leslieism

If I run more stairs maybe someone will love me…

Holy shit!  Did I, Leslie McCue,  actually think this thought!?  Yep.  And although my bad knee was throbbing, I pushed forward, or more accurately,  upward. I ran harder and faster.  Skipping steps, my burning legs started to feel wobbly. I got that jelly feeling that makes me laugh a little because it’s funny when you feel like you may not be able to hold yourself up…at any minute your legs could buckle and you’re going down…hard…always makes me a little giggly.
Okay back on topic… so my knee starts to throb and I tell myself I should probably head home.  But then, it occurs to me,  if I run more stairs maybe someone will love me.

This is the point where, “Bitch I’m a Boss”, or maybe it was, “I’m a Boss, bitch”, started singing through my ear buds.  Almost like God was talking to me.  Just kidding.  But God is a Boss, bitch.  Anyhow, this song is playing and I’m getting mad.  And then saying out loud, “Fuck you to every guy that has ever made a woman feel less than”!  (Did I mention I was running stairs at a church?) Now, we all make mistakes and I understand that, but, if you haven’t tried to right the wrong of verbally, mentally, emotionally, and/or physically abusing a woman…
Fuck You.
And if you’re currently, verbally, mentally, emotionally, and/or physically abusing a woman…
Fuck You.

I come across as super tough, but like someone said when they blasted me on Facebook a long time ago, I’m “a very insecure woman”.   That being said, I’m the epitome of an oxymoron.   I don’t care what other people think about me and yet at the very same time I’m incredibly insecure.

My insecurities stem from verbal and emotional abuse that happened eons ago(I’m not positive what consists of an “eon”, so I’ll just clarify by saying,  “a lot of years” ago). I have done a shit ton(I recently learned this is an actual unit of measurement) of work on myself to reverse my damaged self-esteem. However, try as I might (to be a Super Hero), I’m only human.  And as a human,  I feel pain, and I hear the painful words that have made me feel less than.  The phrase that I hear in my head most often, “No one will ever love you, they’ll only want to fuck you”.  I’m a big believer in the belief that we manifest our thoughts.  Therefore, I’m a big believer in the belief that I play a large role in my inability to let a guy in…or if by some crazy chance I do let him in…my inability to keep him .  I’ve been able to “prove” to myself that I’m the opposite of all the characteristics I was told I didn’t have, ie:(I should have just said “for example” because I don’t actually even know how to use “ie” in a sentence) I am intelligent,  kind, courageous,  a good mom, I have endless capabilities, etc.

You know what?  One time, I actually had a guy send me an article titled, “The top 10 Traits for the Perfect Girlfriend”.  He thought I fit all those traits.  But looking back,  he broke up with me like a week later… not gonna lie, kinda sent some mixed messages there… honestly I’m still confused.  Maybe he meant to send it to his other girlfriend?  Maybe I was supposed to get the article titled, “Top 10 Reasons I’m Breaking Up With You”…oh my gosh, can you imagine trying to fix that one? The other girlfiend is all crying and he’s all, “No babe it was just a joke!”… lol In all honesty,  I don’t need an article to tell me what a great catch I am.  I know. Usually.  Or I have nights like this where I question things like, maybe it’s just about looks.  And if that’s the case, I feel like I’m fucked. I’m ashamed to say that my deepest insecurities have become about my looks, my body. I feel so shallow,  but it’s the truth.  On the plus side, it’s kind of a small triumph, because at least now I don’t think I’m dumb as well.  Thinking I was not intelligent was a huge obstacle for me to overcome.  So really we should just focus on that gain and not the fact that I’m a shallow bitch.  Oh my gawd, I feel like one of the women on one of the trillion reality shows I refuse to watch. But I’m just speaking the truth,  my truth.  I also hope that by sharing this truth, maybe I can now let it go.  I’ve already decided that if I can’t find a man deeply appreciative of me, for my character traits, then I’d rather be alone.  I now decide, the same goes for my looks.  I feel like this decision means my insecurities are losing power over me?  I feel like sharing my vulnerability is me winning.  I like winning.

