A Radical Change in First Impressons

I’ve written several drafts on this subject to date but have yet found a way to voice my heart on the matter. My thoughts flit from one aspect to another assumption. I imagine the reactions and possible judgment I am told to expect. But more and more, my heart feels ready to slowly step forward.

For years now I’ve admired from afar anyone with the commitment to do what I’m about to do. As as often as a voice inside me would whisper a longing for a journey I didn’t understand, I timidly backed away from any foothill of such radical change.

But now, as I attempt to step more in tune with Source and Earth, I feel an undeniable pull toward something that seems silly to consider a “calling”. But I know it is a calling, and it’s one I’m no longer able nor want to ignore.

I’m going to dreadlock my hair. And the emotions that follow such a choice are nearly overwhelming. The fear of commitment, the excitement and anticipation and the anxiety over admitting this to loved ones create a haze around my thoughts.

Dreadlocks are a commitment to me. The more I research and learn the more I am beginning to understand exactly why I’m being pulled to this, and committing to the arduous journey of patience and acceptance that lie ahead of me is intimidating. My personality does not normally afford me this much time to think things through. When something appeals to me, I jump in head first and swim in the new choice, learning about it as I go. I’m not really much of a preparer, I guess you could say. And although hesitation doesn’t exactly fit my current mode, I feel this is bigger and deeper than most other decisions and deserves more careful traversing.

The excitement and anticipation; well that’s more closely to the real me trying to hold on until the urge to jump feels right. When I see another person with locks, I want so badly to say “Me too!”. When I walk into a store or ride my bike or talk politics, I want people to see that radical side of my personality. I love the idea of dreadlocks breaking down stereotypes. Because really, how many Libertarian-Republicans have dreadlocks? I want dreadlocks to show one more aspect of my hidden soul and force people to look beyond the outer shell to see the Person inside. I want to be a part of opening a person’s eyes and heart, helping others see their judgment and opening minds to the possibility of living outside the box.

And then comes the anxiety. I’m told to expect some negative reactions, from strangers on the street to loved ones who disagree. Justin is fully behind this journey. He understands where my heart is and fully supports this choice. He’s even looking forward to it and is sweet enough to say he thinks it’ll be sexy. But my real fear lies with my family members or friends. I do have great people in my life and am sure most will support me (after a season of initial reaction). But the worry is still there. Most of our family gets great pleasure over relentlessly teasing a person. It’s always in good fun and usually their way of showing support. But my choice to do this feels deeper than superficial mocking will allow and that is something I hope they’ll understand.

This is something I will do. I’ve decided to wait for my bangs to grow longer and in the meantime am preparing for what I may encounter in this atypical choice. After spending some time meditating on this I feel as though Source has begun to show me more of the purpose behind it. “Patience” keeps reverberating through my ears, as does the release of judgment. But as to what will actually surface, only time will tell.

Coco and The Past

I mentioned in the last blog that I would expand on what Z has been processing, so here goes:

Z has been expressing himself through his stuffed dog, Coco, quite a bit lately. I feel a tad like a shrink analyzing what he means when he says Coco is feeling something or Coco needs something. But at the same time, he seems to be really growing emotionally because of this.

I hate to label the kid, and I try not to but it’s not always easy. Z has had a pessimistic streak for some time now. I can almost pinpoint when it started. Mid-year of pre-kindergarten (which was really kindergarten in the private school world). We assumed it was his teacher – she was a real bitch, to be honest with you. And not just to him. She seemed to single out a few boys. But that was back when we didn’t listen to our hearts and instead followed the same route everyone else did. But that bad year, just rolled over into the next. And Z progressively got sadder and sadder.

I mean, who can blame him? Let me summarize his school experience: comparisons to other kids who did things the way the teacher liked, nearly every afternoon spent staring at the Principal’s wall, art teachers who told him he did it wrong (grrrr), teachers who told him he was bad, phrases taped to his desk to remind him how happy he should be, constant measuring and scrutiny, a total devaluing of his sense of self, punishments from the school and sadly from us for his lack of conformity, lots of fighting, crying, and arguing, hours of homework and low grades for classwork missed while in the office (which, BTW a bad grade to a 1st grader is the same as writing “Dumbass” across the top of his worksheet – a completely counterproductive move that makes him live up to what the grade/label says he is), and a complete loss of self-worth, confidence and sense of purpose or love of life.

