On this day celebrating the person I am, a woman, I feel isolated and alone.
I want to break all of the rules that have been set on women. I want to have sex with whomever I want, I want to stay home or work or go to school. I want to travel abroad and meet people and eat whatever I want whenever I want.
We say that we are free to do whatever we want to do. We are women, we are not slaves but deep down inside we know the truth.
Our bodies are not our own. We are not able to eat whatever we want because we will gain weight. We can have kids and work but do not expect time off or compensation for it. We can be CEO and presidents of companies but you are going to have to work twice as hard as a man and get paid less. This is not acceptable we say.
We are women we are not slaves yet we are.
We are slaves to the system, to society. We are accountable for every word and morsel that flows in and out of over mouths. This should not be but it is. We are too fat. We are too skinny, too tall or short. We make too much money for a man to want us. Why do we believe these lies, you ask.
Because the most important person we are slaves to is ourselves. We believe these lies because we have been telling them to ourselves for years.
We do not want to believe them; yet we do.
Today is International Women’s Day. A day to celebrate the you God made; the talents and gifts He gave you.
I believe that I was created for a time, purpose and place. I believe that I can make a difference big or small. I believe that every women in the world deserves to have an education, to be able to read books of her choice and to speak her mind. I believe that women are strong and capable.
I believe I am strong and capable.
Help my unbelief.
I am not a slave.
For the life of me, I cannot figure out why I get out of sorts on Wednesdays. I feel really sad, mad, angry and I really do not want to do anything at all. I especially do not want to be around people. Growing up, Wednesdays were a busy day during the school year. I would go to school during the day, come home around 4 pm, do homework, eat dinner, do the dishes or whatever chores needed to be done and then go to church. Church started at 7 pm and would get out around 830. We would then go home and had to be in bed by 9 pm. Seriously this makes me crazy just thinking about it. Now I have school and work and I am still wacky on Wednesdays. I was so happy the day that I decided that Wednesday night church was not for me.
Today, I just couldn’t get it together. First of all, I got up early to do work. I was fine until about 11 am and I got so tired, I crashed. I ended up being late for work by 4 minutes. Then work is really slow today and the reason I have to go into the center was not the reason I was working or the program I was working on. So I left about four hours into the shift. I did come home and complete my Geology lecture this week and ate a tone of food. It wasn’t all bad food it was just food. I have two papers that are due on Tuesday and I have not started either.
This semester is not going as well as I would have liked. I am graduating this semester but the future is up in the air. Will I get into the MAT program? Who knows. Will I continue working at my current job? I hope not. My fear is that I have gone back to school and accumulated all this debt for nothing. I fear that I will not be able to earn the money that I should be able to with the degrees I have. I want to be able to earn a living so i do not have to live paycheck to paycheck. Yes, i am dreaming but do not disturb me. Well time to go work a spike and go to bed. I have to work at 545 am tomorrow. Why do I kill my self this way. The song that comes to mind is, “Killing me softly” school and work, work and school.
Growing up, my family would travel by car up and down the east coast. We mostly went on vacation to see family, as my mom is one of seven. We would also take our pop-up camper. That thing went every where we did and then some. On a particular vacation our car broke down and we had to leave the pop-up in WVA at my aunts house. (car story to come later). A few weeks later the car was fixed and my dad wanted to go and get the pop-up from WVA. My mom could not go for one reason or another, so they asked me to go with my dad. Being the panic child I was I was not so sure I wanted to go on a road trip with just me and my dad, so cue grandma. Grandma said that she would come with us and so the three of us set off to W Va.
The trip down was uneventful however the trip back became a little interesting. There is this hill in W Va, yes I know W VA is full of hills and mountains but this particular one called Town Hill always caused us problems with the camper and the car. We reached Town Hill which if I am not mistaken is like 10 miles of going straight up. (I might be over reacting you can look it up) Any way we were about half way up and BAM, water is spill out of our hood, bells and whistles are going off and I thought OH CRAP its happeneing again. My dad pulls over to the side of the road, pops the hood to see what happened. It turns out a hose burst. Knowing that this car was a pain, my dad kept spare parts in the trunk, however, we were out of hoses that day. So, my dad needed a hose to fix the car so we could be on our way. I start to panic but my grandma says do not worry. She gets out of the car pulls out her hanky and starts waving it at cars and truckers. I thought, oh my word we are going to die but alas we did not and a trucker pulled over to help us. My dad asked him if he could give him a lift to the next exit with a parts store and my dad could fix the hose. So my dad left with the truck and that left me and my grandma on the side of the road.
