighs that need work, the boobs, the stomach, the… well… I see it all.  If others refuse to acknowledge those flaws, I just thank the heavens that people can overlook and block out!

There is this one thing though, this pretty major thing, that should probably bother me… but doesn’t. Stretch marks, on my hips.  I’m not a big girl. (yeah, I know up there, maybe it sounded like I am. I have issues, but I’m not big.  I’m not even overweight, in fact, I’m probably underweight by doctors’ ridiculously high numbers) No, I’m not a big girl, but I had three children…and gained a TON of weight with each. The middle one about did me in…over 70 pounds gained. And Hello, stretchmarks…on my hips!  These are big, nasty marks, but I like them. You heard me… I don’t tolerate them, I actually LIKE them. They look like a tiger gave me a hug and clawed my hips. I love big cats and I just think they are sort of cool. But! I’ve always kept that little gem a secret. How bizarre to like something that is obviously fucked up! And I hide them, from everyone, because even though I like them, I do not want to gross people out. My issues seem to run deeper than esteem, huh?

Where was I? Oh yes, I like the marks that I hide. Now that I’m typing this, I realize, I like ALL of my scars. The things that might bother me the most, the scars from accidents and mishaps, the battle scars of life, I have no problem with. But the things I was born with (why do my ribs have to stick out so much?!), threaten to bring me down daily. I obsess to the point that I don’t even know why people like me, much less love me.

I hide.
I hide what I like, I hide what I hate.
Then, as so often happens in life, a small conversation occurred that made me stop and think. I mean, really think… for days.
Someone else likes my tiger marks?! Not just deals with them, ignores them, gets over them, but LIKES them… like I like them?! That kind of threw a monkey wrench in my whole mindset on life. She wouldn’t lie to me about this, and it was out of the blue, so I had no choice but to believe. Okay.
I’d never asked my husband about his thoughts, because well… that’s just scary. I gathered my courage, told him of this conversation and you know what?! Sir said he had always liked them too, but never told me because he thought I’d think it was weird. My mind was blown!!
My mind is still kind of blown.

Here is this thing, this ugly thing that I like, but I hide for fear of other people’s reactions. But my two most favorite people seem to feel the same way I do about this flaw…and perhaps do not even see it as a flaw. Huh.
These same two people tell me nutty, lovely, nice things all the time… but I brush it off. I call them crazy and blind. I try to say thanks, but I just don’t feel what they are saying, and I block it out. Sometimes (often) these nice things make me cry, because I WANT to be all that they say I am, but I’m not. I’m so afraid that one day, their vision will clear and they will really SEE me…and the shit will hit the fan. I cannot accept a compliment because I do not want to see the ultimate disappointment when they finally come around to reality. Yes, I put that in bold because that’s the bare bones, isn’t it.? Woah. Message!

If they mean what they say about the claw marks, and I know that they do, then maybe they mean what they say about the fucked up things I hate, too. Maybe the things I hate should be put into the same category as the scars. Maybe the things I hate, that I obsess about, also tell a story. Maybe those things are what make me who I am. Maybe who I am right now, like this – a girl with a shitty ton of flaws, isn’t so bad. Maybe. I do have an amazingly awesome life, with a few very special people in it, so maybe I need to be a little softer with myself. Maybe I need to let up…just a little. Maybe it’s time to just breathe and believe. Maybe. I don’t know.

I do know that little things can spark such overwhelmingly big things.
Small words lead to big changes.
Be careful what you say…

~shygirl

Advertisements

Thinking [sing-along] Thursday

I am working on me today…this week… this month… this year… this lifetime.  I’ve droned on and on about my poor self esteem here and now is the time to really get to work.  I can’t promise to never bring it up again, but for now, I’m done with it.

So, how about this instead:  I love music.  Not a day goes by that I don’t listen to music and sing right along with it…quite loudly.  Music makes me happy and never fails to make me feel better when my day is less than stellar.  I especially like music that makes me want to rally the troops and say “f#ck the haters!”, which is precisely the reason I’ll always be a punk rock girl at heart (as you see, though, my tastes are varied).