I’m not exaggerating. I *fucking* hate that time of our lives.

Although we’ve come so far, Z’s pessimism is the only thing that’s lingered. And let me tell you, it’s not easy to not let it pull me down but also realize there isn’t much I can really do. And the past few weeks he seems to be going through a new phase of deschooling.

In comes Coco, the stuffed dog. If Z is upset, it’s Coco who complains. If Z is feeling happy, it’s Coco who is doted on or talked about lovingly. Coco has become a very integral part of our lives. He rides in my basket on my bike, he gets just as many kisses as Z gets, and he must be consulted on any family decisions. Anytime Z has a choice to make, it’s Coco who chooses. Since I noticed him doing this and have participated with Z in this, he seems to be opening up a bit more which has him opening up about past experiences.

Out of the blue, he’ll mention something that happened in school. He expresses how angry it made him feel or how he felt left out or how hurt he was or sometimes he’ll talk about it like it just surprises him – sort of like, he can’t imagine that being normal now. (Whew! That’s a good thing!)

The other day I lay down beside him and apologized for the whole experience. I told him how much it hurts me to think of all the things I could have done differently and how I’m sad that I listened to someone else tell me what was best for him, instead of listening to him.

At first he seemed very uncomfortable with this, saying I didn’t need to apologize and almost trying to shake it off. But after a moment, he started going into what he disliked about the school, mentioning that damn thing they taped on his desk to tell him he should be happy (I think it said “I am blessed” or something equally asinine and dismissive of his true feelings – just one more way to tell him he was wrong and they were right and oh boy, should he be thankful for what they do for him).

Wow. I’m starting to feel really angry as I write and reminisce. I guess seeing Z emote all of this has stirred it up in me as well.

Well, Z’s emotions have been really pessimistic lately and I’m trying to accept my limited ability in solving this. This is really something he has to process on his own but I’m trying to find ways to support him in the meantime. That’s the tough part. Especially when he goes out of his way to find the negative.

So I’ve been trying some things: mentioning how much I like his smile (it really is such a great smile), getting imaginative and “magical” (waving my magic wand or spraying things like the “Good Dream Spray” on his pillow; I need to make a “Good Day Spray”!), finding ways for him to feel empowered (his using “dangerous” things like the iron or daydreaming with him through situations that he is nervous about), sympathizing with him and then allowing him ‘private time’ to be alone with his thoughts.

So far those things seem to help but it’s still touch and go. Here’s what I’m thinking: As Z is seeing that things are different now, seeing that his home is his safe zone to vent or express himself, I think he is allowing himself to peal back those protective layers, allowing old feelings to resurface now that he is in a place where they can be safely dealt with.

The past few weeks he has been expressing his anger with some…um, new words. And he saw the difference in how I took it (his emotions). We were able to work through the anger, then discuss the use of the words. He saw he wasn’t being told to not feel a certain way or express himself a certain way. So maybe now that he knows it’s safe to let go, he’s really letting it all go.

And boy has it been a flood. I can only hope this is the worst and once he lives out his anger and frustration, things will start flowing peacefully along again. It’s really a challenge to not get dragged down but not give him less than what he needs either. I can’t walk away or ignore his emotions but I can’t get too wrapped up in them with him. Some moments are better than others obviously. It will be interesting as I watch this unfold more. (And since I’ve now posted a novella, I’ll update more about this as it does.)

Connection, Perfection and Planting Flowers

Do you ever get the antsy feeling that you should be somewhere? I’m not thinking of the time I forgot about my tax appointment or skipped my client’s massage. I mean the in-general feeling that the life you are currently living is not your own. That you and your life should be somewhere else. Another place or time or life. Would it sound crazy to say I miss it? I miss a life I have yet to own?

This is how I’m feeling these days. As if I’m walking around in a life not my own. I’ve hijacked the bundled cells of another soul and am sitting rather uncomfortably in the tight squeeze. How did I end up in these cramped quarters? IwantoutIwantoutIwantout!

I feel this deep propensity toward a life I seem unable to create. A life of simplicity, of beauty, of nature and art and music and connection and and and. But it’s more than arduous to create this picture perfect life of beauty while surrounded by dreary, dry, dead domain. This city! My hometown is sucking the life out of me. Its lack of options too often locks us inside and creates a dependency on an electronic lifestyle – a version of living vicariously through another person’s blog. The television, the video games, the computers…they all feel like static in my hair; annoying, frustrating and nearly impossible to figure out how to manage.

