Keeping Up

Last week I did a budget challenge on my vegan blog. I lived on five dollars a day, or thirty five dollars for seven days. I did cheat on the sixth day, so I did more like a six and a half day challenge. Anyway, I found myself having an emotional reaction towards the end. I found it hard to really explain anything that I might have learned, because living on a shoestring budget like that has been my whole life. There have been times, many times in my life where I would have given my right arm for thirty five dollars to buy food. I've gone through times when I can't afford Top Ramen. Like when your entire paycheck goes towards rent. Like every single penny. I've been embarrassed at the checkout line so many times by having to take stuff off because I don't have enough money that I've gotten pretty good at doing the math as I shop. I have always envied those people I see just tossing whatever they grab into their cart, without even looking at the cost. Then there's me, checking every penny per pound to make sure I'm getting the best deal. Not because I want to, but because I have to. I've lived most, if not all of my adult life with serious food envy. I think other bloggers who have done similar "below the line" challenges might have had more of an eye opening experience because it is not how they usually, if ever live. I learned long ago that my broke is very different from other people's broke. When I say I'm broke, I have no money, not even a penny like at all.
For me, the challenge week started out strong. I was coming up with some creative meals, I had found a good deal on some produce so I was having some fresh fruit and veg in my day, life was great. But towards the end I was out of anything fresh, and all of my meals were becoming a depressing shade of beige. I started feeling super panic-y. I guess maybe it was what they call a trigger? I don't know but it was just very surprising it was for me to wrap up the challenge with words. I thought I was going to have all of these really inspiring things to say, letting people know that you can eat foods other than Top Ramen when You're on a budget. Especially a vegan budget. There are so many misconceptions that eating vegan is super expensive, and it can't be done unless you're rich. I feel like in the end I failed because I just couldn't break it down the way I wanted. In the end, I just felt so relieved it was over, and I just wanted to move on.
I'm also somewhat embarrassed to admit how below the line I live. I guess we all want to keep up with the Joneses in one way or another.

Life, Interrupted

Getting to know yourself can be very hard. I only recently realized that I've walked through most of my life having no idea who I really am. I swore to myself at some point in my late teens that I would never be like my birth mom. I fought so hard to be different than her. She was a free spirited hippie type, so I went through any phase other than that. Because we need to label people and put them in boxes, I would hear people now and then refer to me as a hippie "type" and it would just drive me bonkers. But, no matter what ridiculous outfit, make-up and hairstyle I was sporting, I guess my true self  shone through to everyone but me.
When I got adopted, it was just a fact in my new home that my birth mother was the enemy. Everything she did was wrong, and there wasn't room for any other type of discussion. As a matter of fact, after about a month or so, it became obvious to me that it was best for everyone if she just wasn't brought up. After awhile, I fell into the routine. It's not that I don't ever think about my birth family, I always do, it's just that somehow in my mind my life as a child and teen were almost erased, or pushed way to the back of my mind. It was easy to do that living in Seattle, because I didn't have any family to be around, so I never really had to find my place, or question who I really am. I could just be.
I've realized I am very much like my birth mom for awhile, but this is the first time I'm honoring that. I can't live the rest of my life running from who I am, and punishing myself for it. Through meditation and really trying to work on myself, and forgive myself I'm forgiving my mom too. And I'm seeing things differently. Enough time has passed, I'm not the wounded bird I was, so I can look at things much more objectively now. I can see her pain, her hurt. There are a million sayings out there about hurt people hurting people and so on and so forth, so I believe that she had some pain that led to her making some bad life choices. After some of my own choices, I can hardly judge.
I understand that my adoptive parents thought they were doing the right thing by kind of shutting the door on my past, but looking back I think it really confused an already very confused girl. I wish I would have been able to work some of this out more, I wish I could have felt like it was okay to be me.
It is hard for me to not feel some real anger and frustration towards my adoptive parents. I need to come up with another moniker for them, because truth be told I don't think of them in any kind of parental, or really even familial way. But, I do feel like some mistakes were made, and it's easy for them because they have their families. I don't. There's no whoopsie, let's go back in time and make a better decision.
I can't help but feel a little bit robbed.

