When a man smiles at me, I want it to be genuine. I want to feel the warmth and kindness that smiles were meant to hold. I want to know that I matter – as a person – to another person.
Why, then, is it so often untrue? Illegitimate? A cardboard cutout of a smile, pasted on to lure a woman away from her virtue and self-respect? A silly fluff of a thing thrown out in advance of full eye contact to avoid further repartee? A mask attached with epoxy to permanently hide any of the real emotion flowing on one’s true visage?
What has happened to human interaction now that tech “facilitates?” Who are we anymore and how to we get back to being the humans we once were?
I miss those days.
I am not young, but neither am I so old that I stand alone in this feeling of stark impersonality.
It has been a year without a post – even longer without something I wrote myself.
I almost can’t believe it.
Life has been a topsy-turvy whirlwind for a year but I am finding my writing legs again and standing – though still wobbly.
Look forward to more posts soon. This blog is like an old friend.
And hopefully more friends will join me here. I look forward to sharing with you again.
See on Scoop.it – Self-esteem Simplified
Love yourself into health and a good life of your own. Love yourself into relationships that work for you and the other person. Love yourself into peace, happiness, joy, success, and contentment. Love yourself into all that you always wanted.
Melody Beatty’s message is so powerful. This excerpt is a potent slice of that
A lot of us have trouble accepting compliments. We’re worried that it will make us seem self-absorbed, or we just don’t believe that what the person is sayin…
I learned a bit about this concept first hand at Esalen: getting AND receiving compliments feels so amazing. It’s such a beautiful bath for the soul
See on www.youtube.com
She performed on the Voice and the song was a lovely salve (I am behind the airing times since I watch on hulu as time allows).
Still… such a great song – amazing message.
We wear a smile to hide that we’ve been hurt before
Keep our disasters in a suitcase by the door.
Y’know we’re only human …
Hiding our hurt and pain is like hiding our humanity really — denying that, lie everyone else in the world, we too have been beat up a bit.
A Motivation Monday that feels like a Philharmonic Friday — Let’s mix it up
A song comes on the radio and I am transported. In milliseconds, he sits here with me. His presence tangible. The heat of our interactions warms my skin anew.
It’s been years now. And yet my mind returns to him sometimes. With a strength and a passion that craves what we had. That demands his return.
Why do we return to our past loves?
Why do we drag them out of storage and rifle through the mental photo box?
And today, why do we spend an afternoon falling in love over old emails and sentiment long since abandoned?
Today is that day for me.
I was supposed to write about my birthday.
Ed Sheeran messed that up. Well, Ed and a trip to my office – to a fateful folder that holds our relationship – or what remains of it. It is the only tangible proof that he was real. That we were real.
He loved me then. I know he did.
And yet I move forward with a whisper of doubt, sometimes looking back longingly. Missing what was. Missing the fantasy that I had created about our life – the future that was never going to be.
I was well put-together before that stupid song came on. Before it coalesced with those few scraps I’d read this morning to cascade down my face in an outpouring of sadness.
So I return to the why. Why can’t I cast it aside? He has made a choice. His life moved in another direction – and he is welcome to that choice; I pray he finds happiness there. I genuinely hope that he is happy.
If my head is done, if my head can accept reality… If my head knows the truth, why can’t I get this chest-thumping, blood-pumping, organ on board?
When a relationship crumbles, why do we revisit it?
Do we go back to seek closure? Is that it? I just need him to tell me resoundingly to fuck off for good? I need to see that he isn’t better off without me so that I might feel redeemed?
Or maybe it’s a genuine missing of the goods parts of us. There is such nostalgia in the good parts – the way he stumbles over his words when he is tired and still I understand him – it’s cute. He’s cute and the two of us laughed so hard during those times. And does his disappearance from my life mean that those experiences must always bear the painful prick of missing? Must the smile always come with the sting at the back of my eyes?
Or maybe it’s the fear of not ever having that again. Will you ever trust like that again? Ever love so fully? Ever anticipate reconnection so excitedly? Ever again?
Or perhaps it’s the knowing that you can’t ever have it again – not as it was with that one person at that time in your lives – not as it was when you were the younger version of yourself and they were still the man you miss today. Surely, even if we met again, we both will have grown and changed. Maybe we are more calloused and less available – maybe he’s gained a little weight and gotten little greyer. He’s wiser, maybe – and less impetuous. And you weren’t a part of any of those changes.
Today is a sad day of missing and of nostalgia and instead of making it OK … instead of turning it into self-love … instead of making everything about happiness and hopefulness… today I wish to sit and experience these emotions. Specifically these melancholy aching ones. I’ll let the tears be my company today. Maybe next week I can talk about how cool this experience was and how it opened some door to self-esteem that I’d not seen before.
But today, the self-esteem message is simply accepting me exactly as I am right now. Handling myself with compassion. Seeing this tearful sad woman and accepting that she needs this day, these tears, this sadness and this pain.
I won’t Shhhh it away this time.
I’ll hold her while she cries.
Source for Photo is Pon and Zi’s Website
Veni Vidi Vici
My son and I are reading a book and the chapter that we will begin tomorrow is titled “Vini Vidi Vici.” It’s Latin for
I came. I saw. I conquered.
I love that phrase because it feels so powerful, even in its simplicity. To arrive at a place, survey it, and then to overcome it, defeat it … trounce it, as it were.
I want to read that chapter. When I read those words, I picture myself in standing ovation. “Bravo!” I say, smiling, “Bravo and good show!”
As I consider why it is so powerful a phrase, it brings to mind
See on Scoop.it – Self-esteem Simplified
Recently, I’ve started to see my daughters’ bodies changing. Not quite puberty yet, but a little rounder here, a little curvier there. Yep, it’s almost time to have “the talks” in my house. I’ve done my best to protect their body images.
I simply love Kate Winslet. her perception on body image and self acceptance is brilliant. In this article, one mother has a wonderful eye opening affirming conversation with her daughters… I say bravo for open loving authentic conversations between mothers and daughters
See on www.blogher.com
I love these five simple tips. Bravo for simplicity and joy. What should you carry with you? Check out the article and find out!