This is going to be a big year for me. This already is a big year for me. Based on what’s already happening, being planned, being executed and all the surprises that I don’t know anything about yet.
I turned thirty and now all of a sudden I’m running on all cylinders. I know when I’m changing through a couple of ways –
#1) I get grumpier
#2) I get sleepier
#3) I have crazier dreams.
So all of those have been happening this month. At the beginning I thought it was because while I was in Coober Pedy I was never really at rest. Although I had an easy life there, there was something I didn’t trust about it and never just relaxed 100%.
Then a couple of weeks ago I started to feel ill. Which, at times, I still do. I get a little dizzy and have to do a double take because I can feel the world moving. It’s a little scary, not feeling healthy, but then I just let it pass because I never really get sick either. So then when I sleep, I have these incredibly intricate dreams about situations that free my soul and let it flourish.
I always worry that I am not like others. I worry that I am secretly darker or something embarrassing because it’s rare to find people who are willing to talk about it, at least as openly and as often as I would. On an average day I open my eyes for the first time and literally think nothing. Nothing comes into my head, no gratefulness for seeing another morning, no depression for seeing another morning. Just nothing.
Then, finally, something pops into my head about what I have on the agenda for the day. 9 out of 10 times it warrants a roll over and a slapping of the snooze button, because honestly who can be bothered to participate in the world some days?
I always get down about current events, the general over reaction or under reaction of the citizens of the world, or country depending on the issue. The fact that everyone seems wrapped up in their own little bubble of lies and complacencies. Or, even stranger, the ones that seem more at ease and at peace with themselves and the world around them. The ones who can be beacons of whole-hearted love and understanding or the ones so naive and oblivious to any sort of issue outside of their new iPhone 6 plus.
I am certainly envious of that sort of naivety or ability to detach. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me. I get antsy around people who are too content. I am not sure if that makes me the problem.
I had an interesting reaction to something so ridiculous, innocuous, impersonal and yet it hurt my feelings on a level that made both me and a friend uncomfortable. Unfortunately for my friend I was drunk, and staying at his house which means he got the brunt of my drunken flare of insecurity. I think I caught him off guard.
Then when I woke up the next day I was still a little down. So I started to think. Tearing the inside of my head apart as if it were my closet and I was looking for that perfect blouse, in order to figure out why this one little detail of an otherwise amazing story was pissing me the fuck off.
I still can’t pin point it. However, now I know a little bit more about it. It always comes down to a very simple formula for [me]. Boy crush + me = I turn into a crazy fucking lunatic. And there ALWAYS has to be a boy crush. Always. I fell flat on crushes this year so I just picked some. All were challenges.
I got one. Check. And even through the duration of that I had to question my motives. I strongly believe that I only pursue people, places and things if there is a very twisted challenge to be won.
Here’s a challenge for me – take my ass to the damn gym and eliptical this jiggly ass down a notch. But NOOOOOOOOOOO let’s tip toe around everything by doing every other thing except solving the root of my own problem. It always, always, always comes back to my weight.
I know I’ve said it before, and I’ve even said that once you pinpoint the root of the problem you’ll be set. So here’s my amendment to that. In my case, I have emotional issues which involve being able to healthily love and be loved. I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I can’t… yet.
SO I thought I would get to the root by opening my chakras and shit. (Which yes, obviously open your chakras, don’t bypass your chakras for god sake!) However sitting, meditating and telling myself that I’m OK and loveable at any weight is great and helpful and healthy and blah blah blah BUT I keep coming back to the same cycle – which is one little minute thing can happen and all unravels.
So now I see myself as a tree. A very strong, sexy tree (in case you were wondering) but right now with very little leaves. They do look very bright and colorful from afar, but overall my branches are a little empty. My trunk is strong and curvy, and if there were to be a butt part of the stump then that’s where it is the biggest. Then, beneath it all are my roots, which are, unfortunately dying. They are dried up and looking for water and some photosynthesis and shit but my damn leaves keep waiting for the groundsmen to come water, and groom me.
I don’t see the sun as a resource, I don’t know to let my leaves fly off with wind and to just let the ones that are ready to fall, fall. I don’t see that my roots are dying. Instead I just see them as something to be fixed and somehow someone will come along and help fix my problem. Someone will come. Someone will fix me.
WELL, this sexy tree can’t wait no more. I see that I was trying to fix my roots by bypassing the trunk, the branches and the leaves. If a vase chips you don’t say “oh the rim is chipped” you call that vase broken or damaged. Doesn’t matter how big or little the chip, the point is it is an entity that is looked at in whole and now that whole is damaged.(And somehow not whole)
So I tell myself I don’t need to lose weight to feel love, and I don’t, I know that. However to love myself I have to do things for myself and my weight has always, hands down been my biggest challenge. I never want to be a woman who advocates losing weight to feel better about oneself UNLESS that is the block in the road you’ve been trying to drive around for YEARS.
It’s that simple when it comes down to it. It’s always something and for me it’s I don’t take good enough care of myself and I let myself off the hook so I don’t put myself up against the wall, like how I felt so many times while growing up. I don’t like being put on the spot and having to explain myself. I like sneaking under the radar and hoping no one has any sort of expectations of me… yet while secretly hoping that someone sees me, recognizes me for the good I want to feel and be and do – and then someone better than me comes along to help me get up to the radar and let the light shine down on me….
But, that is fucking terrifying.
So here we go … 30 years in and now, finally, I’m tired of not being in love … with myself. Tired of having excuses, making jokes about the things I am bad at, knowing that I don’t want to make jokes about them – I want to NOT BE THEM. Who the fuck knows how all this will pan out. At the moment I have no idea what my next step is.
Once again, a blog that throws even me off guard.
I leave for Asia in 4 days. I’m not nearly as scared or nervous as I expected to be. Which had me worried, but again, it’s all connected to the changes I feel happening. I do feel a sense of letting go. The wind is blowing around my sexy tree. I’ve never wanted my leaves to fly away because I thought I needed them all, for safety and security. To hide what kind of shape my trunk was in, to distract from my roots.
Sexy tree is letting go of the leaves. Sexy tree is going to let the sun shine down on her just as she is. Sexy tree is going to enjoy being a sexy tree and is going to do things to make her feel only like a sexier, smarter, happier tree. Sexy tree needs to write a book too.
Ok, sexy tree, one thing at a time.
One thought on “Sexy Tree”
You’re too sexy for your shirt, too sexy for your tree, too sexy, too sexy.
You’re too sexy for the catwalk…start walking Sexy Tree.
I love you. I believe you have it all! Indulge yourself in the sun shining down on you, on sexier, smarter, happier YOU. And hydrate: WATER YOUR ROOTS. They’re rootin for you, too. ( in American slang)