So there I was, in my hometown, pulling into an empty parking spot, with lines barely visible, in an empty parking lot. The conformist in me would never park all willy-nilly (I'm not Helen Keller); even if I was 99.9% sure that the parking lot wasn't going to explode with cars at 8:30 in the evening on a Wednesday. I was going to walk. Simple. No cell phone, no music. I have always preferred doing my exercise without music. It helps me to notice things. Things like the sound of my feet, the wind through the trees, the approach of a car. My thoughts seemingly narrating the walking tour of my childhood. Wondering of all the changes time managed to make while I've been gone. Noticing homes I'd never noticed before. Seeing homes my classmates grew up in and the now, vacant lot, where my middle school best friend used to live, until she moved away with her family to California. I remember the devastation of her departure. Feeling so sad to lose my very own friend. There has never been a time that I've been by here that I didn't think of her. I found her on Facebook a few years ago and she was kind enough to accept my request. Our social media reunion was like a deflated balloon, there was nothing left of who we knew each other to be.
I pass by the mothers of 2 of my school mates, as they share each other's company on a perfect evening to be outdoors. It was as if time had stopped, and it could've easily been one of the many other times I had passed one or both of them walking along our city streets, when I was in high school. I see the familiar furrow of the brow as one tries to place a name with my face. I hear the silence of their conversation as our steps take us farther and farther apart. Did they ask each other if they knew who I was? Maybe they knew it was an "Albertson" girl. Maybe, like me, they let a handful of memories we might have shared, breeze through their mind and briefly noted that we have all lived a lifetime since the last time we spoke, and that the world just isn't the same anymore.
My tour of town takes me up into the new development of homes where a cornfield used to stand. I say new, but I believe it has been around 10 years or more. These homes could be like any across the US. I don't say that to sound rude. It just seems that, for whatever reason, these homes wouldn't be viewed from the street, 50 years from now, as anything special. The homes in town that have graced this city for a handful of decades are just different. The air around the old homes seems full of history and mystery. The new homes built for young couples, young families, older professionals staking claim to their piece of Loogootee land, don't inspire awe. I have no doubt that they are gorgeous inside. They do not however, have character like old historical homes have and it makes me wonder if that was the same thought others had when those historical homes were new. I have mixed emotions as the new street intersects with the old. It seems to me that I don't belong on either.
The High School has had an addition built on, of which I've never seen the inside of. Looking at the high school, my high school, I imagine all the stories it can tell. Thinking of the thousands of kids who walked through those halls and out into the world, made me come to terms with the startling fact that the Loogootee High School experience has changed little over the last 100 years.
I cross the highway for a 3rd time, never having to stop for traffic. In the slow, winding thoughts that have swam through my mind, I ask myself what I am doing here. I see vague visions in my mind's eye of a possible home, life and future living out my life here. My nephew and niece are there, my mom, my sisters. It doesn't stay long, like a sandstorm, the images disintegrate. There are no emotions tied to the images, and my futuristic photo journey leaps into the scenes of many various places. I am there, in the images this time, smiling, with children around me, with life and abundance filling my heart as I see the work of God in me. I now consider myself called to do more, to be more than I have ever done before. The revelation settles in, comfortable and obvious.
I love it here, in my hometown. It is beautiful and fairly uncomplicated. I am lucky. There will always be a place called home for me. On these streets, I am always welcome. My feet will talk this path again, as they have uncountable times before.
No, I don't listen to music when I walk. I like to notice when God is telling me something.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
So there I was...: August 13, 2015- Don't be a troll
So there I was...: August 13, 2015- Don't be a troll: I love to write. Well, let me rephrase that. I love sharing my thoughts about things to really let people understand that they aren't al...
August 13, 2015- Don't be a troll
I love to write. Well, let me rephrase that. I love sharing my thoughts about things to really let people understand that they aren't alone in their kind of crazy! Whether it's my disdain for automatic flushing sinks and toilets, Wal-mart parking lots at Christmas, or mosquitos that try to assassinate me, I have covered all kinds of crazy issues. Quite literally "crazy" when speaking about my immobilizing depression. Which I'm happy to report has not reared it's ugly head since December 17th, 2014. I sound like I'm in a 12 step program. Hi, my name is Brooke, I've been non-suicidal for 249 days. I've mostly been happy for those days, but like all crazy (read= normal) people I have days that are just, rude. Have you ever had that happen to you, where your day just feels like an ugly, itchy wool sweater? All you want to do is get home and take it off. I don't know about you, but I can tell when I open my eyes in the morning if that hideous sweater is already on. It doesn't always happen, but when it does I drink Dos Equis. Wait...scratch that, I'm not the most interesting man in the world. Shocking I know..but apparently a la' Bruce Jenner, I could be! Which certainly sounds like hell to me. I mean, getting paid more than female co-workers who do the same job, having very few people have any real expectations of me, being able to pull off telling perverted jokes..(that might be a bad example, I might have done that once or 700 times), being able to go months without shaving. Tough life.
Well, to be fair, there are a few downsides to being a man; testicles, balding (I've got that going on right now..this list is getting weird), erectile mishaps in general (weirder), not being a mind reader so you tend to make your girl angry, and not being fully accepted as a man after you cried watching Remember the Titans. At the end of the day, it's all what you make of it. If I look back to my ugly itchy sweater days, I'm almost certain that I wore that sweater all day voluntarily. Lord knows I have changed my mind on an outfit once or twice. I didn't have to take one step with the happy hater on.
We've all heard the advice that we have the power to change our thoughts and change our mood. So why don't we? If anything, we have the control of our thoughts. Yes we do, but our mood is sometimes different.
