I’m only human. Let me feel like one

I saw something this evening that really made me think.



This is very true. People seem to think that because you’re spiritual, you should be happy and light all the time. The same ideas really apply to age as well. Like just because you’re older, you should act a certain way, like maturity equals handling things differently.

Well, some of this is true. My spirituality has helped me look at things in a different way, and getting older has made my priorities different. However, I am still human, and I have human emotions. Being out in the world and being with different people and different personalities everyday isn’t always easy. It’s not easy for anyone.

If I find myself in a toxic environment, even if everyone is laughing and it “seems” happy, I can always feel the truth. The longer I am in this environment, the more it affects me. The energy eventually becomes a part of me, and unfortunately, I act that part. It takes practice to control to not let this take me over. I’m not perfect at this, but I’m working at it.

No matter how much I work at it, the end result is the same. If I am beaten down again and again, it breaks my spirit. I can feel it. How can I not? I think this is human. Being evolved spiritually and being on this earth longer than some doesn’t mean that I have no emotions, and it doesn’t mean that I can let everything go easily. It takes work, and with the things I’ve been through lately, it’s been a challenge.

Spirituality tells me to love. Just love. But I personally don’t believe it’s possible to love everyone. It’s impossible to live up to. Maybe accept everyone is a better word, I don’t know. In my experience, it’s hard to both love or accept anyone that constantly tries to break me down. Yes, it’s their issue. Yes, their actions most likely have nothing to do with me. But when they affect my ability to be myself, when their actions break me, how can I feel love and acceptance? I can’t. And I shouldn’t be expected to feel these things. I get angry. I get resentful. I get pushed to my limit. I accept that I have limits.

So, I absorb negativity. Even if it’s disguised as happiness, I still feel it. I’m an Empath. I can’t help it. I do what I can to handle it, yet I’m not a perfect spiritual being. I’m a human being. And yes, I can be negative. Unbelievably so. Some people look at me and can’t comprehend this, because I’m older than them, or because I am spiritual. I am indeed these two things, yet I feel things just like everyone else does, and even though I have the tools to handle bad things, they don’t always work.

I know I can never realistically separate myself from everything negative. It’s everywhere. But I can try to make myself better. And even so, I still swear, I still complain, and I still point out things I hate. I know “thoughts are things” and what you give is what you get, but I have a very low tolerance for mean. It affects me, I won’t lie.

So, I’m going to try again. I’m praying for patience and understanding, and the ability to let things go. I’ll try everyday. Maybe I’ll get it right.

Crazy Hooker Cat Lady

So, today was interesting. I was at work and the boyfriend stopped by on his motorbike to bring me coffee. We were standing outside, minding our own business, and suddenly some random guy in red plaid pajama pants appeared, and asked me how much I charged. Huh? Was he serious? He said, “You look like a hooker!” My boyfriend turned around and looked at him, and he yelled, “Do you want to fight me, bitch?!”

What the hell. We both started laughing, because, well, how could we not? This seemed to piss him off more. He yelled obscenities at us and I yelled obscenities back, and told him to put some clothes on. He kept telling me I looked like a hooker. I asked him what his problem was. All he said was, “You look like a hooker.”
When I told him to fuck off, he said, “I’m in college! Get a job!” And then he left.

The boyfriend and I just looked at each other, wondering what the hell just happened. We kissed goodbye, and he drove away, and I went back to work.

How bizarre that was. I continued with my day, a bit shaken up for about five or ten minutes, and then I started to get pissed. Not because of what this guy said, not because of the fact that we were the target of his random and unwarranted rage, but because of what I could’ve said and didn’t. And this is when something hit me. A moment of clarity.

This kind of treatment was “normal” for me a few years back when I was living in NYC. I was 25. I was yelled at on the streets by men If I didn’t acknowledge them, they’d call me a bitch. On the subway at rush hour when it was standing room only, I would be rubbed against and groped. I’d go home and cry. Their comments broke me. I was fragile anyway, and someone calling me a bitch just broke me to pieces. I took their behavior and their words personally.

