Saturday, 1 October 2016
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
The hate hurts
I left America 9 years ago. I was a single mother, hairdresser and considered myself a normal citizen. I had a shitty car due to my own credit mishaps, but I could afford to support my child, alone, with no parents and no child support. I put myself through college and made a career for myself through hard work. I was OK, yet I left for new adventure, and to run a bit from my past. There were no hard feelings, or any feelings much about "America." We adopted the first black president, and I was only witness to 1 racist remark about it. I was not yet participating in Facebook however, and Myspace was a less communicative political platform. America had some "hope" and leaving it where I had, I felt like we were all going to be OK.
I jumped off the plane to the Land of Magic. Kangaroos, G'day's and ocean abounded. It was a little land of bliss. Within a day I noticed the sea of white faces. When we moved from Minneapolis to Denver, I remember my first question to my mother was "Where are the black people?" The same confusion and reality settled in, in Australia. Within a year knew I didn't want my kids to believe that was normal for the rest of the world and knew I could supplement lack of culture with travel.
Within the first year in Australia I learned about church and Jesus. I heard the teaching of Jesus. Love, tolerance, patience, kindness. I fell in love with this man. If this is God, I want him.
See, I was raised in a very diverse neighborhood in Minnesota, with a Catholic raised atheist mother. A strong woman with gay friends and a Cuban boyfriend. Interracial dating and gay people still appeared on Opera as "freaks" or show topics. I was raised by a single mother who put herself through graduate school, worked nights and sacrificed everything for her kids. I was pushed to find a god for myself, weather she believed or not, and this Jesus guy seemed to bullhorn the passages of my own mother,
I moved around in Australia, Sydney was great, yet very white. The sun and beaches took over the conversations more than immigration and abortion. It was a fantastic life, and one I will soon return. I missed and will continue to miss the diversity of everywhere else I lived in my life however. Moving to inner city Melbourne was a welcome culture bath. My son's bilingual school of 250 boasting children from 26 countries. This was great! From Melbourne I made the worst mistake to date. We had a year to go anywhere in Australia, and Cairns, the vacation spot of the earth was accessible! Let's freaking go! Live on vacation that's a great idea! Well, very quickly the "small town" feel became an unwelcome presence. I remember going to the South to adopt Titus. I came back talking about how nice everyone was. Little did I realize, people were nice to me, because I was white. Low incomes, low education, and a white supremacy over the indigenous people of Cairns hit me like an ax to the head. Words like "coon" thrown out of the mouths of uneducated white women. Racist slurs and hatred to the oldest people on the planet. It was like my soul had witnessed intellectual and compassionate hell. An adult attacked my child when finding out who he was, intolerance and bigotry everywhere.... in the most beautiful place on earth. How could paradise be so ugly?
I missed America. I missed cheap living, fast food and my brother. 8 years of distance and I was ready to return. James and I joked we would make it 3 out of the 6 months with America's political bullshit. It was easy to watch from 8,000 miles away. "Good luck with that shit, I'm here in a safe educated society with healthcare and a view!" I could do it for 6 months! It was in an airport bar having lunch en-route to America where we learned of the atrocity of Donald Trump. We had a laugh, but thought very little of that. What a joke.....right?
Then the unthinkable. I got sober. My sobriety is a whole other story, and one I will tell another time. However, America got me sober. My life changed, my family healed, so we pushed and pushed to stay. We tried to put out the fear in our minds every day we risked Jaxon's life being sent to school with the potential of his death in a mass shooting. We put out of our minds the growing political circus of 2 racist, homophobic, women hating republicans screaming to kill innocent families and sending non-cared for vets to more unending wars. All the while screaming their religion, claiming to follow a Christian god. That's JESUS right? Jesus loves the NRA and Carpet Bombs? Jesus hates gays and regulates bathrooms? Jesus refuses refugees and immigrants? WHAT PART OF THE FUCKING BIBLE DID JESUS SAY THAT?!?!?!?!