Dead Woman Walking

Sometimes being a pedestrian can be downright terrifying. Before texting and Emailing while driving was a thing it was scary enough. But now, there are some days where I feel lie I might die. I feel so unimportant and almost invisible. Living in a city like Seattle, or any large city it's going to be worse of course, because in fairness to all of you who love to text and drive, I also fear most drivers in general. Traffic is always congested, and people are in a rush to make that light, or get that turn in. I used to drive as well so I understand dealing with traffic, and the impatience and all of that, and I would probably lose my shit driving in Seattle. But at the same time, in a city like Seattle there are tons of people who walk, ride bikes, skateboards, unicycles, roller blade, you name it, we exist here. So you would think that cars would be a little used to looking around for anyone on foot.
I was walking to Target today, and traffic was a mess, and it was just so intimidating. When cars do stop to let you walk, you can sense the irritation, and you can sense that they wish you would hurry up already.
There is one stretch of my walk to Target where I walk by two parking lots, one belongs to a Starbucks, gas station combo, and right next to it is a McDonalds. To probably no one's surprise, the McDonalds driveway is the scariest. People are the worst, both pulling in and out. It only strengthens what I think of people who eat there.
I miss walks in the country, and the stone ages when we only had landlines.

Keeping My Cool

My birth mom had a temper. I have a temper. Patience was not something that I was shown or taught as a child. For most of my life, I just thought it was out of my control. I just figured people who are patient and don't lose their shit were born that way, it was easy for them. And I'm sure there are a lot of people who just have that in their nature. But I've learned recently that you can control your temper, you don't have to lose it! I think meditation is really helping me with this. I know I've written about this before, and i don't mean to sound like a broken record, but it's just so exciting. I have had two times in the last few days where something happened that really pushed my buttons, and both times it's like someone took over for me, and I just closed my eyes, and told myself that getting pissed and losing it will serve no purpose. Now, I've always known that. But in the past I didn't have the control to not go ahead and get pissed anyway. And these two times I was able to just breathe through it, and the funny thing is both issues got solved, instead of nothing happening. I'm so relieved, because I've never liked that feeling of losing your temper. My face gets flushed, I feel like I can hardly breathe, and I feel like a scary person. I remember it was very scary seeing my mom lose he temper, and I still find it scar when I'm around anyone who's losing it.
More and more I'm really seeing such a positive impact on my life since I've started doing guided meditation. I've even started attempting silent meditation which honestly is still a struggle. But I feel like someday I'll get there. I hate to be corny, but I have to be patient with myself.

All About That Sass

  This is not a YouTube channel that I subscribe to, and I have never watched any of her other videos, but I somehow stumbled across this video the other day, and decided to give it a watch, and I'm so glad I did. I have always greatly admired people who wear what they want, and just don't care. I'm not talking about the insincere, pseudo confidence that you see all over social media, I'm talking about the real people who proudly rock sandlals with socks, and anyone who wears something that society says isn't right for their body type. If that's what you want to do. I guess that's what I'm saying, if you are into the current trend of crop tops and don't have a six pack, wear one anyway. I've never understood why some people get so worked up, and feel like it's their duty to opine on what other people are wearing. I've known people who will just get so worked up, to the point where it almost ruins their whole day! Over something a stranger is wearing. People are so weird. I find myself strangely drawn to these type of body positive videos, even as I'm working on improving my own body. I admire and hope to absorb some of the sass and confidence!

