self-love sunday: some rambles (it’s been a long week)

sleepy, per usual.

(san francisco at sun down, the other day)

my nocturnal clock is off. (or: i stayed up too late drinking whiskey in honor of st. patrick’s day but mainly in honor of one of my best friend’s birthdays).

this week has been weird. light and heavy in all moments, together. sluggish, too. i’ve spent a lot of time observing my emotions, feeling them out. simply a quiet week, peppered with overwhelming, abundant moments too intricate to explain. the best way to describe it: i am reentering consciousness.

the world looks like ireland outside my window. earlier this week fog ate into the tops of mountains, obscuring them. now clouds mix with blue sky i missed. everything is green. save for the one tree, defiant in holding yellow. i’m contemplating a cup of coffee. i’m thinking, in general.

i miss my friends. i miss sitting around smoking bowls and talking, talking, talking. i miss the closeness. i miss the connection. i miss knowing they’ll always be there. most days i keep the company of an empty house and an over-active mind. often my irrationality tells me i am slipping from friends’ consciousnesses. often i believe it. deep down i question my importance. my therapist tells me i am co-dependant and i can’t disagree. i’m still learning to appreciate my self, still searching for such self-acceptance and self-love in other people. still measuring my self-worth in the number of phone calls and texts and tips-of-the-hat i receive each week. it’s like this: fun things happen and i’ll find out about them later via stories, laugh and wonder why i am not helping tell them instead. wonder where invitations disappear to. wonder why i care.

frequently i wonder, too, “will i ever be settled?”

i think i know the answer. (i know — zoe, stop. we know. weknowweknowweknow. these thoughts are real, though. they’re not arbitrary. they’re as real as your fear of the dark or your fear of heights. let me feel. let me explore. let me process and progress as slowly as i need to. sit on your judgement because i am not judging you and your process.)

my heart feels sealed off. frozen in uncertainty, sadness, self-loathing and overwhelm. there are truths there, buried deep and fully-alive though only half-recognized. the me i want to be, the me i am, the me i see, will not come out. she’s rooted. stuck. available to only one or two people in my life.

i crave intimacy and authenticity like i do chocolate and cake and brussel sprouts (lack of such things in my life are some of the main reasons my eating disorder lives). times exist where i sit in the company of someone i love and we stumble into an opening, an invitation to speak, to pour my self out. words warm in my chest, bubble up to my throat, roll out onto my tongue, ready. i think, “this is it! it’s time! say it, say it, say it!” but i rarely do. instead i’ll swallow those truths back, slide them past my beating heart and into their caves where they’ll strip off their armor and wait for the next moment to be brave. it hurts every time.

someone told me recently, “you can’t hold all of that inside“. oh, but i do. i’m not good at asking for what i need. what i need feels like too much. so my quietness becomes my way of screaming. “i’m fine” is the biggest lie i’ve ever told.

possibly the craziest part of this crazy is this: i know my real friends love me deeply and unconditionally. i am the one who chooses to not understand, to not grasp fully what that type of love means. i am the one who nods in agreement on the outside while simultaneously rejecting any iota of love on the inside. i recognize i am generally the one keeping myself trapped and bound by fear.

my insides are all messed up. i will always be cleaning house.

i’ve frustrated and hurt a lot of people because of this persistant sadness i can’t quite figure out. i’m afraid that’s only helped distance me from my friends and my friends from me. i’ve let it swallow me entirely, isolate me fully. i’ve let it infiltrate all relationships. i feel like i’ve let a lot of people down, myself included. so it’s no surprise, really, that i struggle to talk to people. no one really knows me, truly. i won’t let them. because i fear losing everyone.

talk about irrational fears.

the good news (yes, there is some) is this: despite my negative rambling, i am getting better. i am opening up. i am slowly, slowly, shedding my fear of abandonment. the more i talk, the more i release. it’s a practice. kind of like strengthening a muscle. work it a little bit, watch it grow stronger.

i’m not sure when i will be able to separate my self-worth from my friendships but i am hopeful one day it will happen. i am hopeful one day i will see myself as my friends see me — as a whole person, not only flaws. i am hopeful one day i will freely ask for what i need without fearing judgement and complete rejection. i am hopeful one day i will be myself without apology, without wanting to be anyone else. i am hopeful that, one day, i will be okay.

this is my process.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: i wrote this in pieces this week, while floating in a weird, weird mood. today i woke up in much brighter spirits. i blame the whiskey fest and the company of one of my best friends, one i never feel shaky or questionable in front of. that and the sun is back after a week of straight rain. and i’m going on a hike!!)

self-love sunday: explain yourself

i lost my shit on friday.