Join me in this sing-along and have a happy Thursday!

~shygirl

The song I currently sing in the shower:

One of my favorite songs EVER:

I feel this way in regard my daughters, now I am trying to feel this way about myself:

This one doesn’t have a video… but is absolutely worth listening to:

…and she qualifies!

Definition:
qualify:  make (a statement or assertion) less absolute; add reservations to.

I qualify most everything.  Seriously, almost every decent thing I say about myself is accompanied with fine print.  A little something like this:

“Here’s a photo – ignore my __________ (insert issue of the hour).”

“Great photo!!!  Too bad I’m in it.”

“I love this product, but I’m odd so….”

“I wrote this, but please skip over any errors, I was [tired, distracted, busy].”

“I like playing _______, sorry I suck.”

“Oh, you enjoyed dinner?  I’m glad because I messed up __________ .”

When I notice this happening multiple times each day, I become a little sick with myself… and quite a bit sad, too.  Not to even mention how annoying this must be to those around me.  ACK!  I try to rein it in, but I just cannot accept a compliment without trying to disprove it.  I also do not like the idea of anyone thinking I am bragging or LOOKING for a compliment.  *shudder*

I’ve been doing this for as long as I can remember, but only recently has it begun to bother me. Only since the implementation of a D/s dynamic has it even crossed my mind that all this qualifying might not be a good thing.  So, why do I do it?  I suppose it all boils down to self-esteem.  Mine has always been pretty low.

Even though…

My Husband has always tried His best to help boost my esteem, but since adding Sir to His list of titles, the efforts have been more…serious, demanding, forceful.  I’d like to think I’ve gotten some bit better.  I, at least, have moments where I feel pretty good about me.

And then there’s the fact that these last few months, my sweet, sexy Cailin has seen so much of me and has told me many of the same things my Sir has been saying for 17 years.  [I need to just pause this post for a moment to let that sentence resonate.  It’s mind-blowingly big!]  So, truly, I should be cured, right?  I have confidence now, my self-esteem is no longer warped, and I don’t feel compelled to qualify everything, right?!

W.R.O.N.G.

Now… mostly… I just think TWO people are crazy or blind!  😉  kidding.  My self esteem is a bit better – or is that my will power?  I try to ignore the bitch in my head constantly criticizing my thighs, my face, my voice, my self. Some days I do a GREAT job, other days she just yells too loudly.  I think the good days are beginning to outnumber the critical days, but I still cannot get away from qualifying everything.

Why?

Using qualifiers and disclaimers is maybe one of the last walls I have left standing.  It is a nice protective shell around my feelings.  Because… if I point out my obvious flaws (whether they are there or not is a post unto itself) before others have a chance to… NO ONE CAN HURT ME!  TaDaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

Since this whole D/s thing entered my life, I have been knocking down walls left and right – some happily and some with many tears.  I have opened up in ways I never thought possible.  I have grown as a better wife, submissive, mom… hell, I’m a much better person than I was this time last year. My Sir has ALWAYS been my world and we have had such a happy, sex-filled, wonderful life together – D/s has just made everything brighter and much more focused.  We are home.

I still have quite a bit of fine-tuning to do – lots of things to work on!  But if you aren’t learning, you aren’t living so I’m happy to keep laboring away.  So!  Today is the day that I will try to stop qualifying my words, thoughts, pictures, life.  Maybe it will be okay – from time to time – for the people in my life to know I’m actually NOT horrible at everything, that my thighs are NOT as big as a cow’s, and that the food I make is sometimes really good.

Happy Saturday, Happy Weekend, Happy Life!

~shygirl

This post was originally intended to be a Thursday post, but it was more exploratory than I realized and I’ve worked through some things while writing it. I think an under-the-radar slide into Saturday is the better way to go.