Roadblocks

As I've been looking back on my life, and trying to deal with the past and all of that, I've come to realize that I have a self sabotaging streak. I can think of several very specific times where I really stood in my own way of achieving something more than serving food or drinks, and I'm sure there are a hundred million that have slipped my mind.
I was nervous last week because I really got into a funk, and I really wanted to drown and smoke away my sorrows. I mean, I really didn't want to, but I wanted to relieve some of the emotional pressure I was feeling. But, the thing is this is the longest time I've gone IN MY LIFE of really being healthy, and taking care of myself. It's like I'm getting to know myself in a way. My whole life I've been way to busy running away from who I really am, and it's caused a lot of stress and chaos. And stress and chaos get in the way of knowing yourself. I've spent more years than I care to admit trying to be someone or something I'm not. I feel like if I continue, it's going to lead to something really good, like seeing the world through your new glasses that you've needed for years. And I don't want to get in my own way.
One of my biggest fears is becoming one of those super grumpy, angry, bitter people you see who NEVER have anything good to say, and they spit in the eye of happiness. Different times I've worked in bars you see a lot of that in the older bartenders who are pushing sixty, and have been dealing with drunk people for the last thirty plus years of their life. I just have always swore to myself that I would not let myself ever get that miserable, no matter how many whatever I go through.
So this is me putting it in print, and out there that I am going to continue being healthy, continue choosing the path of striving for happiness. I've come too far, and I don't want to go back. I don't desire that life.
I was reading this article on self sabotage if anyone else struggles, or has struggled with this is interested.

Fallout Shelter

We've all heard the expression "you can't go home again" I learned that for me, this expression is very true. And what makes it sting so much more is that throughout my years living in Seattle the first time, any time I talked to my adoptive mom on the phone, her answer to anything I said or was going through was that I "needed to come home" Seriously, I don't believe I had one conversation over the span of  twelve years that didn't include the sentence"you need to come home" I never considered Erie PA. home. I wasn't born there, and even when I was first adopted they lived in Ohio, which is the state I lived in. I was born in Ohio, and although as a child my birth mom and I moved around a lot, it was all in Ohio, save for a short time in Colorado. So, already by saying I needed to come home, my mind doesn't really know where to go.
I knew it wasn't the right choice for me to move to Erie. To this day it seems like a bad dream that I did, or that someone else took over my mind and made me make that choice. I moved back with my now ex boyfriend. As soon as we arrived, my adoptive parents kind of tried to take over our lives and they started kind of acting like no years had passed, that I was still the same age and person as when I moved away. I was still bulimic, severely depressed, and hadn't yet started using alcohol as a crutch. I was also much more sheltered, scared, confused, and clueless than when I moved back. I have made many, many changes to the point where I barely remember who I used to be. They never once asked me anything about my life in Seattle. Keep in mind that for the twelve plus years I lived here I talked to them very rarely. Sometimes a year or more would go by with no communication.
The bottom line is that they never wanted me to move to Seattle. They felt that it was smarter for me to move somewhere closer "to home" From the time I got off the Greyhound bus it was cold shoulder and guilt. I can't get over that. I faced some really hard times in Seattle, some really dark days that to be honest I don't know how I got through. I feel as though I spent at least ten years of my life crying for help, and unless I was willing to move home, it fell on deaf ears. A few times I tried to bring up how I felt, and to say they got defensive and went on the attack is putting it mildly. She is a therapist and he is a lawyer, so unfortunately they really know how to a) emotionally manipulate and b) win an argument. I loathe confrontation, so it's just not a good scene. The narrative is that they saved me, my birth mom is shit and they are my "guardian angels" or something like that. And Guardian Angels can do no wrong you know. Keep in mind, I know that I am no angel, and I certainly have flaw after flaw, and when I was younger I was much more than a mess. But my issue is that I admit and understand that I have flaws, and have made mistakes. But it is impossible for me to have a conversation with people who won't also own up to making some mistakes along the way.
I feel so much better. Last week was very hard for me emotionally, and I was really having a hard time fighting off the urge to drown my sorrows. It's that pressure I feel when I have too many emotions floating around, and no outlet. I just wanted some relief, no matter how temporary. I can't afford therapy, and to be honest I have zero trust in therapists anyway for a plethora of reasons, and I just don't have anyone who I can talk to as I work my way through this maze of feelings I've been  holding in for so long. I have to go through this process to heal, and I know understand that there are no shortcuts. But you have to have a safe place, shelter from the storm. I guess this blog has become my shelter.