(source)
i woke up light and lovey. calm and steady. i am due for a new pair of pants so i hauled my butt to the mall (mistake one). before i tried anything on i took a few deep breaths. i spoke to myself sweetly, said, “zoe, it doesn’t matter what size you pick up. it doesn’t mean anything.” then i picked out two pants and two dresses and took them to the dressing room (mistake two). and promptly lost my shit.

my restless, egocentric mind went insane. stole the moment to unleash hurtful thoughts. i cried and cried. i cried myself all the way to my friend’s house, where i held it together for, oh, three minutes before unravelling all over. tears did not stop. neither did the questions, the “zoe-what’s-wrong’s”. i got a lot of “it’s just clothes” type comments too. those types of comments set my anger off. because no, it’s not “just about clothes”.

i sat on that frustration for a while. until i realized:

if i ever expect anyone to understand what i am dealing with, i need to open up my mouth and my heart and explain the details.

i cannot keep complaining about how alone i am when i make no effort to let anyone understand.

friends who do not grapple with body-image issues as deeply as i do simply do not understand how clothes shopping can spark a melt-down. it’s like trying to have someone who doesn’t understand drug addiction try and understand it. to them it seems simple. “just stay away from the drugs! just don’t do it!” is the answer to them. when, obviously, it goes much deeper than a physical addition.

while we cooked dinner i brought it up. i said, “i need you to understand this isn’t just about clothes. this isn’t trivial, this isn’t superficial.” i filled her in. i opened up. i explained myself. and, you know, it turned out to be relatively easy, asking for what i needed: understanding.

i know sharing the inner workings of your mind and heart serves up vulnerability you might not think you can swallow. but know this too: your friends love you. they want to help you. there is no judgement there. just another heart wanting to know what makes yours beat, in all the best ways and all the worst ways. responses like, “it’s just about clothes” are your friends ways of not lessening your situation, but of trying to understand. if friends show frustration, know it comes out of exasperated love for you, because they don’t understand how you don’t see the beautiful, amazing person standing in front of them.

after we spoke, i felt lighter. less scared. not embarrassed. everyone deals with issues. these just happen to be mine. they’re weird, they don’t make sense, but.

there is no reason i need to hide in their shadows, trembling with shame.

namaste

zoe

self-love sunday

the right words to start this ramble are not at my fingertips.

(me and daises yesterday in san francisco sunshine)

this week was weird, right?

filled with heavy energy. i slept in weird cycles, experienced insomnia for the better part of the week, woke up foggy every day. an underlying sadness tinted the week.

i spent hours unloading into my journal. honest thoughts. confused thoughts. too many thoughts.

and saw my truth:
i am only honest in words, in writing.

i have so much to say to so many people. so many thoughts and feelings and conversations i want to vocalize. not necessarily pleasant ones, either. but each time i gather the strength and steadiness to open my mouth, it stays closed. those inflated words deflate, fall back to their homes in my chest, and i implode silently.

i am as emotionally developed as my seventeen-year-old self.

i’m too busy being nice, good, easy, to speak my truth, to find my voice and use it. as i explained to a friend the other day: “i am going through the teenage rebellion i never had.“

(although, ironically, i was very quick to share my opinion when i was a teenager)

or, maybe, more accurately, i am going through the quarter life crisis no one talks about. either way, i am a big ball of feelings with no outlet other than my pen and paper. everything inside me is screaming for release. i can’t be afraid of how other people react anymore. it’s not a burden i need to carry. it’s not one i want to carry. this lack of sense of self has me floating int a weird, uncomfortable, shaky place. i’m running around trying to find my self in other people.

i gotta get over this. i’m not as fragile as i keep telling myself.

this week, i’m shooting for honesty.

off the page.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: remember when i mentioned phantogram the other music monday? well, give the phantogram pandora station a listen. hot damn.)