I was able to push the hate aside, on TV. It wasn't my life.... It wasn't my friends......until it was. People I love, people I respect, shouting to damn the poor, and blame the weak. The statue of liberty began to fall and weep. Religious freedom became religious zealots spewing hate and bigotry into open mouths and fueling attacks on brown children. My child's ability to urinate became topic of laws and bills with no basis on fact or reality. A cultural distain for a Civil Rights movement so freely given to me. Fox News and Bill O'Reily a common form of belief and fact. Worship of money and celebrity made way for the rise of everything I despise. The hate. It has gnawed at my soul.
God bless America... and nowhere else.
So I leave. I leave to where we care for the sick and educate the poor. To carbon neutral cities and protection of life. I return to a way of living that doesn't claw at my soul. I didn't want to leave my new community of love and support through sobriety, but even the most respectable of those, those who claim to live a life of tolerance and patience, scream on Facebook to refuse the refugees and reject the immigrant. They claim not to live in fear, yet worship the NRA and love their guns. the walking contradictions of all we claim. Jesus loves you....not you though.... or you....
The lessons of this life. MY story. My life of poverty and needing ungiven support in America, to the life of financial ability given later in life, gave me a perspective I don't know many to have. We pay more in personal taxes than anyone I know, and would rather support a single mother, than Wal Mart. this very small act so many refuse.
So I pray. I pray for the least of us. I pray for peace. The irony that Donald Trumps own the Miss. America pageant, when all those bitches want is world peace. I pray for what I believed Jesus to want. I pray for what Ghandi and Martin Luther, and Budda and Allah all wanted. Love. I am in control of nothing, except my reaction. My reaction is to leave. I take with me, my new friends, I have more love in my personal life right now than I have ever experienced. I can't just live with love of me. I need love of each other. This was a hard lesson, but one I am glad I own now.
I jumped off the plane to the Land of Magic. Kangaroos, G'day's and ocean abounded. It was a little land of bliss. Within a day I noticed the sea of white faces. When we moved from Minneapolis to Denver, I remember my first question to my mother was "Where are the black people?" The same confusion and reality settled in, in Australia. Within a year knew I didn't want my kids to believe that was normal for the rest of the world and knew I could supplement lack of culture with travel.
Within the first year in Australia I learned about church and Jesus. I heard the teaching of Jesus. Love, tolerance, patience, kindness. I fell in love with this man. If this is God, I want him.
See, I was raised in a very diverse neighborhood in Minnesota, with a Catholic raised atheist mother. A strong woman with gay friends and a Cuban boyfriend. Interracial dating and gay people still appeared on Opera as "freaks" or show topics. I was raised by a single mother who put herself through graduate school, worked nights and sacrificed everything for her kids. I was pushed to find a god for myself, weather she believed or not, and this Jesus guy seemed to bullhorn the passages of my own mother,
I moved around in Australia, Sydney was great, yet very white. The sun and beaches took over the conversations more than immigration and abortion. It was a fantastic life, and one I will soon return. I missed and will continue to miss the diversity of everywhere else I lived in my life however. Moving to inner city Melbourne was a welcome culture bath. My son's bilingual school of 250 boasting children from 26 countries. This was great! From Melbourne I made the worst mistake to date. We had a year to go anywhere in Australia, and Cairns, the vacation spot of the earth was accessible! Let's freaking go! Live on vacation that's a great idea! Well, very quickly the "small town" feel became an unwelcome presence. I remember going to the South to adopt Titus. I came back talking about how nice everyone was. Little did I realize, people were nice to me, because I was white. Low incomes, low education, and a white supremacy over the indigenous people of Cairns hit me like an ax to the head. Words like "coon" thrown out of the mouths of uneducated white women. Racist slurs and hatred to the oldest people on the planet. It was like my soul had witnessed intellectual and compassionate hell. An adult attacked my child when finding out who he was, intolerance and bigotry everywhere.... in the most beautiful place on earth. How could paradise be so ugly?