I want less stuff. More movement and flow. Less noise. More harmonious dancing with the Earth. More connection to Spirit with less distraction. More G-d and less Ego.

We text, we email, we instant message, we blog, we chat on our cells while we run our errands. But we rarely sit down and really link hearts with someone else. The pool of connection has gotten broad and vast, but shallow. I want the Laura Ingalls Wilder version of life. Simple, peaceful and (can I wear this word out?) connected. Instead I feel like the diver who’s air line has been severed.

:sigh:

Justin and I recently had an opportunity to escape. An offer to live in the middle of nowhere and take care of a ranch. The entire scenario was made for us. Z even fell in love with the idea. But we are strapped down to a home we can’t sell in a city we dislike and can’t escape just yet. We allowed our dream life to pass us by. It wasn’t all sad. I simply knew it wasn’t time yet. I want so deeply to be where I’m meant to end up but I know I’m not meant to end up there yet.

Z and I tried something new today. We “powered down” as we call it, for most of the day. We agreed on 2pm as the first hour we could turn on anything electronic and instead spent the morning reading, creating with clay and playing games. And (thankfully) we both really enjoyed it. We connected. Not just with each other, but with our home and ourselves. Z had about an hour of laying on the cushions on the floor, deep in private thought. It was a step in the right direction, one that we will attempt to implement regularly.

Another moment of connection happened yesterday at our unschoolers park day. The babes and kids and tweens running in the grass and climbing trees; their voices hollering across the breeze. The barefoot moms crocheting, sharing and laughing in the shade with one eye on the tribe around us. I just sat back and reveled in the perfection. We have a lot of those moments together, us Life Learners. We’ve all toyed with the idea of a commune, a way to surround ourselves with as many moments of beauty as possible with as few distractions as necessary. But weather is something we can’t seem to agree on so a location has yet to be ascertained. :]

Oooh, I wish to greedily run in the right direction, leaving the path behind and just get to where I’m meant to end up. But you can’t skip the road needed to travel to a destination. Half the “getting there” relies on what you learn along the way. So I’m trudging the route and trying to smell as many flowers along the side as possible. And planting a few myself for those in step behind me.

I’m getting there. I’m still practicing the accepting of that, but at least I’m not jumping too far ahead of myself.

Early Morning Perfection

Today is my third day of Retirement and I continue contemplating its existence, waiting for it to sink in. All my clients – friends – who I may or may not see again. All the excitement to come, the endless list of To-Do’s to do, the search for a hobby or cause to wrap myself inside of.

Maybe I should feel as though I’m losing a bit of myself, an identity that I’ve built up for nearly a decade. The Massage Therapist. But I don’t feel that way, or at least not yet. I feel….

I feel…

I’m really not sure. I know I’ve felt ready for this transition and am happy to be where I am. But maybe now, without a schedule to stay mindful of or a title to maintain, I think I feel a bit directionless. As if I was walking down a path and all the sudden looked down to find it gone. Okay, but where do I go from here?

I’m so accustomed to the habits I’ve accumulated over the years, keeping up a professional appearance, driving this beast of a vehicle. Now I get to wear my wedding rings every day. I can grow my nails out if I so choose. I could even dye my hair blue to match my son. I’m no longer bound by my obligations but the freedom that brings is a bit…cavernous. I have no one to answer to, just a giant vacuous echo around me.

‘Tis an oddity, this newfound prerogative. I’m so habituated in my self-created confines and now being faced with a wide open terrain, I’m a bit hesitant to have free-run of the field. I don’t even feel ready to peer out the gate.

I think I’ll just have a sit inside the coop for now and enjoy the breeze coming through. Maybe I’ll feeling like venturing out later.

I quit!

It’s been a week since the big decision was made and I have yet to blog about it?? Sup wit dat yo?

Anywho!

In a moment of pure chaotic self-pity and loathsomeness (is that a word?) I nearly broke down to Justin over the phone last weekend. I was on my way to see a client, and as much as I cherish this client (and all my clients) I just wasn’t feeling it. Being a massage therapist is rewarding, working for oneself even more so. I make good money, have obtained some of the best clients and I love to see them. I just don’t love giving them massages anymore.