(p.p.s: i haven’t felt like blogging at all this week.)

self-love sunday

before i start a recap of sorts:

(flowers on a walk the other day)

today my little brother turns eighteen.

kind of like cinderella pulling her whole transformation, my brother is an adult now (though not in a dress and carriage-made-from-pumpkin), suddenly. an adult. like, legal. which is weird because i remember when he was born, how little he was in my own little arms.

to commemorate the occasion, i am making chili bread bowls, per his request. and cake. because birthdays are not birthdays without cake in my eyes.

yup.

anyway.

so, i am working on friendships. on connecting and reconnecting with people who truly, deeply matter. often times we chase friendships or people who clearly show no interest in slowing their retreat. we wonder, “why am i left behind?” while the solids in our lives trail us, wondering “why doesn’t she turn around?”.

confession: i am a die-hard chaser.

i pour attention and affection into friendships my intuition chirps are “one sided”. i did it in early friendships. i did it in high school. i did it in college. i do it now. worrying about how i stand in the lives of part-time friends prompts the burn of anxiety. of loneliness. of depression. it also hurts the real friendships i have, as those true sources of joy distance themselves, shaking their heads at my breathless game of catch and release.

slowly i am understanding the need to balance the energy i put into relationships, including the one i hold with myself. i cannot give away my reserves so quickly, so willingly, so entirely to people.

i spent a lot of time with old friends this week (ones from college and one from high school). i noticed the goofy ultra-dork reemerging. easily and naturally. there was never a sense of “am i good enough?“, only “god i missed this”. i did not experience a need to be anyone other than the person i am, to prove something my mind made up. there was no judgement. no anxiety. just a lot of laughter.

i know i am never alone. i know a lot of the time i think myself into a space for one and tell myself no one cares (not true). i am getting there, though. realizing i make myself alone when i concentrate on those part-time friends, when i forget all those beautiful people in my life who are, always, open and willing to embrace me when i need it the most, not when it suits their schedules.

do you ever find yourself worrying over relationships that bring you more unease than ease?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: did any of that make sense? i feel like that was a bunch of word-vomit.)

self-love sunday

i don’t even know where to start today.

a lot happened this week. words, however, are not lending themselves to me, rendering me a writer without expression. i’m just a big ball of feeling.

i am learning to trust my feelings, to question my thoughts. to listen to the whispers of the heart, not the analytical murmurings of a brain. i forget i live in my heart, too.

today, on two feet with arms stretched to the sky, i am open to the world and the universe and abundance. last night, a momentary ‘pop’ released pain in my left shoulder. pain i’ve carried for months. the night before i went to a restorative yoga class and cried. i am releasing.

i am creating space.

i am opening.

i keep thinking, “i don’t know what ought to be.”

over and over.

among other things.

(found in jan spiller’s book cosmic love…or astrology for the soul, i can’t remember. i stumbled across this the other day in a bookstore. i sat there and read for an hour).

love inflates the emptiness felt feelings leave behind.

i breathe deeper. fuller.

there is still salt in the sea water of my life. still waves i navigate. but i am buoyed to a warm, steady happiness.

i am learning how to float.

what are you learning?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: thanks for the comments on the last post. you’re all so supportive and awesome. thankyouthankyouthankyou. i have a lot more to say about voice and speaking and discovering. soon enough!)

self-love sunday: love isn’t conditional

i wrote something the other day.

(source)
about a friend and a conversation.
about a friend and gratitude.

i keep thinking about it.

specifically:

the people who love me most are the people i hurt the most.

because i do. i take for granted the love. the support. the affection and attention. i choose to mis-interpret, to build dramas founded on whimsical thoughts.

to be honest:

i think i am a shitty friend (and daughter. and occasional lover).

i think i tarnished a lot of relationships because i tested people. i tested their capacity to love me. i asked for love without ever actually asking for it. and i always got it. overwhelming amounts of the stuff. i got love so deep i got scared.

i distrusted the relationships i held with people because i never thought beautiful, honest, forgiving, loving relationships existed for me. i thought they might go away. that they were conditional. that i needed to be someone else first. because of lessons learned in horrible, no good relationships. consequently, i’ve strained relationships where nothing but love ever existed. i was the only suspicious one. i tested the boundaries of my friendships to test the extent of other’s love for me.