I missed America. I missed cheap living, fast food and my brother. 8 years of distance and I was ready to return. James and I joked we would make it 3 out of the 6 months with America's political bullshit. It was easy to watch from 8,000 miles away. "Good luck with that shit, I'm here in a safe educated society with healthcare and a view!" I could do it for 6 months! It was in an airport bar having lunch en-route to America where we learned of the atrocity of Donald Trump. We had a laugh, but thought very little of that. What a joke.....right?
Then the unthinkable. I got sober. My sobriety is a whole other story, and one I will tell another time. However, America got me sober. My life changed, my family healed, so we pushed and pushed to stay. We tried to put out the fear in our minds every day we risked Jaxon's life being sent to school with the potential of his death in a mass shooting. We put out of our minds the growing political circus of 2 racist, homophobic, women hating republicans screaming to kill innocent families and sending non-cared for vets to more unending wars. All the while screaming their religion, claiming to follow a Christian god. That's JESUS right? Jesus loves the NRA and Carpet Bombs? Jesus hates gays and regulates bathrooms? Jesus refuses refugees and immigrants? WHAT PART OF THE FUCKING BIBLE DID JESUS SAY THAT?!?!?!?!
I was able to push the hate aside, on TV. It wasn't my life.... It wasn't my friends......until it was. People I love, people I respect, shouting to damn the poor, and blame the weak. The statue of liberty began to fall and weep. Religious freedom became religious zealots spewing hate and bigotry into open mouths and fueling attacks on brown children. My child's ability to urinate became topic of laws and bills with no basis on fact or reality. A cultural distain for a Civil Rights movement so freely given to me. Fox News and Bill O'Reily a common form of belief and fact. Worship of money and celebrity made way for the rise of everything I despise. The hate. It has gnawed at my soul.
God bless America... and nowhere else.
So I leave. I leave to where we care for the sick and educate the poor. To carbon neutral cities and protection of life. I return to a way of living that doesn't claw at my soul. I didn't want to leave my new community of love and support through sobriety, but even the most respectable of those, those who claim to live a life of tolerance and patience, scream on Facebook to refuse the refugees and reject the immigrant. They claim not to live in fear, yet worship the NRA and love their guns. the walking contradictions of all we claim. Jesus loves you....not you though.... or you....
The lessons of this life. MY story. My life of poverty and needing ungiven support in America, to the life of financial ability given later in life, gave me a perspective I don't know many to have. We pay more in personal taxes than anyone I know, and would rather support a single mother, than Wal Mart. this very small act so many refuse.
So I pray. I pray for the least of us. I pray for peace. The irony that Donald Trumps own the Miss. America pageant, when all those bitches want is world peace. I pray for what I believed Jesus to want. I pray for what Ghandi and Martin Luther, and Budda and Allah all wanted. Love. I am in control of nothing, except my reaction. My reaction is to leave. I take with me, my new friends, I have more love in my personal life right now than I have ever experienced. I can't just live with love of me. I need love of each other. This was a hard lesson, but one I am glad I own now.
Saturday, 10 January 2015
She's not OK
One of my best friends are dying.
I noticed when someone is dying. others look to that person for comfort
"I'm OK, I had a good life."
Why can't that person say "Fuck this, I'm scared as shit! Fuck I don't want to go yet?
I may be that person. I don't want to go yet.
She's my age and about to go.
She's not fucking ready. She has a son to raise, They are the closest people I know. Can she really just say "It's cool."
I know I'm not her best friend but who is she talking to? Who is she telling how fucking scared she is for her son? Her afterlife? Her pain?
I'm so sorry. I think about what I will say when I call and it sounds so pathetic. "I am so sorry."
Well........that'll help with me fucking dying of cancer.........no.
It sounds so stupid.
"I'm so sorry."
So then I don't say anything,
When my mom died I had the stupidest shit said to me.
"My favorite aunt died, I totally understand." .............yea no you don't.
After I lost my adopted son I shit you not, I had a friend say she had to put a dog up for adoption....;like it was the same thing.....no fucking seriously.....
I have this friend dying and I don't know how to say anything that makes sense. "You changed me. I helped you, you helped me, we were partners, I loved you as family."