How many women have picked up a magazine on women's "health"? Don't they just piss you off in the long run? They become a nagging mother in-law pointing out all the things you aren't doing right and how far you are from being beautiful in the eyes of some skin salesman. So why do we keep picking them up? There's no easier way to ruin your mood! Bashing your mind or body or even life for pete's sake is a guarantee for the ugly itchy sweater to come out. Thumb through a mag and you'll see every body part that looks better than yours. Let me introduce you to Photoshop. Keep doing that... you'll be a hateful, miserable troll. You know I'm right. I also know that hearing things like "what's important is what's on the inside" or "you're beautiful inside and out" makes anyone who hears those phrases want to physically harm the other person. Those phrases are so passive- aggressive and so transparent, and even if they are true, they are as helpful as Donald Trump giving advice on hairstyles. The problem isn't that there are beautiful models (HELLO! THEY GET THE TITLE OF MODEL FOR A REASON). The problem is that, as women, we don't see our own beauty and most likely we don't really know what makes us feel beautiful. I've learned to stop waiting for compliments to validate...well anything really, including my looks. It's rare that we a) believe someone else's compliment anyway, because we tell ourselves that our mirror tells the real truth and b) even if we do believe the compliment we'll tell ourselves it was just because we're having a good hair day or it doesn't count because it was someone we see as less attractive than our self. Wow, we are miserable trolls. Time to knock that shit off. Let's get real for a half second. There is at least one thing about yourself that you know is your best asset. I really like my eyes. They tend to change colors depending on what I wear, and when I've seen them in pictures I've never scolded myself for not holding my eyes in so I didn't look fat. If there isn't one single thing you like about yourself, then stop reading this, sit quietly and say to yourself over and over until the tears flow "I am worthy".
If you have grown up feeling as if you always fell short of someone else's expectations, or maybe they were your own expectations, you won't find peace within yourself until you forgive yourself for letting those feelings hurt you. We all have this sort of monkey on our back. And I can tell you first hand that grabbing that monkey by the tail and swinging it's nappy ass into hell is the best thing you can do for your self-esteem. Sit there and imagine all the nasty, flea infested thoughts that monkey caused and visualize it falling into the flames of hell where all those negative beliefs burn up, right along with the monkey. If you aren't into animal cruelty, then make it a little black back pack.
When you claim your worthiness, you begin to cherish treating yourself well. You start learning what you need and deserve to have, and one day it will hit you. You don't find a thing you love, you'll find a person. She's waiting in the mirror for you to see her.
Well, to be fair, there are a few downsides to being a man; testicles, balding (I've got that going on right now..this list is getting weird), erectile mishaps in general (weirder), not being a mind reader so you tend to make your girl angry, and not being fully accepted as a man after you cried watching Remember the Titans. At the end of the day, it's all what you make of it. If I look back to my ugly itchy sweater days, I'm almost certain that I wore that sweater all day voluntarily. Lord knows I have changed my mind on an outfit once or twice. I didn't have to take one step with the happy hater on.
We've all heard the advice that we have the power to change our thoughts and change our mood. So why don't we? If anything, we have the control of our thoughts. Yes we do, but our mood is sometimes different.
How many women have picked up a magazine on women's "health"? Don't they just piss you off in the long run? They become a nagging mother in-law pointing out all the things you aren't doing right and how far you are from being beautiful in the eyes of some skin salesman. So why do we keep picking them up? There's no easier way to ruin your mood! Bashing your mind or body or even life for pete's sake is a guarantee for the ugly itchy sweater to come out. Thumb through a mag and you'll see every body part that looks better than yours. Let me introduce you to Photoshop. Keep doing that... you'll be a hateful, miserable troll. You know I'm right. I also know that hearing things like "what's important is what's on the inside" or "you're beautiful inside and out" makes anyone who hears those phrases want to physically harm the other person. Those phrases are so passive- aggressive and so transparent, and even if they are true, they are as helpful as Donald Trump giving advice on hairstyles. The problem isn't that there are beautiful models (HELLO! THEY GET THE TITLE OF MODEL FOR A REASON). The problem is that, as women, we don't see our own beauty and most likely we don't really know what makes us feel beautiful. I've learned to stop waiting for compliments to validate...well anything really, including my looks. It's rare that we a) believe someone else's compliment anyway, because we tell ourselves that our mirror tells the real truth and b) even if we do believe the compliment we'll tell ourselves it was just because we're having a good hair day or it doesn't count because it was someone we see as less attractive than our self. Wow, we are miserable trolls. Time to knock that shit off. Let's get real for a half second. There is at least one thing about yourself that you know is your best asset. I really like my eyes. They tend to change colors depending on what I wear, and when I've seen them in pictures I've never scolded myself for not holding my eyes in so I didn't look fat. If there isn't one single thing you like about yourself, then stop reading this, sit quietly and say to yourself over and over until the tears flow "I am worthy".
If you have grown up feeling as if you always fell short of someone else's expectations, or maybe they were your own expectations, you won't find peace within yourself until you forgive yourself for letting those feelings hurt you. We all have this sort of monkey on our back. And I can tell you first hand that grabbing that monkey by the tail and swinging it's nappy ass into hell is the best thing you can do for your self-esteem. Sit there and imagine all the nasty, flea infested thoughts that monkey caused and visualize it falling into the flames of hell where all those negative beliefs burn up, right along with the monkey. If you aren't into animal cruelty, then make it a little black back pack.
When you claim your worthiness, you begin to cherish treating yourself well. You start learning what you need and deserve to have, and one day it will hit you. You don't find a thing you love, you'll find a person. She's waiting in the mirror for you to see her.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)