for that i am regretful.

for that i am embarrassed.

for that i am apologetic.

but.

i know now:

love exists for me.

real, unconditional love.

right now.

and, you know, it’s okay for me to take it.

it’s okay for me to express my love for others, to not always expect some back. it doesn’t mean i am any less seen, any less loved. no one is out to get me. i can drop my suspicions. i can trust. i can believe in the relationships in my life. i can believe in myself.

enough to end the silent investigations.
enough to be content with what was shared if a relationship fades.
enough to soften, to accept what is without over thinking.

enough to simply be.

namaste

zoe

self-love sunday

sleep.

(source)
just, sleep, lovelies.

sleep and love will follow.

last night i slept for eleven and half hours. i crawled into bed at 8:30 and woke up at 9:30. sickness be gone! sleep might be the miracle i forgot all about. in the dreamy REM cycle hours, the body heals. the mind heals. when both body and mind awaken alive and alert, we navigate our lives a little easier.

sound choices come from sound minds.

so indulge in sleep. when you want to do badly by yourself, go to sleep. when your mind starts circling the pit of despair, go to sleep. often times all we really need is a good recharge. listen to your body. when you feel run down, borderline sick, edgy, anxious for no reason, sad…just sleep. often times, especially now, we forgo sleep for other things without realizing that sleep helps us do the things we truly want to do — and well.

it’s sunday. tomorrow starts the new week. sleep well tonight and start the week off on the right foot. your mind and body will thank you.

namaste

zoe

self-love sunday

i am writing this out of pure sadness and honesty.

(creepy window i photographed on haight street a few weeks ago)

i’ll start here: i don’t know what to do anymore.

i don’t know who to talk to or what to say. i don’t know how to stop cycling. i don’t know how to live in positivity.

parts of me wonder if i don’t know how to do this because i keep telling myself i can’t. then another part of me doesn’t get how i can’t because i want to be different so badly. then i just feel more lost and more confused.

friends keep telling me to just drop it, just move on, just live my fucking life. i want to. i want to with every fiber of my being. i want to love and be loved. i want to treat myself well. i want to release all my anger and resentment. i want to bath in the light of life, not sink into its darkness. but…I DON’T KNOW HOW (i cannot, cannot, cannot express this more. if we were together, in person, i might be screaming this).

i keep asking myself, how did i end up here? how did the younger me, the one who said “i have too much self-respect to starve myself and throw up”, the one who laughed all the time and didn’t take herself so god damn seriously, the one who was fiery and opinionated and talkative — what happened to her? sure, i was an insecure kid. always insecure. but i never used to let it wind up hurting me like its been hurting me for almost two and a half years. (it’s not a lifetime but two and a half years is a lot of time. it’s time i won’t get back and it’s time i could have spent appreciating all the goodness in my life as opposed to all the bleakness).

i’ve forgotten how to feel. physically, emotionally. in yoga, during shavansana, instuctors will ask you to feel your connection to the earth. i can never feel the lower half of my body. my legs feel like nothing. when i want to cry, nothing comes out. if tears do run, they feel crocadile-like: forced. i am paralyzed.

i have so many dreams. so many wants. but some fucking sick monster has me by the ankles and won’t let me float away. i’m afraid that monster is me. and i’m not letting life into my life. just sorrow, fear, and crippling indecision.

i am, for lack of a better description, a lost little girl. i do not feel twenty-two (but, then again, how are twenty-two year olds supposed to feel?). i feel like a dependent, overly-sensitive five-year-old nuisance.

maybe that’s the problem in and of itself.

so. tell me. please, before i explode: how do YOU “let go”?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: just in case you were wondering, self-love was not had this week. just a lot of internal battles in this forever war. and a lot of losing. I AM REACHING MY PERSONAL BOILING POINT.)

you all are so sweet

i wish i could hug you tighttighttight and tell you how much i appreciate you.

instead i can only offer you words on a screen from a place you don’t know. i hope it’ll suffice.

