30 Days of Truth

30 Days of Truth, Day 2

settle

Something you love about yourself.

I love that I refuse to settle for less than I want, need and deserve. Finally.

Going through a breakup during the last month of my pregnancy and the subsequent battle that followed, changed me irrevocably. I think in the early days of our relationship falling apart, I was exhausted, still gardening an acre and overdue with an 8 1/2 pound baby. He hadn’t called once over the winter and the distance had grown between us while we fought about parenting philosophy and vaccines via text message. I was uncomfortable, hot and irritated by everything. Most of all: his lack of effort.

We went from crazy in love, to always at odds and completely disconnected. We both realized that we didn’t really know each other at all, and that we weren’t really excited about the facts on the ground. I’d quit smoking and he hadn’t. The smell of his cigars drove me nuts. I broke up with him and figured he’d take it seriously, quit for good and beg me to change my mind.

Not quite.

He accepted my decision & began dating, and we went to war over the baby. It was a bad time for all of us and I’m relieved every single day that it’s not like it used to be.

Most of all, I’m thankful every day that we didn’t settle for each other.

It’s been wonderfully hard and terrifying at times, but I didn’t walk through all those fires or slay all those damn dragons, to sit on the couch next to an unhappy stranger and watch my life trudge by.

I did not survive, just to settle.

Neither of us had survived unhappy relationships to land in the unhappily ever after that our relationship had become. I will accept the blame for the breakup if I’m simultaneously credited with the second chance at happiness that it provided.

I love that I had the strength to walk away for all of us; regardless of the fallout, and that I have learned to make my happiness as much a priority as anyone else’s.Finally.

It’s only taken 40 years.

compromise

30 Days of Truth

30 days of truth, revisited. Day 1.

Because why not?

I did the 30 days of truth blog series exactly 5 years ago, and decided I’d do them again to clear out the cobwebs and hopefully to see a little personal growth.

Prepare to be less aroused, more annoyed and maybe… just maybe… a little proud of me.

I strive to be.

Day 1. Something you hate about yourself.

I don’t HATE anything… so let me start right there. I have plenty I’d like & need to change, but the beauty of approaching the big 4-0, is that I’ve learned to love myself in all my perfect imperfection.

I am repulsed at some of my choices, and ashamed that I felt so badly about myself for so long. I hate that it reflects so clearly in the repugnant men I allowed to occupy my time. I hate that I invited, encouraged and even glorified the bad behavior from those same bottom feeders. I hate that I had such little self respect, that I believed I was worth so little and readily accepted so much less than I deserved. I hate that I thought I needed a man to love me, in order to be happy. I could not have been more wrong.

But the thing I hate most about myself, is that I lose sleep over the things I cannot change, nightly.

I come from a long line of insomniac worry-warts and frankly, the worst times in my life were the times I wasn’t worrying enough… so I’ll consider my constant lack of sleep as good sign.

worry

30 Days of Truth

30 Days of Truth… FINALLY… Day 30!

Day 30 – Write a letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Ohhhh Jenni….

You sweet misunderstood girl.

I love your strength. I love that you’re learning to be fearless. I love most of all that you keep on apologizing, even when you aren’t sorry.

I love that you’ve learned to trust… and that you finally know if you’re not there for every single second? Everyone will survive. Or they won’t. Either way. You’ve learned to accept that you can’t be everything to everyone.

I love your body… imperfections and all. I love that you are finally learning to use it like you should, instead of how you think other people expect you to.

I love your mind, and how you find a way when it doesn’t seem there is one out of the mess you’ve landed in. I love your sass… your ass… and the way you smile through the hell of your own bad choices and the mistakes you intentionally make.

I love your mistakes… because they benefit everyone who loves you. I love the lessons, and the way you justify each one. They’re all worth it. They’re all valuable.

I love the bad boys you love. Even if they’re all unworthy or unavailable. I love that you don’t discriminate between them. I love that you don’t limit yourself to the bad boy you love best.

I love the life you’re building, and the life you’ve lived thus far. I love love love that you don’t react out of fear, but out of hope. I love that you’re finally brave enough to accept defeat as a legitimate option. At the same time? I love that nobody can tell you it’s impossible. You have the most amazing will and a sparkling personality.

I love you….and I love embracing the ability to fly a big fuck YOU at anyone who disapproves.

Because?

You’ve arrived, my lovely self. You’ve finally gotten a handle on your inability to say no, your inability to laugh through tears and your bone crushing ideals.

You’ve let go. You’ve accepted what you cannot change…. and it’s made you a better woman, in spite of the assholes you’re forever tempted by.

What’s not to love?

It’s all too easy to accept someone else’s judgement of you.

Instead? You embrace your fabulousness. You’re learning to love yourself. You’re learning from your mistakes and you consistently do your best to make better choices in your next rodeo. It’s only teaching you to grip the bull harder with your delightfully chubby thighs. You can only learn from the hardest lessons.

Don’t avoid them, embrace them.

So you’re a little adventurous… so you fuck up a lot. So you want what you can’t have.

It could be worse….

You could be boring, jealous, scared or pathetic….

and I’d rather see you die trying than watch you give up or settle for mediocrity.

30 Days of Truth

30 Days of Truth, Day 29

Day 29  – Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.

Uck. This 30 Days of truth thing is thankfully almost over… and admittedly I’ve put off the last few because they struck a little too close to home.

If I could change one thing about myself it would be my appetite for mean men. Definitely. Wouldn’t we all?

Put two identical men in front of me and I’ll pick the asshole every time. Blindfolded even. Give me a nice guy that returns phone calls, sends flowers and is honest and faithful… and I’ll go straight out of my mind.

A jerk is so much more…. hmmm… dangerous? Reckless? Enticing. If he makes me wonder where he is, lies to me, cheats on me, etc… I can’t do enough to please him. I should have a doormat tattooed on my forehead. Seriously.

It’s totally and completely ridiculous, and as a grown woman? A habit I sincerely need to break.

It’s tragic and pathetic to see a confident woman flail miserably with a douche bag for a boyfriend or husband. Truly tragic. We all have a gorgeous friend who wastes her brilliance on a bad man, and I will be the first person to tell her to cut her losses, remind her how wonderful she is and will her to love herself as much as everyone worthy of her love & devotion does.

I just don’t take my own advice. Tragic and mortifying, all rolled into one lovely little disaster.

Browsing blogs last night I found the best advice I’ve seen in AGES.

“Women who chase men only catch the slow ones”

No more chasing, no more assholes… and no more ignoring my own advice. How’s that for a worthy New Years Resolution?

30 Days of Truth, Children, Whine/Rant

30 Days of Truth, Day 28

Day 28 – What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?

Aside from shoot myself in the face?

All joking aside, I’m only half kidding. Don’t get me wrong, I love my babies. Love them with my whole soul. I’m one of those old fashioned die-hard breastfeeding, cloth diapering super moms. I cross my t’s and dot my i’s when it comes to being a mom.

But…

I’m in the home stretch. I gave my twenties to being a mommy. I gave my perfect body to my adorable son at 18. He took it and destroyed it a little… Ouch.

24 hours of natural childbirth and a million stretch marks guarantee me a merit badge somewhere…. and he was completely worth every single painful second.

But….

I’ve worked my ass off to reclaim it and although the tummy tuck eludes me… I have amazing kids and a wonderful life to show for it. I have no regrets…

But…

If I peed on a stick tomorrow and it turned pink or blue? I’d really regret being a non-gun-toting mama.

Because I’d want a 12 gauge to the face.