Nobody Buts Baby in a Box

Earlier today I was standing in line waiting to buy some booch, and I happened to be behind a fireman. So, another cashier opened up another line, and came over to invite me to his line. Since I already had my stuff on the belt, I told the guy behind me to go ahead. So, the lady behind him said to me"you just want to be standing behind a cute fireman" I didn't know what to say, so I just laughed. And she just kept staring at me. Then, the fireman turned around and looked at me with a smile that said "you're busted" It was so embarrassing! And I was not overly excited about the dude in front of me. I don't lose my shit over men in uniforms, or any group of men. I resent people assuming these things just because I'm a woman. I've never appreciated being lumped in a box just because I'm a woman, or because I'm a vegan, or any other reason. And it felt like such a personal little tease, like something you would say to a good friend, or relative, someone that you know, not a stranger.
This is a perfect example of one of the reasons I loved drinking. I always had a snappy answer to make someone feel like a fool for trying to assume to know something about me based on one small part of me. Now, socially awkward me just clams up, giggles nervously, and thinks of all the zingers well after the fact, like on the bus ride home. Oh beer, you served me well.

Here I Am

Today is a very hard day for me. My mind is such a mixed bag of emotions, and they're all moving around so fast I feel like I can't get control over myself. I've had this feeling of dread all week to be honest, I finally figured it out on Wednesday or Thursday, the feeling of doom is because Sunday is Mother's Day. I've done my best to fight the blues, but I have failed miserably. This week was a beautiful sunny week here, and even the sun didn't help me. And the sun almost always makes me feel better.
I feel an ache, and a sadness that I've come to accept will always be there. It's more intense this year than it ever has been, and I think the reason why is that I can no longer lie to myself. I lived far away from my adoptive parents for many years, so I created this fantasy in my head that somehow became my reality in where everything was perfect with my adoptive parents, I made the right decision, and a perfect, loving family relationship was waiting for me. Over the years my adoptive parents continually reminded me that I was making everything a mess because I didn't want to live in the shitty city they live in, and I was the one who chose to move so far away. Over the years I stopped talking to them whenever possible because that was their answer to every single problem- "move home" Excuse me, but where exactly is my home? They didn't understand, and either did I at the time that I had no home base. I didn't consider their home, or them to be my safety net, or my heart, or whatever else people call home. As a matter of fact, my adoptive mom's answer to any and all problems are these two things, "move home" and "find Jesus" Once I finally was living in their home city, her answer to everything became "find Jesus"
I wish I could go back in time and put so much more thought into that huge, life altering decision. Or, at least go back in time and pull my head out of my arse and tell myself to stop drinking for one second and get a grip, and figure some stuff out.
The worst thing is not having anyone to talk about this with. That's why I randomly pop up and type this stuff here, it's the only outlet I have. People get super uncomfortable talking about weird family dynamics, and it frustrates me when someone tries to tell me how I should feel, or what I should feel towards my adoptive family or birth family. It's really easy to tell someone how to feel when you aren't, have never, and probably never will be in their shoes.
The important thing to me right now is that I've made it through yet another day that brings out the emotions, and normally would be a day where I would drink them away. And I'm not doing that. Yesterday I wanted to buy beer and cigarettes so badly. I haven't wanted to drink and smoke away my feelings that much for awhile. But, I didn't, and here I am, feeling pretty bad, but I'm feeling the feelings, and trying to not judge them, or myself. And, here I am blogging about the mess that's in my head today!