anyway, not much to say today other than i am tired. i ate too much last night and it affected the healing aspect of sleep (i did sleep like a rock — it just doesn’t feel like it). it’s raining again. but we need the rain so i am trying to appreciate it instead of resent it. i had a wonderful talk with my mom last night. i cried and cried and tried to explain everything i am thinking and feeling. it’s funny how much we discount our parents. they were our age once, too. mostly it felt great to unload a little bit, to have someone tell me it’s okay, that it will be okay.

for now i am heading off to san diego again for another little three day romp. this time i am bringing along one of my closest friends. we’re driving so we’ll have a lot of time to talk, listen to music, and enjoy the changing scenery (i have a feeling it’s not raining down south). i am hoping a little vacation from life and from myself will refill my wells of motivation and inspiration. fingers and toes crossed.

have a lovely sunday.

and thank you, again.

namaste

zoe

self-love sunday: vulnerability

i am introspective by nature.

(source)
(warning: rambling ahead.)

every day i sort through thoughts, sift through the clutter i hoard up there. sometimes, the things i manage to wiggle free strike a nerve. they’ll sink into my conscious and refuse to budge until i methodically mull over them. the other day, a heavy thought dropped itself into view.

i am, nearly every day, working towards alleviating the acidic burn left by my issues. i am working on awareness, mindfulness, patience, and forgiveness. i am working on remembering life is a conscious practice. yet, occasionally, i fumble over a more difficult discovery in my mind. the negative voice creeps in, quickly, often quietly, and always relentlessly.

the other day it occurred to me how immature i feel in regards to relationships. i know how to like some one. i know how to attract some one. however, the moment friendly flirtations take a more serious turn, i clam up. i look for reasons to work myself out of a potentially intimate connection. i tell myself things like “they don’t really like me.”

why?

one word: vulnerability.

the potential of allowing someone to see me completely, as a person and as a body, terrifies me. i am bad at relationships, too, because i am immobilized by the potential of heartache. the potential. i refuse to see what a relationship offers (the opportunity for growth, the opportunity for sharing, the opportunity to love and be loved) and instead choose to dwell on all the negative aspects (like the possibility of someone losing interest, the possibility of someone discovering my body, the possibility of being cheated on…again).

an example (or two):

i mentioned recently someone touched the parts of me i rage against the hardest (my midsection, in its entirety). what i neglected to mention was my reaction. specifically my mental reaction. i thought, “well, he discovered my secret” (as in, he found out about my horrible bits). after that i thought, “wow, he’s still here.”

i am afraid of gaining something wonderful and losing it because i am not enough. i am afraid of jealousy, possessiveness, and negativity spurred by my insecurity. i know in order to be in a healthy, honest relationship, i need to soften, to be open to change, to positivity, to love. i know that, for a relationship to function properly, i need to be able to trust myself, to believe i am enough for someone, to believe in the beauty of my character and my beauty in general. i need to not shut down and retreat into the safety zone of loneliness i know too well.

i am so ready to grow. yet, i feel i am bad at relationships because i can’t even maintain a healthy one with myself. i wonder how i expect myself to be open to vulnerability when i am way too lightening quick to cut myself down, when i instinctively talk myself into believing the person i am attracted to won’t be attracted to me because peoples a, b, and c possess so much more than me.

the only consolation i can offer myself right now is the fact that i am aware (though, sometimes i think i am all too aware – another ramble for another day). i am mindful of my brain’s immediate instincts. i am attempting to breathe through tough thoughts spat at me by my negative self, kind of like breathing through a mind contraction of sorts: i know it will be painful to experience but i know it will pass.

the time for change is now. i feel consistently, constantly, the hand of the universe on my back, gently encouraging me forward, even while my heels dig in. old ways of thinking, being, and existing shed themselves from me daily and nightly, flutter away on the gusts of wind only change blows. with new foundations forming beneath my feet, i stand, feeling naked and half-new. i am exposed in this rebirth, raw and uncertain.

i am scared.

but i am ready.

honestly though, you’re never really prepared for anything. the time for change is always now. new beginnings start every moment. it’s just a matter of being willing to receive them. it’s a matter of surrendering to your vulnerability and realizing that, in all actuality, you will be just fine.

definitely still learning. definitely.

namaste

zoe