Category Archives: creativity

Am I sitting in a recliner on my husband’s patio?

Yes.

Was the recliner always there? No, I just moved it because patio chairs are universally uncomfortable and I want to be comfy as fuck right now.

Am I wearing storm trooper socks? Yes. They are at target in case anyone is interested.

This is heavenly.

Today is Friday and I am in South Africa with my dogs and hot husband. Well, he’s at work. In any other time and place during my adult life, I would have been working. I’m actually mildly petrified about not working. Not working leaves a whole lot of time for me to think, which means I am really good at it in the worst way possible.

You may be asking yourself, “Well, why don’t you work?” The answer, as with all things in my life, is complicated. I am taking some extended leave and going back to my other job every sixty days. Teleworking wasn’t an option and being apart from hot husband was probably going to give one of us a nervous breakdown (by one of us, I think we can all agree, I mean me). I love working, but I wasn’t happy and we are financially stable enough to afford this situation temporarily.

I am probably on the cusp of taking a two year leave of absence because hoorah, marine corps. Part of me has a sinking feeling about this, but the other part thinks that maybe it’s time for some changes. Or something different. Maybe its time to do the things I want to do. All those things I put off or didn’t do because I was focused on work.

So, I made a list and I’m going to do the things I want to do. Except go shopping because let’s face it I have a minor obsession with clothes and shoes. And stuff.

Sometimes it’s not even big stuff. It’s just putting the recliner on the patio because I can. Or insert any other thing you want to do here. Write. Photograph. Go see things. Eat good food. Have fun.

I know this is coming from a place of privilege. I know many people do not have this option. I am lucky. I also need some time to figure out who I want to be when I grow up separate from the ideas of others.

#yolo

Advertisements

Representation Matters

TW: body image

No doubt, you have seen many of these posts and you are rolling your eyes right now. It’s ok. I get it. You can leave.

For those of you staying… *ahem*

Caveat 1: I have a lot of privilege and I have no idea how it feels to wake up every day and be told my skin color is wrong or that my gender identity is offensive or that my desire to represent myself according to my beliefs means people have the right to treat me badly. There are so many people out there suffering because society hates who they are. My self image issues are small in comparison.

As you may have previously read, I am on the fatter side of things. I also have problems with anxiety and depression and sometimes these diseases manifest themselves in a particular hyper-fixation on my body and how it looks. Or how much I weigh. Or if my lower belly pooch looks particularly large today. Or if my dress is too obscene because i have beast (from Beauty and the Beast) legs. Why is it that if I wear a dress and heels I feel particularly scandalous?? Is my face getting fatter? Do my arms look too much like sausages? Am I gaining weight? Did I really need to eat that bag of m&ms? Did I walk or run for one hour today? Are people noticing that I eat a lot? Are people noticing that I eat really fast and clear my plate? Are my shorts too tight? Can I feel my pelvis bones when I lay down or is it layered with fat?

That’s about 50% of the things that I think. I am 20 pounds heavier than I was 4 years ago. At the end of 2012, I was massively depressed and suffering from PTSD. And while I relished the one time the scale said 129, it wasn’t healthy.

Circa 2013

64321_567838381912_1174337705_n.jpg576022_567837608462_1415226689_n

This was at (almost) my lowest weight. At the time, I thought I looked awful and bigger. I probably only gained 3-5 pounds. I used to weigh myself every day and feel bad all day if I weighed more. I wasn’t starving myself, but I would torture myself.

Fast forward to five years later and 20 pounds more (approximately because I don’t weigh myself right now).

19113886_715393235802_1733983436477889327_n.jpg

Note: Not actually that tall. Heels.

Note 2: I know I used a wedding picture. We are making progress but I’m not at full fledged bad picture level of sharing.

So, here I am. Five years later. Still working on accepting myself and trying to be healthy. I’m a lot stronger now which I remind myself is important. I try to eat right even though I get pickle cravings. Intense pickle cravings. But I also try not to restrict myself from good food that I want to eat.  Which brings me to my point as to why representation matters.

I shop online and I look at social media. I see all the fabulous people with their beautiful bodies and both admire them and look at myself like I’m disgusting. Which brings me to my point:

Being able to see different bodies, races, sexes, beliefs is so important to being able to figure out self-love. There is nothing that makes me feel better than to see someone feeling beautiful being who they are and rocking it.

Nothing makes me feel worse than to see those same people being told they don’t deserve to feel good about themselves because they don’t fit a mold.

I love going onto websites and seeing different models rocking clothes. I love seeing people walking down the street with all kinds of swag and rocking their bodies.

I hate when the general public sees someone in wearing clothes and being happy and tells that person they can’t/shouldn’t feel good in their bodies.