Here is where the story gets real interesting. You have to understand how my grandma handled life. She handled life with fun and humor and laughter. So as we were standing on the side of the road waiting, she picked up a blade of grass and asked me if I knew how to make is whistle? I said no, and she said left me show you. Here we are on the side of the road making whistling noises with grass. Then she said that she was hungry so she got out apples from our cooler. Well my grandma did have many teeth and we did not have a knife so she peeled the apple with her teeth and spit out the peel. I was totally grossed out. First apples are not my favorite and second, spitting is just disgusting. However, being the adventurous person I am with my grandma, I too got and apple and starting spitting it out. She then said to me. “eeew thats gross, I thought you did not like to spit”. I did not like to spit but I figured if grandma could do it and not throw up, then so could I. We sat on the side of the roads playing made up games, counting cars and trucks while waiting for dad to come back.
My grandma has been gone for seven years now and I will never forget her laughter, her sense of adventure or creativity. She never let anything or anyone get her down. Christmas has never been the same for me as it means something different. I remember Christmas each year with her and I will always treasure these memories forever.
Today while at my therapist office, I kindly asked this question, “Am I a mature 42-year-old?” His answer was No; not just any no either, he said NO you are not mature for a 42 year old. You are more like a 32-year-old or maybe a 22-year-old. He said you are stuck and this is why you are here. Staring at him, trying not to burst out into tears, I just said, Oh.
I asked the question I know this. However, the answer he gave me was not the answer I was ready to hear even though I really knew the answer. I am not mature for 42 and I am stuck. I am in college with 18-22 year old. I have a job where I beg people for money and get rewarded for doing so. I am single never married never kiss a boy or girl for that matter and never had sex with any one; like I said my therapist is right, I am stuck.
I work really hard so others can be proud of me. I work really hard to make the grade, get the money, play by the rules and yet here I am 42 years old and stuck. I will graduate next May with a second BA this time in English. I am applying to graduate school. I will be a successful teacher someday. Someday soon I will be unstuck and I will be free to be me not matter what age that might be.
Growing up Sunday was a special day for me; long but special. I loved being in the church and singing and worshiping with others. As I grew older Sundays began to change for me. They were not as special to me anymore. I saw church more as a burden of having to do instead a be. In 2011 while living in Philadelphia, I was introduced to a church in Florida that live streamed their services. They had online ministers to chat with you, a group chat if you wanted to connected or comment about what the pastor was saying throughout the sermon. I fell in love with this church. I found a place that I could be me. No expectations required. I have been attending online ever since. I really love it a lot.
Unfortunately this semester and my new job created a lot of chaos in my life so I was not able to log on every Sunday. Today, was my first Sunday back in months. What an awesome way to start the day with the body of Christ and listening to a the word preached. I love hearing the word of God. I want to be used by God in many ways. I am not worthy to do this. I make lots of mistakes. I struggle a lot. However, I do know this, God loves me no matter what. God loves me, he always has and always will. He loves everyone. No matter who you are God loves us. Of course love for each of us means something different but God knows what we need even before we do. Life is a marathon not a sprint. I try and remind myself of this all the time. There is no need to rush through life. It will all come together in due time. I pray that this Sunday you will be blessed and just enjoy the day.
This is your very first post. Click the Edit link to modify or delete it, or start a new post. If you like, use this post to tell readers why you started this blog and what you plan to do with it.
I have been wanting to start a new blog for a long time but either I talk myself out of it or I just do not have the time to do it. I found out more about the need to blog as I continue to learn about my mental illness. I also found other people who also struggle and write about it and other things and I am like, wait hey I can do this too. I may not be as smart as them or creative but I think I can make this work. So here I am, on a Saturday afternoon on summer break writing my first semi-professional, I am not a teenager blog. I thought I did not count in the world of blogging because I do not have a husband. I do not have kids nor do I have a pet of any kind. I do go to college and work fulltime, so I am busy and I read a lot so I guess this counts, right? I am not sure how I will use this space yet but I will use it. I have been keeping things inside for way to long. I think it is time to let some of it out. I need to let go of the breath I have been holding in for so many years and realize that life is too short to keep things inside. It is time for me to learn how to live in freedom. I hope this blog will help and maybe if anyone else reads it, it will help them too.