When I first started giving massage, it took several years to not feel physically drained after a client. I was literally giving them everything I could because I truly wanted them to feel better. A client would come in with a sore hip and I would walk out with it, leaving them blissfully divine and wanting to reschedule. Perhaps I took ontheir pain as a mechanism to make a living but I knew it wasn’t good for me in the long run. It took me awhile to be able to take their pain but not own their pain. I could take it from them and drop it, not holding onto it but letting it go. For years I was good.

But I’m not now. I rarely take on their physical pain but I often give them all my energy and walk away feeling drained and mentally and spiritually exhausted. Justin wonders why it is hard for me to work just a few days a week. It’s because I have to mentally prepare myself for a day prior and regenerate myself for a day after. So I always feel pulled away from Z and Justin and am never fully there because of this constant state of mental and emotional preparation and regeneration.

Anyway, I broke down, called Justin, crying and bitching and moaning and saying I just couldn’t continue to do this and really just looking for him to agree with me. And he did!

His actual idea was to quit within a week, work on the details needed to adjust to one income and that’s that. From there our plan would be to try to have more babies and live happily ever after.

Well, when faced with the option to quit right then and there, I of course couldn’t. So we agreed on a month. One month to see all my clients, give them some notice, give me some time to make arrangements and come March 1st, I’m done. Seemed all good and dandy.

Until I actually faced the reality of having to tell my clients. I really care for my clients and telling them sionara is not easy. So I chickened out. I told them I was going to be “taking some time off” to pursue some personal things and then we’d be playing it by ear. I gave myself an out. Freakin’ chicken sh*t I am sometimes. I am amazed at how much effort I put into making other people happy instead of myself and my family. I was actually afraid to tell them I may not see them again. Heck, I was afraid to tell them I may not see them for a few months.

And now with just under a month to go, I so wish I had followed Justin’s advice and only given it a week. Now that they all know it may be awhile until they see me again, I’m jammed packed with appointments and don’t have the time or energy to figure out the whole one income thing.

Okay, so what was suppose to be a happy and excited post about how I’m finally going to be able to focus on what matters most to me, I’ve turned this into a long, droning downer about how ridiculous I think I am. What is with that? Knock it off woman!

I am happy and although this happiness brings a challenge, I am looking forward to the end result. The ability to focus on what matters. No more work, more fun with Z, more time for Justin and more babies!

Here comes the sun…

Do-do-do-do. Or how about “The sun’ll come out…tomorrow!”

Can you tell I miss the sun? That warm, radiant star in all its burning glory. It’s cold and windy and just dreary. And the lacking brilliance messes with my sleep schedule. The sun is my only (external) alarm clock and with its late appearance in the winter, I hate getting out of bed.

Yes, I know there are some of you out there that are suffering through snow and sleet and below zero temperatures and laughing at my high of 49, daring me to venture to your place for a day. And all I have to say to you, is why the hell haven’t you moved? That’s insanity! Give me 115 in the July shade anyday over this miserable stuff. Below 80 and I get a chill. Below 60 and I’m parked near a heater.I see all these blog posts of little boys running through the snow and I’m just amazed. Winter time for us desert folk means indoor time. Computer time. Movie time. Anything but outside time.

We don’t exactly live in an environment conducive of outdoor activity. Too hot or too cold. No greenery, no water where cool things grow. I see these pictures of places with forests and waterfalls just out the back door and I wistfully imagine living in such a place. Then I realize that their winter’s suck and I change my mind.

Warning: Cynicism Ahead

What have we done to ourselves?

It has dawned on me, as I sat reading the side of the cracker box, just how inorganic our lives have become. The incessant belief that what is not natural is best has not failed to astound me. We have disconnected ourselves from nature, from life, from love and then wonder indignantly why it bites at us whenever we reach our hand to it. We have become strangers to our own innate attributes. We have arrogantly assumed we know better than our native instincts; instincts we now cannot even hear over the blast of commercialism or blaring demands of conformity.

And it’s all around us. Our food touts labels such as “Made with real juice” or “Preservative Free” as if that’s some type of novelty to make us “Ooh” and “Aah”. Or my personal favorite, “Tastes Like Real Cheese” while we slowly forget what real cheese tastes like. We’ve bought into nourishment created in a laboratory, genetically modified to allow for winter availability. And we proudly state we are “moving forward” with such technological advancements. But how many stop to ask the million dollar question, moving forward into what…and leaving what behind?