So if no one tells you today, I want to tell you this:

1. You are worthy.

2. Your body is beautiful and it is like no one else.

3. I hope if you try a new style or wear something you were afraid to wear out in public that you think of me cheering you on.

4. Your body deserves to grow, exist, and change.

5. Please don’t torture yourself to look a certain way.

Sometimes the hill just sucks

Today, I ran a 10k. I wasn’t incredibly fast today, but I had those semi-philosophical thoughts that occur when running up A BIG FUCKING HILL IN THE SUN WHEN ITS 90 DEGREES.

1. Sometimes, in life, we go through periods where it’s just an obscenely large hill that doesn’t seem to end. This hill sucks. However, you have to climb the hill. You don’t have to like the hill. You can be angry at the hill. You can tell to go fuck itself, but really at the end that hill has to be dealt with.

2. It does not matter how fast you climb the hill. It does not matter how fast others climb the hill. This hill is your hill. No other hills will be like your hill. Get up your hill and stop worrying about everyone else’s.

3. The hill sucks but given that you’ll be spending massive amounts of quality time with the hill. You might as well enjoy the scenery. You’ll never be on this particular hill again.

4. Its hot as hades out so you need to ask yourself if you really care if your jiggly bits are out or if you want to overheat. Might as well be comfortable. Take your shirt off and keep going.

5. It doesn’t matter how fast you go, only that you go. It doesn’t matter how fast you were five years ago. You are not the same person anymore.

6. Your hill is unique. It is not comparable to other hills. So stop beating yourself up.

7. At some point you will be alone. You will look behind you and ahead of you and no one will be there. That’s ok. As much as we may be social creatures, at the end of the day, you are alone.

8. There will be some hills that teach you nothing.

9. Life is full of hills. They do not always disappear with your accomplishments. New ones pop up and old ones rise again. Conquering a hill and saying “now I will be happy” is counter intuitive. Be happy in spite of the hills.

10. Rushing up the hills is not going to make the other hills vanish. Might as well enjoy the walk.

Summer Blues

Last week, I had a melt down at work. The reason for the meltdown isn’t really the point – but I was reminded that people don’t really care all that much about anything outside of themselves (case-in-point I am writing about myself). Because of the type of job I have, I give too much when I shouldn’t. Part of it is guilt and, I guess, the other part just wants to make things work. I want to do a good job, but I do a good job at the expense of myself, sometimes. For example: We needed pizza for an event. My car was getting worked on that day. Instead of getting a ride, I walked to the pizza place (which was closed FOR NO REASON ON A MONDAY) and then walked to the location of the event (probably 2 miles from work). Ordered pizza online and it was delivered in the nic of time. However, why didn’t I just get a ride? Or have someone else order the pizza? Why did I feel the need to make it so hard on myself? Sure, its funny because its so insane. But, its not a good pattern.

It happens like once a month. Maybe, it’s because I find it difficult to ask for help.

I have found over the last year or so that sometimes things, places, people, organizations are just broken. This proverbial jenga tower cannot be rebuilt. Or at least, I am not the person to do it. Or maybe my jenga tower is broken. It’s funny despite everything that has happened over the last 6 years, I still haven’t figured out to how to let go or give less of myself. And, it tears me up because I feel too much, too strongly, too often. I am literally feeling down because of two fictional characters right now. I am literally anxious about trying to move in with my husband and encountering people at his work. It’s not for a month.

At the end of the day, the world goes on with or without me. Work will go on. People will go on. I am not a necessity. I’m not sure why I find this such a hard concept to understand. I am not the life-saving screw. I am just one piece.

I just want to turn off my feelings for a few weeks and catch up on sleep.

In other news, there are some photos that came out nice.

P1030235P1030236P1030238P1030240P1030241P1030243P1030246P1030248P1030249UntitledUntitled2Untitled3Untitled5.jpg

2 Years

Dear Brian,

It’s been to years give or take a few days.  I didn’t forget my promise and I kept taking photographs.  We’ve seen so many different places this year.

I try to do better because I know how you would have lived.  I don’t always succeed and sometimes I question why I am here. But, I guess all I can do is try.

I’ve been so on edge and irritated lately and I wasn’t sure why until I remembered what day it was (even though I reminded myself a few days ago that I needed to make sure that I wrote this).  Then I remembered again that I am here and you are not.  Oddly enough, a storm rolled in during my realization.  I can see the lightning from my window.

I can’t say good things about the world right now, but dogs are still pretty much the best.  Our group of friends are still making their way in this life and I can’t believe its been 10 years since we first met.  I am not sure if we would still be friends now (as I regret we drifted before you died), but I know I still love you.  I know that you showed me so much about loving people and seeing the world differently.