So, fast forward to today. This completely random act of anger from this man made me want to fight back. My boyfriend stood there, stunned and laughing, like I was. Not once did I look to him to save me. And not once did I take his words personally. “You look like a hooker” didn’t have anything to do with me. His anger had nothing to do with me. I was very happy to tell him to fuck off, and I would’ve kept this clever banter going, but he left.

Now I’m sitting here and writing this, and I feel empowered. It might seem crazy, but this angry dude showed me how much I’ve grown, and how strong I’ve become. Words are just words. They aren’t necessarily the truth. A few years ago, I would’ve been crushed by this, and I would’ve started an argument in my relationship as well. I can hear me now, “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?” “Why aren’t you saying something?” Well, I said something. And the thought of a man saving me didn’t even enter my mind. Fuck this douche for taking his bad day out on us. Fuck him. And he left the situation. Not me.

If this guy was in front of me now, I would rip him a new asshole. I look like a hooker? No. I’m a woman that dresses the way she wants and doesn’t give a shit if she’s objectified or judged by anyone. I was wearing tights with cats on them. So I’m a hooker that wears cute cat tights? Is it because I was wearing all black ? I’m a cat wearing hooker? Give me a break. Wearing pajamas in public should be more embarrassing. Especially if you pick fights with people. You can at least look tough. Red plaid pajamas aren’t so tough, buddy boy.

So, very long story short, I learned a lot today. That I have a thicker skin than I thought, that I can stand up for myself, and that I don’t take someone’s random verbal assault personally. So, today was a bit odd, but I think I win. Do I wanna fight you, bitch? I think I already did.


I’m unapologetically myself with no backup

How do we define our own personal style? Is it rebelling against society? Is it how we were raised? Is it what is the most trendy at the moment?

I’ve always been a bit different. Style-wise and in general. It comes naturally to me. I don’t “try” to be different. I just am. I have a hard time with people who are “different” in groups. Like the oh so popular Hipsters we hear about. They like to say they stray from the norm, yet they all look and act the same. Groups of rebellious people. I’ve never had the luxury of fitting into any group. It’s always been just me. No one ever dressed like me, never thought like me, or acted like me. And I suffered for it. I didn’t have people just like me to fall back on. I was out there all alone, fighting to be myself.

I see people everyday who try to show how quirky they are. Following the trends. But are they really quirky and different? Aren’t they just a part of a group of people that do the exact same thing?

As I’ve gotten older, my style has changed, but it’s not because someone else has done it too. Individuality is a precious thing. The key word is “individual” here. Being comfortable enough with yourself to dress your own way, and be yourself. Without the comfort of anyone else doing the same. I had friends in school who were “out there” for a while, and then it faded. Then there was me. Still the same, because it’s who I was. And I usually felt alone. Because who I was wasn’t a phase. It was real. I got stared at and laughed at in public, and I couldn’t figure out why. In a moment of desperation, I went to see my guidance counselor about this. Her response to me was, “Well, have you thought about changing the way you dress?” No. I didn’t think of that, since how I looked was clearly normal to me. Now that I look back on that, how dare she say that! Try to suggest that changing to please people is an appropriate solution. I wish I could see her again, so I could tell her this. It’s damaging. It’s almost humiliating. Especially to a 16 year old kid.

It takes courage to do what you do when no one else is doing the same. For those of us that are real, it’s a necessity. There’s no other choice. No like-minded people to fall back on, no labels to define you. Yet we do it. It’s the essence of who we are. I’ve grown to be proud of this, even though it’s painful at times. There’s no other option after all. I’ll take the snickers and the stares. Something about me is worth noticing, I guess.


I’m so sick of mean girls

It seems that no matter how many years I’ve lived on this earth, or how much I’ve learned, there will always be mean girls. You know the ones I’m talking about. The girls that are sweet to your face, but will break you down any chance they get. I thought I had grown past this, but I haven’t.