But by far the best example of all of our excitement in recreating what has already been perfected in nature: Let’s gather up the next generation while they are still young and impressionable, pigeon hole them into submission, crush their creativity and free-thinking tendencies and call it education. Sure, we’ll recreate socialization with a 20 minute recess limiting them to their approved actions, play area and authorized companions. We’ll divide up the fluidity of their days into sections, calling them English, Math or Science, making them foreign and uncomfortable. And we’ll make it compulsory so that millions of citizens do not know they have a constitutional right to another choice.

We will take life and all that is living, peeling back its outer layers piece by piece, stripping it bare of its natural qualities, dress it up with a few frightening statistics, place it within approved boundaries, add a bow and a splash of colorful advertising, sell it as “real life” and pat ourselves on the back as we marvel at our ingenuity. Oh, but we’ll be sure to round it out by taking what was once pure and unadulterated and labeling them as “barbaric”, “radical”, “unrefined”, “absurd”, “extreme” or “impossible”.

We’ve tried to reinvent the wheel but in the end all our efforts have shown was something square and incapable of turning on its axis. And yet we just keep jostling ourselves down the same road, insisting the bumps can be overcome. We carry this ignorant training on to adulthood and every area of our lives. We comply with the absurdity of labels and groups in our adult world, vote based on how a person looks, what religion or gender or race they are, and allow those that taught us what to think to continue do our thinking for us.

We’re grown up versions of second graders – it’s no wonder why so many think that school teaches our children how to cope in “the real world”. Our “real world” has become a heart-breaking and absurd example of freedom and justification. What we call free is no more than diluted visions of grandeur. We’re directed down paths of conformity, taught that violence is bad but condone violence to teach a lesson, spout verses of love while our hearts hide hatred. We blindly follow the words of leaders, any leaders instead of the voice of our hearts. We ignore or commit to martyrdom our modern day prophets, ignorant to their true message.

That’s the true purpose of our modern institutionalized age. To indoctrinate the values and principles of the powers that be, to instruct them on how to follow the masses and condemn true freedom. Ignore your heart, ignore your instinct and listen to man up front. Don’t ask too many questions, don’t worry your pretty little head about such big things. Just follow along and we’ll take care of you.

But 20, 30, 50, 100 years down the road, we’ll wonder why we’ve become uncaring, disconnected, disease-riddled, and stagnant. We’ll wonder why our technological advancements have slowed to a trickle and our family fabric has been torn to shreds. But will we ever connect it to the wedge we now put between ourselves and our children, ourselves and our bodies and spirits, ourselves and our neighbors, ourselves and the natural, perfectly timed and beautiful ebb and flow of life and growth?

I for one will no longer hold my nose to vote, will not stick my head in the sand, will not sit by idly as insanity marches on. The ridiculous bandwagon rambles on down the road of least resistance but I for one have jumped off to explore a path less approved, a bit “radical” and certain to take our lives in a whole new direction.

Call it unschooling, call it Libertarianism, call it heretics…I call it love.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.”

What a year!

Feeling a bit relaxed today, I found myself clicking through through my some of my old poems and stumbled across this one written last New Year’s. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. 2007 has certainly unfolded itself in ways unimaginable but joyfully spectacular.
The last couple of months have been an odd blur. Not the usual face-paced movement of the sun that we all complain about as New Years rolls around. This feels different. Unexplainable. But then again I feel different. I am different. I’m no longer the overly-structured clean freak I once was. I have hobbies and aspirations that don’t hold a promise of making money. My house is even slightly unorganized (I think I just heard my mom gasp). I don’t care about arriving early for the event or making first impressions. And I find it fantastic that my child doesn’t follow orders!