I am looking to her to make me feel better.... Selfish bitches. Her mom wept on the phone putting her in an ambulance.
I keep thinking it's not totally real.
What the hell are we doing here?
I'm coming, but what do I say to you?
What would I want someone to say to me?
"Fuck Laura, Oh my God I will miss you."
Yea...... Oh my God Laura I will miss you.
Maybe that is real?
I noticed when someone is dying. others look to that person for comfort
"I'm OK, I had a good life."
Why can't that person say "Fuck this, I'm scared as shit! Fuck I don't want to go yet?
I may be that person. I don't want to go yet.
She's my age and about to go.
She's not fucking ready. She has a son to raise, They are the closest people I know. Can she really just say "It's cool."
I know I'm not her best friend but who is she talking to? Who is she telling how fucking scared she is for her son? Her afterlife? Her pain?
I'm so sorry. I think about what I will say when I call and it sounds so pathetic. "I am so sorry."
Well........that'll help with me fucking dying of cancer.........no.
It sounds so stupid.
"I'm so sorry."
So then I don't say anything,
When my mom died I had the stupidest shit said to me.
"My favorite aunt died, I totally understand." .............yea no you don't.
After I lost my adopted son I shit you not, I had a friend say she had to put a dog up for adoption....;like it was the same thing.....no fucking seriously.....
I have this friend dying and I don't know how to say anything that makes sense. "You changed me. I helped you, you helped me, we were partners, I loved you as family."
I am looking to her to make me feel better.... Selfish bitches. Her mom wept on the phone putting her in an ambulance.
I keep thinking it's not totally real.
What the hell are we doing here?
I'm coming, but what do I say to you?
What would I want someone to say to me?
"Fuck Laura, Oh my God I will miss you."
Yea...... Oh my God Laura I will miss you.
Maybe that is real?
Friday, 18 July 2014
Same assholes, different reactions=different results
So this last month was cool/shit, in the way that I asked for a life lesson, publicly on Facebook, and got one right in the face. That exact life lesson, and now I need to talk it through. I need to talk EVERY emotion through, so sorry, but suck an egg....that's just me.
Life lesson on reacting and how your reaction changes the exact same situation.
I realize now how we can force people to act a way we want them to. 2 examples I remember. My best friend since 15. We were at a concert and literally out of nowhere he says "So are you going to take off now?"
"Wtf? I'm not going anywhere. Why did you say that?"
"Because you always take off. You always go hang out with other people."
"You know you are starting a fight right now don't you?"
"No I'm not, you always leave, I will just sit here and wait for you to find someone else to hang out with."
It was glaringly clear, lights flashing in my face what he was doing. He was trying to make me act a certain way. My friend was deciding I was going to leave, and if I didn't, he was going to try to make me just so he could be right. I am the bad guy who leaves him. After this becomes an argument, I end up leaving, going to hang out with someone else. Just on cue.
The second example, was this guy I met on Facebook, we're talking 9 years ago or something. We became chatting friends, and out of nowhere, he gets weird depressed and was asking when I was going to block him. EVERYONE leaves him, and everyone hates him. Long story short, I end up blocking him after he turns weird. It's almost just a "poor me" attempt to make him validate his crappy life? Does that make sense? We were just friends and I was kind to you. You want to be sad and validate your sadness and loneliness so you are going to push me away to validate how shitty and alone you are, making me another jerk who left you.
So this months life lesson I asked for; how do I not react to people when they are nasty to me. I am REALLY good at telling people off, and have an insult vocabulary to make the Devil himself proud. Don't mess with me. However, EVERY time I react, I feel worse. I stay mad, I get angry for long periods of time, I hurt very deeply and it doesn't stop. How do I do this.
Now I am going to go out on a limb and say I haven't tried to hurt someones feelings in a LONG time. I haven't thrown the first punch on someone in God knows how long. Actually, I haven't really had conflict with anyone in a few years. (Besides mild friend dilemmas and telling Facebookers to F off.)So when asshole #1 came out of nowhere, I was a bit shocked.