I deal with different age groups everyday. I’d like to think that we can all get along for the most part, but no. There’s always one that is ready to cut you down, just for the sake of it. The one that watches your every move for some ungodly reason. When they have a life to live and friends to see. You can’t imagine why they would focus their attention on you. Yet they are oh so sweet and look for your guidance. Yet they are manipulative and conniving. You know these girls. I sure do, but I don’t want to.

I’ve experienced this lately, and while I’m old enough now to not let it consume me, it still pisses me off. Especially when I’ve always been proud of my judge of character. This one person in particular almost fooled me. I started to care for her, almost like a little sister. She’s good. In a manipulative, horrible person kind of way. I’m more angry at myself than her. I let her in. It takes a lot for me to do that.

So, she hides behind this sweet and innocent exterior, yet I know what’s up. I can’t change who she is. When I’m no longer the target, someone else will be.

I’d love to escape the mean girls, but I can’t. Age and experience can’t help me there. All I know is, the mean girls I experienced as a teenager hurt me. The mean girls I experience now just piss me right off. They are looking for recognition from someone. Anyone. And they’ll do whatever to get it. I understand that now. However, I’m not one of those people. I’m not the teacher’s pet, I’m not a protege.

So, any mean girl that might be reading this (I know there’s one or two :)), get over yourselves. This isn’t high school anymore. Is it fun for you to mess with people’s lives? Do you think it will bring you respect? No, it won’t. It just makes you more transparent to those like me that can see through your crap.

Get on with your lives. And for god’s sake stop being so damned phony. If you’re going to be a mean girl, at least walk your talk. Just please walk away from me.

Move along. There’s nothing to see here

People are fascinated with the unconventional. I’ve always been pretty open when talking about my life. My issues, my living situation, you name it. But when my life starts becoming a novelty, that’s where I draw the line.

You wouldn’t believe the questions I get. “Why don’t you let your hair grow out?” “Do you have sex with two people?” “Why can’t I see your hair?”

It’s exhausting. I thought that being open about my life would calm the questions, but no, it doesn’t.

I have a medical condition where I choose to wear wigs. I’m fine with it. I’ve learned to love it, in fact. Yet the questions come.

I am married yet have a separate emotional life from my husband. I have a partner. My husband and I are friends and roommates. The questions come about that too.

I usually hear, “oh I could never do that.” And what does that mean? It wouldn’t work for your life? That’s too bad, because it works fine for mine. Who cares if you could never do that? Who’s asking you to?

Recently, I was made the center of attention because of my hair. Like it was some kind of joke. “I want you to grow your hair out” someone said. “Oh I could never shave my head and wear wigs” said another. These “conversations” have followed me throughout my life, and I can only wonder, why does anyone care so much?

Why is my living situation so intriguing? Why do you give a shit about my hair? Why? Is your own life so boring that you have to focus on me?

This has been happening more frequently in my life lately, and I’m not sure why. It’s irritating to say the least, and I want it to stop. I’m not a sideshow at the fair. I’m a real person living life the way it works for me. I’m in the process of trying to handle this gracefully. The trouble is, I hate confrontation so much, I’ll hold this all in and I’ll blow up someday at some poor soul who “innocently” asks me what my hair looks like.

My life is mine. I’m thankful that I’ve finally become comfortable with the parts I once hated so much. It’s taken work. Lots and lots of inner work. But just because I’m comfortable with it, doesn’t mean you can say whatever you want and ask stupid questions to satisfy your own curiosity.

The ones that have done this, I know are reading this too. Just think of your deepest insecurity. Would you like someone asking you stupid questions about it? I don’t think you would.

My life might not be like yours, but it works for me. I know it’s almost unheard of that ex-husbands and wives get along. And it’s unheard of that someone could finally be comfortable and find peace with issues that haunted them for a lifetime. That’s me.

So when someone is open and honest with you, please don’t exploit them. And if you’d never do what they do, good for you. But don’t take that away from them. It’s not your life.

