leslieism

Tonight I messaged a friend…a kindred spirit, and I disencumbered the prevailing malady of my soul.  I knew what I was getting myself into, and yet I proceeded to expel the calamities of my heart.  She is one of the most comforting people you’ll ever meet…and also honest.  I knew the honesty was gonna come before the words that feel like a hug… but I wasn’t mentally prepared for her to go all, “Oprah meets Barbra Walters and they have a baby and this is what it says”, on me.

The short version of her response:  1.  “Don’t kill the messenger”.  (The messenger being the person, place, or thing that is causing my pain.)  2.  Listen to the message or to quote “Get the fucking message !  You are creating a particular pattern what is it, what is the message?”.  3. Quote again,  “Feel it to heal it?  What is it you are truly feeling?  Unworthy?  Unlovable?  When is the first time you remember feeling that?  Usually when you were a child…and last, wrap it in compassion…love that child, love yourself…xoxo”.  (By short version of her response, I meant, this is basically exactly what she said.)

M’kay, if you have any hardships going on in your life right now, and you can relate to any of Oprah and Barbara’s offspring’s words, you’re probably tearing up a little.  Or if you’re me, you’re sobbing.  I am sitting here, mascara running down my face…segments of crumpled up toilet paper, doused by my snot, tears, and make-up…are strewn about me….my kitten is playing with my refuse and purring like I just gave him free reign in a catnip field…it’s disgusting, but gawd he’s cute.

So yeah.  I’m sobbing.  I’m a child remembering the first time I ever felt unworthy and unlovable…and not gonna lie, it’s a super unpleasant sufferance.  Not gonna lie again, I just had to look “sufferance” up in the dictionary, and I am not entirely sure I used it correctly.  I’ll let you decide.

Sufferance:noun
1.  passive permission resulting from lack of interference; tolerance, especially of something wrong or illegal (usually preceded by on or by).
2.  capacity to endure pain, hardship, etc.; endurance.
3.  Archaic. suffering; misery.
4. Archaic. patient endurance.

Moving on…

She got deep real quick like and caught me off guard.  I’ve been trying to be the exact opposite of deep for awhile now, and whoa, as I’m typing now, I just realized the exact opposite of deep…is shallow…(that’s so deep).

Shallow.  Not much below the surface.  Not the dictionary definition, but in simple person terms it’s, spot on..on point..nailed it.

I’ve been emotionally shallow.  Not letting people in and using humor to build a brick mason style wall around me.  Not exactly superficial shallow though, well now, that’s kind of a lie.  Over the last year, I’ve taken more selfies then I care to admit.  But I don’t really need to admit it, if you’re Facebook friends with me, oooh you know.  When did that happen?  When did I become the girl that needs to take a ton of pictures of herself..by herself…and plaster them around seeking validation?  Attention?  Love??

When did I stop loving myself?!   I didn’t see it happening and I’m disturbed, addled (big word for confused)(unless you already knew that word, in which case…wth, do you read dictionaries as bedtime stories?), heartbroken…I’m heartbroken, and I thought it was from other people, but in reality, I’ve broken my own heart.

I’m gonna wrap this up because I’m mentally and emotionally exhausted…this is a short blog, but I really just needed to get her words out there…I’m sure I am not the only one who needed this gentle ( and by gentle, she did actually use the F-word, but with a shit ton of love) reminder.  And because of her I will be grateful for the “messenger”, and not ignore it’s (fucking) message.  I’m broken, it’s telling me.  But when I wrap my inner child in compassion, my inner child tells me, “Hey, you remember that time, when you were like 6 years old, and you punched a kid for messing with your little brother?” And then I’m like, “Yeah, I remember…what about it?”  And then my inner child is like, “Squirrel!”…and then I’m like, “Lol, I got this.  I’m broken, but I can fix me.  Squirrel!”.

No but seriously, my inner child needed a hug tonight…from me.  She needed to hear, from me, that I forgive her. (Shoooot, I stopped crying awhile ago and here comes the waterfall on my face again.)  She needed me to tell her she is worthy.  She needed me to tell her she is smart.  She needed me to tell her she’s going to grow up and be a good mom and she will always do her best for her daughter, even though at times she will feel like a failure, she’s not, because even though she hates herself for not being able to give her daughter a “normal” life that includes a dog and a house and a dad, a full and complete family, and other stupid “normal” things, she will always give her a ridiculous amount of love…and that love will make up for that whole not having a dog thing.

So.  If I was Freud, I’d probably say something about a man’s genitals, but if I was Jung, I’d probably say that that gynormous run-on sentence is why I’m “broken”.  I mentioned two paragraphs ago that I was gonna wrap this up…and now I am for real.  I don’t have the energy to put the rest of my realization into words, and honestly, I don’t want to share anyways.  This is something I need to work on and it’s not imperative that I clarify to others.  However, everything else I’ve disclosed tonight I believe can be useful for someone out there…and if you take anything from my midnight, tear drenched, ramblings, please take this…. YOU ARE WORTHY.  YOU ARE LOVABLE.