These are the things we saw this year.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

 

I used my Affinity program to create collages of all these photos – and it came out pretty cool.

collagecollage 2

Love,

Lindsay

I was going to write about self-care then I stabbed myself in the eye with a toothbrush

Hello. 

As you may know, self-care is important. Today, in an effort to feel less like death warmed over, I decided I was going to put on a dress, do my makeup, and take myself out to lunch. 

Everything was going well until I looked at my face from another light source. I had done my makeup and went out onto my balcony to make sure I looked ok. I did not. I looked like that drunk white girl at a frat party who was stumbling about telling everyone how much she loves everyone. She’s annoying. Her face is falling off and her chaperone needs to come get her. 

(I can’t claim to be that different because I get drunk and tell people I love their eyebrows. In my defense, fancy eyebrows might as well be art.)

Anywho, I tried to fix it. Changing lipstick or toning it down. I only proceeded to turn into the drunk aunt with drifting lipstick. (Or that one time at the ball where I drank tooo much gin then got belligerent. I’m sorry hot husband.)

Not to self: GIN DOES NOT SAVE LIVES
So while de-makeuping I was brushing my eyebrows out with a tooth brush which is separate from my actual tooth brush and somehow stabbed myself in the eyeball.

When I say that I would rather go blind then ever feel that again I’m not joking. That shit felt like getting an angry tattoo on my cornea. 

My eye still hurts and its been an hour.  

So I can’t talk to you about liking yourself today. I dont like myself at all. But, collectively, we should hate ourselves a bit less. Even if you fail at becoming an instagram level make up artist. Maybe its not so much even liking yourself as it is accepting yourself in your current state.

So, here is an effort to hash out the things that make me weird and awesome. You should make a list too, because I bet you’re wicked cool. 

1. One of my eyelids droops more than the other. And if I’m tired or drinking it’s even worse.

2. Pretty sure my lips are uneven. Also I’m pretty sure I get lipstick on my teeth MORE THAN ANYONE. JESUS CHRIST.

3. I have scars on my knees that look like bruises. They are all from tripping over my own feet which leads me to my next point.

4. I’m pigeon toed as a motherfucker

Ignore everything else and look at my feet in this picture.

AS A MOTHERFUCKER.

5.  My lip hair has gotten darker in recent years so I have to try and make it look like I’m stashe-less in makeup. For some reason that just makes it worse. 

6. I’ve been overweight most of my life except for a handful of times. I’m overweight right now, but I work out and try to be healthy. I spend a lot of time trying to teach myself that I don’t need to be a certain weight. 

7. I hate bras. I’d rather freeboob life. I don’t really care if my nips bother you

8. My feet remind me of when the Beast from beauty and the beast gets turned back to a human at the end. 

Yea, that guy. Actually in pretty much all of his lower body is me. 

9. I get rando dark hairs in strange places. Not to sound cliche, but I blame the entire French Canadian side of the family.

10. I legitimately have a hereditary mole on my ass. Yes. I shit you not (PUN). Three generations.

11. I suck at every sport except running and maybe yoga. When I was on sports teams, I was generally the resident fuck up.  Zero coordination. 

12. I tap my head when I have a panic attack. 

13. When I cry, I get snot everywhere. Its like my body is producing phlegm just for fun. Hot husband has gotten alot of snot on him. 

14.  I hate spandex underwear. They give me wedgies because of my big ass. 

15. I’m obsessed with my hair. For this reason, I literally can’t stop buying shampoo. Its an addiction. I have like five different kinds not including conditioner. WHY DO I FALL FOR THE MARKETING PLOYS EVERY SINGLE TIME?

In closing, I hope this brightens your day and makes you laugh. I’m going to continue eating this hummus thats going to my ass. 

Folding laundry

Things I fixate on while depressed:

1. Your eyebrows. Skeptical arches don’t make themselves (maybe).

2. Keeping your closet clean. I’m up to two weeks. Granted the drawers are a mess but everything is put away.

3. Folding laundry (a necessary evil for keeping your closet clean).

4. Online browsing for a marine corps birthday ball dress. Its sad how many hours I’ve spent on this. 

5. Contemplating my shoe collection. I have a minor addiction.

6. Trying to get at least 10000 steps a day and resorting to reading and walking to motivate myself. 

7. Fixating on wedding photos for several hours and then experiencing a facebook tag mania. 

8. Reading books in series too fast and finish 11 outlander books in three months without realizing you got to the last book then grieve that you have to live without the characters until the 12th book comes out.

9. Rewatch random parts of beauty and the beast several times. 

10. Worry about the shampoo you are using excessively and spend a weird amount of time in the hair care aisle of the store.

11. Name all of the stray dogs near the embassy. Develop relationships even though you can’t take any one of them home because you have two dogs.

12. Stay up late stalking family for photos and information for your massive family tree.