If you love me, prove it

When we first meet our beloved, things are surreal. Romance, passion, the “I can’t live without you” moments. It’s magical. It would be nice to live here. To feel these things forever. But life happens.

You and your beloved start a life together. And life gets in the way.
How do you both deal with life?
Do you let it consume you, or do you take it on together? It all depends on how important you are to each other, of course.

I believe in passion and deep love. And the instant flames don’t have to be extinguished. But if the connection is real, they should be nurtured and they can keep burning. Or at least smoldering 🙂

Even though passion is real and slow burning, you must make room for real life. Otherwise you wouldn’t get anything done! 🙂

When real life things happen, you must face them together. Whether one person is affected more than the other doesn’t matter. Partners take on the other’s pain. That’s how I feel it should be. At least, that’s what I know.

If you have a perfect and passionately blissful relationship with your beloved, they should be there in times of pain. It shouldn’t be questioned. When souls are joined, pain is shared. You should never have to ask for love. It should just be there.

When you are facing a difficult time, how your partner treats you is a clear sign of their love and commitment to you. Read these signs. Do they make you feel safe? Do they make you feel loved? If the answer is no, then maybe you need to talk to them. Or maybe they aren’t for you. Love during the good times is easy. Love during the hard times is conditional. This will tell you all you need to know about the one you love, and it will give plenty of insight to your future.

Be honest with yourself and your priorities. Is the passion worth letting go of things meaningful to you? Passion is hard to give up, regardless of what we believe.

It’s easy to fall into the fantasy of romantic perfection. I’ve done it. But when the chips are down and he shows you who he really is, good or bad….believe him. <3

Take responsibility, dammit

With Robin Williams suicide recently, there has been an outpouring of depression posts. “Depression is a real illness,” “What depressed people want you to know.” Etc…

Well, I’ve been there. And I’m still there. I have anxiety, depression, ADD, and bipolar to name a few. It’s hell. I know this. I can say with confidence that medication works wonders. If I were against meds, I might not be here at this moment. I believe that they can help.

Being able to function daily takes work. I live it. It frustrates me to no end when someone with crippling depression tells me they’re against medication. Really? Someone with high cholesterol takes meds to control it, and someone with diabetes does too.
If it was a “real” issue, it would kind of go like this, and it would make absolutely no sense to anyone:

“My blood sugar is so low. I feel weak and I might go into a coma”

“Do you take insulin?”

“No. I don’t believe in medication.”


I know it doesn’t work that way. When someone has a life threatening illness, they do what they can do to take care of themselves. Mental illness is the same thing. For some reason, we’ve been taught that we can control our anxiety and depression. Like it’s all in our head. We can overcome it. Train ourselves. No. We can’t. And surrendering to this and getting help is what we need. Meds help. What’s happening in our brains is physical. It affects our entire being.

So, I take medication. I’m not ashamed of it. I don’t know how I functioned without it. However it takes someone with much self-awareness to realize that I needed a little help. If I’ve done anything right over the years, it’s that.

I have a very hard time with people dealing with the things that I do, and refuse help. Why? If you have a headache, you take ibuprofen or Tylenol or whatever. If you have a cold, you take NyQuil. How is this different? It’s not, really. We all just have to change how we think about mental illness. The words even sound horrible. Yet it’s like any other physical ailment we could acquire. Mental illness brings padded rooms and straight jackets to mind. Give me a break. It’s not black and white like that. Yet, that’s where our minds go. Even mine. I won’t lie.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve been very open about what I go through daily. I’m no longer ashamed of it. I’m doing what I can to make things as good as I can for myself. The fact that I take medication isn’t a weakness. It’s something everyone like me should consider. If you’re against it , yet look for support from others, you may just alienate yourself from everyone. The first step to helping yourself is to admit that you need help. As cliche as it is, it’s the truth. Step up and take control of your life. I realized that I’m worth it, and so are you