I wrote this tonight because I know of women currently facing similar situations and I hope it helps some…knowing they are not alone.

I did not write this for compliments on my looks.  I’m asking you to please not comment on this post….unless you want to tell me something other than a compliment.  I’ll take your criticism, your own stories…anything, I just don’t want anyone to try and make me feel better by telling me I’m pretty or something.  As of right now, I don’t care anyways.  There is way more too me than what I look like, and I absolutely love that I believe it.  And I absolutely love that I know someone will love me when the time is right.  Time to manifest this Boss, bitch (I don’t even know what that means,  but it sounds so cool).

My life is literally falling apart because I can’t figure out how to hook up my WiFi modem and router thingy. Obviously I’m exaggerating. Lack of Internet connection is only a minor contribution to my unraveling life. And really, it’s not even the lack of Internet, it’s the fakn cables that make the Internet happen.  It’s always the fakn cable wires that do me in!  Why???  Well, I guess because they make me feel helpless…and sweaty, yeah, I get real sweaty when I’m confused and frustrated.  You should see me do math… I wear sweat bands…and drink Gatorade.  Have you ever known someone that needs electrolytes to do math? Yeah and by, “do math”, I mean, stare at numbers and doodle. Seriously, what am I,  a flippin’ scientist?  Everyone knows that you literally have to be a Rocket Scientist to do math.

So, here I am, all sweaty, and I’ve got life perched on my shoulder like a Parrot, squawking,  “POLLY WANTS AN EFFING CRACKER! “, and now I feel like a failure because I’ve got no crackers. No crackers…can’t “do math”…not a Rocket Scientist…apartment is a mess…forgot how to cook…don’t own a home…everything I own is breaking…don’t have my Masters…my baby is starting middle school…I don’t know how to deal with preteen hormones…I don’t know how to make up the absence of her father…I can barely pay my bills…I keep getting older…I have issues with trust…I’m afraid that the love I dream of is nothing more than a dream…I fear (insert pretty much anything)…I feel like I’m failing as a mother.

And yet, I keep my head held (mostly) high and tell myself: I have Saltines in the pantry…2+2=4…No, but I am a Vocational Skills Rehabilitation Counselor, and that sounds pretty cool too…I started cleaning yesterday…I’m literate and can read recipes…owning a home by next summer is realistically feasible…things break, at least they’re just things…if I want my Masters I can and will…my childcare worries are over…they have library books on puberty…I’ve been doing the best I can and that’s all I can continue to do…bills are just bills, you can’t squeeze blood from a cow to make 50 cents into a Benjamin, or something like that…older=wiser and let’s be honest, sexier… trust issues mean vulnerability issues and I’m way too courageous for that nonsense…well, dream love is better than a nightmare…I do fear everything all the time, but I act like I don’t so much, that even I forget I’m afraid…if I don’t quit on my kid, then it’s impossible for me to be a failure as a mother.

Yep, I keep it together, hold back tears and emotions like a Boss. I tell myself all the shit I would say to a friend, if they were experiencing similar feelings.

Then I have to deal with cable wires…and I melt to the floor like I’ve done a million times, (maybe closer to six)(not six million, just six)(I told you I’m not a Rocket Scientist, get over it)… six sounds about right. Once a year for the six years I’ve lived in this apartment. And really, if I think about it,  having a cable wire induced meltdown once a year is nothing compared to the daily (not cable wire induced) meltdowns I had the six years prior.

Ahhh as I reread all that I’ve just written, I realize that my blogs haven’t changed much over the last few years….there’s always something,  a rough patch to trek through.  But you know what?  That’s life.  Life is one rough patch after another.  But you get to choose if you trek alone,  pick berries on the way, laugh when you get tangled in a sticker bush, find creative ways to travel, make paths for the people behind you, and make your own path lead to happiness.

Ironically, my path to happiness, may or may not have led to a small ravine behind my apartments…where I may or may not have accidentally thrown the meltdown inducing cable wires.  I may or may not feel happier. Okay, I may.