False Cheer

There is a bus driver that drives the route that I take most often. She always has stuffed animals, or flowers, or other stuff all over the dash of the bus, and sometimes there is a little sign above the fare sign saying "welcome" or "have a good day" or some other welcoming thing. And everyday it's something different, she takes this extra step very serious. She probably gets to work at least twenty minutes early to set up her bus. The strange thing about it is that I've ridden her bus enough times to say with absolute certainty that she is a mean person! She yells at people with the microphone if they do anything wrong, and if homeless people are sitting in the bus shelters, she will stop the bus and yell at them, and threaten to call the police. Even on rainy days, when there aren't even any people waiting for the bus to begin with, it isn't like they're bothering anyone.
A lot of bus drivers will help someone out if they don't have money, or don't have all of the fare. This lady not only says no, but she completely berates them. She can't just say no, and leave it at that.
I always get so annoyed when I have to ride the bus when she's driving. I've known people like that in my life. People that are really nasty and mean, but for some reason they're always the people volunteering to be Sunday school teachers, or to read to senior citizens, or something like that. And they are always the first to tell you to smile, or ask you what you're in such a grumpy mood for.
I feel that way about a lot of Christians I've known over the years. My adoptive mom watches some woman on some Christian channel, and she is the angriest, meanest looking person I've ever seen, and she's always yelling. I asked "D" one time why that lady is so pissed, and "D" looked at me like I was a monster. She explained that this woman has "beat the odds" and "fought anger" and has come out on the winning side of happy. Okay. The scary thing is apparently in the Christian world this woman has made big bucks by schilling books, DVDs, and seminars on how to get over your anger!
And I find that often time people who are trying to force cheer, or whatever down your throat are often actually resentful of people who actually are happy, or actually have no anger in their heart. They'll often act suspicious of people who are genuinely cheerful, because it's been impossible for them to achieve.
Be wary of these types of people. I know that in my past I've been intimidated and really bothered by dealing with this type of toxic person. I have a quote on a Post-It note in my bathroom reminding me that "no one can steal your joy without your permission"

Woman in the Mirror

I've been wanting to read this book since it came out a few months ago, and yesterday I finally bought it. It's a memoir, and the author talks about her journey from being overweight and living with low self esteem, and all of the self abuse that can come with that, to losing the weight the healthy way, and learning to love herself. I've heard the author, Jasmin Singer on a few different podcasts, and I just knew I needed to read this book. She is so honest about her journey, and I really admire that.
In the first chapter, she's talking about all of the ways she avoided the mirror, or different ways she would place mirrors as to really not look at herself. I never really realized it, but that is exactly what I did while I was drinking and putting on the pounds, and just in general looking a mess. I also remember when I would have to buy clothes, and I would go up a size, I always had some kind of reason in my mind. I would tell myself that "this brand runs small", or the classic" I'm bloated" Anything to avoid the cold hard truth that my self abuse was affecting my health, and my appearance which pretty much go hand in hand. It's funny, when I was deep in the throes of my eating disorder, I couldn't stop looking in the mirror and obsessing over how hideous I was. So, I think it's safe to say that I've never really had a healthy relationship with a mirror. I think I was able to live in denial over my weight gain also because when I was doing my hardest drinking, I ate very little. Beer was my focus. So, somehow I just lived in denial that I was drinking more calories in a day than I ever could eat. But, every once in awhile i would accidentally get a glimpse of myself, and for a second there was no denial. How did I let myself get like this? Unfortunately, it just caused me to want to drink more. I wish I could go back in time and hug the old me.
I was reading this book today while waiting for the bus, and I realized that this needs to be a book I read only at home. It isn't a safe book to read in public, because it really stirs things for me, in a good way. This is the kind of book that you cry and laugh and every emotion in between right along with the author. I hope this book can inspire me to continue to heal, and also continue to figure out how to keep sharing my story, because I think that when we share our story, we help other people soooo much more than a million years of therapy.