Oh reading all that – especially the last one – just made me laugh. That’s another change. I laugh more. I also watch TV and spend less time in front of my computer (did you know I use to spend no less than 12 hours a day on the computer?!). And I have a new haircut that makes me look more like I feel – my client put it best when she said “It doesn’t make you look young; you are young. It makes you look…spunky.” Lookie here! I’m spunky!
I think 2007 is my favorite year. Only to be topped by 2008. I use to hate resolutions. They seemed arbitrary and unfulfilling if done simply because the calendar changes. But now I see it not as something I “should do”, but more of a way to move my life forward.
Last year I “gave up” soda. This year I’m focusing on gaining, not giving up. Knowledge (learning to play harmonica, sew, knit), experience (trying new things, going new places) and forgetting all the rules (but one). Yes, even the rules I’ve set for myself.
I have lived within my chosen parameters for so long, constantly reminding myself what I want to do and not do. Say/eat/do this, don’t say/eat/do that. I realized that I often worry so much about doing things “right” that I fail to do much at all. I try to be the perfect parent, instead of just being there and having fun. I try to eat the perfect food, instead of just listening to my body and :gasp: occasionally indulging in total trash (or pork). Almost every decision I’ve made recently has been earmarked with too much damn forethought.
So as odd as it sounds, I’m going to stop thinking so much. Oh, I’m sure I’ll still gonna live up to my “Organic Sister” name, and I’m sure I’ll still always be improving myself. But it just won’t be my primary focus. My primary focus is just to live and have fun and throw convention out the window and knock societal obligations on its butt. Like Miranda said, I’m going to widen my box a bit. I don’t want to live inside an unschooling label, a health nut label, a neurotic label. I just wanna live.
Oh and that “one rule” that I mentioned up there: Love. That’s it. That is the only parameter I’m holding myself within. If it’s not loving or I don’t love it, I’m not doing it. It feels like another step into “letting go”. Sheesh, what more is there to let go of?

My relationship is over…

You think you know someone. You enter into a commitment under the assumption that it is forever and believing they feel the same way. You never imagined they would for one second betray you or not be there for you when you need it the most.

Sure there was that one time when he cracked under pressure, but who doesn’t make a mistake? And I accepted it as a mistake and continued to honor my commitment. I didn’t just throw our relationship aside for another one. Okay, I came close…talked to someone once to find out what our split would cost…but did I go through with it? NO! Because I upheld my end of the deal and never gave up on you! I wanted things to work out!

But this is the third “crack” in several months. And this one is so big! I just can’t believe it. You’ve given up on me? On what we had? Wasn’t I always there for you? Sure, maybe I didn’t keep things as shiny and new as I used to but we’ve been togther for awhile…I thought we were just comfortable with each other? Maybe I let things go….maybe it was my fault. But at least I didn’t just give up. I still appreciated you and what you did for me.

Please, friends and family, don’t think I didn’t try…I really did. But I can’t take it anymore, this is goodbye.

And so, dear windshield, I’m replacing you. In fact I’m calling Elite Auto Glass tomorrow and for $180, I’m starting over. :tear:

I’m Thankful….

So I was watching “So You Think You Can Dance”…I don’t know why but I always get sucked into the auditions but lose interest in the actual competition.

Anyway, there was a girl on there that was, well….unique. She had this red/orange/bleachy looking hair and a very eccentric attitude. Instantly I loved her. You could tell dance was her self-expression. And through the choreography, you could see her start to break down. She just couldn’t do it. They put her up on the chopping block because of it and asked her to redeem herself by dancing in her style to prove she could dance. And well, she went nutsy. Flailing, running, really indistinguishable.

But here’s what resignated with me: They called her crazy and she was thankful for that. She said she felt like she was losing herself in the choreography and admitted her craziness and even looked relieved when they cut her. (I was PMSing so I cried with her. It was great. )

And then I started thinking. Do I love me enough to lose a huge opportunity because it might make me a little more like the rest of the world?

For those that really know me…I’m crazy, obsessive, confrontational, passionate, a bit psychotic, an emotional wreck, eclectic…or at least I used to be and still am somewhere inside. But you know what? I love me. God made me the way I am. He gave me my passions, He gave me my individuality, He told me to stand out. And yet I find myself losing touch with me for who others think I should be.

So this is who I am, this is my “coming out”…

I am mismatched socks and funky layers and clashing patterns-even when I don’t dress it.
I am emotional and passionate.
I am a “Christian” with a different understanding than most will ever know or accept.
I am many negative attributes that occasionally do right.
I am hard to understand and feel no compulsion to explain.
I am spiritual and everchanging.
I enjoy wearing different hats.
I enjoy fitting into different boxes.
I enjoy all 458,698,328,658 of my personalities.
I cannot dance or sing but I still will.
I cannot make art or music but I feel it.
I am sensitive and intuitive.
I feel and see peoples spirits.
I hurt easily and take insignificance to heart.
I love and trust and smile at strangers.
I love and hate all things.
I thrive on exploration and growth.
I am a treehugging, health-nutting, one love hippie.
I care too much what others think and often don’t care at all.
I get depressed easily.
I can feel on top of the world or under your shoe in the same day.

I am crazy, multi-dimensional, ever-changing and you know what? I’m thankful.