ASSHOLE #1. My reaction and the horrible outcome.
Asshole #1 is my older brother Nik. (sorry for the forthcoming LONG story)
Nik is an older brother who I have never liked. We are not on the same planet as far as similar. I mean, as far as 2 humans could be different, so is Nik and I. Nik is a gamer. Enough said right? Highly intelligent, highly narcissistic, very selfish, but it may just be because of his inability to navigate social situations. I don't know. I had some really big resentments after my mother died, he just kinda left us there. Anyways. I always wanted a brother like the rest of the world has. I wanted the older brother that cared for his little sister. Loved her, watched out for her. I wanted the brother that I could look up to, and annoy, and he was just not that. He just honestly did not love me. (cue dad not loving me, and male issues to ensue later in life)
So kinda a big issue in my life.
Mom died, Nik took off, never heard from him again for 5 years.
Nik shows up after Jaxon is like almost 2 "I want to be a family" OK , let's do that. That basically means we are "friends" on Facebook and email each other a "Happy Birthday" Fine. I never expected anything from him, just kindness. I forgave him for not being who I needed him to be, I accepted his quirks, I tried to be a part of his sons life. He didn't acknowledge my kids, which hurt, but his loss. I did my best. I don't like you, but I will respect you!
Few years later. and the start of Asshole #1.
I have not, for literally years, interacted with Nik on Facebook. I might have liked a few of his photos, but no talking, or comments, no messages or wtf ever. I wake up, 6am, to a hate email from him........
"I am taking a break from you on Facebook. I don't think ; blah blah blah..." I don't really remember, but it was listing my flaws as a human being....... out.... of ..... nowhere.
My first reaction, was.... well like everyones, confusion, but then anger. Who the hell does this guy think he is??? But then the reality I don't speak to him made me even more angry, and if he doesn't like what I post on Facebook, just unfollow me! He doesn't know me well enough to have any opinion of me! His opinion of me is none of my business to be honest.
MY REACTION and how it ended horribly- My first email, in a literal attempt to make him see it was silly, and to stop the drama was
"LOL"
This was not a good idea.....
Next email was now a hate email of epic proportion about what an idiot child I was and more of what a horrible person I was.
So now...... Blades of fury erupt. This POS, judgmental, narcissistic, arrogant prick is going to pay. Cue Laura's anger over the course of like 3 emails. My anger that he started this fight to me was justified, as HE started it. (are you seeing it yet?)
HE started the fight, so he deserved every nasty word I said to him. He needed to know what an actual piece of crap HE is.
Which resulted in more nasty emails from him, which resulted in us still no longer, and never again speaking, and him not allowing me access to my Nephew.
What happened here?
My reaction, made me into the person he accused me of being. A childish, idiot. A childish idiot that even though I may not been acting like one before, I sure was acting like one then, and it just justified that first email he wrote. He gets to walk away with his head held high, that I actually AM a childish idiot. And to this day I am pissed. Honestly I am heartbroken. I lost my nephew, and it just feels so nasty inside. I still, months later will be cleaning and just get a pang of anger in my chest, that that SOB started this fight, and that I still want to call him and chew him out.... I am still SO hurt... I am hurt probably because he got to be right. This was when I asked for help to learn the lesson of how I react.
ASSHOLE #2
I have been taking Isiah on as a 4th child for 5 months. He eats 2 meals a day at my house, gets dropped off at 7am, goes home at 7pm, and sleeps over most nights. His parent's are alcoholic and on drugs, so he just came over one day and hasn't left. We all love him so much, he is the older brother Jaxon has been wishing for his entire life.
I have had 3 interactions with the mother, and after the 1st one I told James as we walked away "That woman is dangerous." People who do not take personal responsibility for their lives and actions are literally the most dangerous people on earth in my eyes. Throw in drugs and alcohol, and you have issues. They are squatting in a 2 million dollar home, and most of the interaction was about how hard her life was...... She didn't work, and sat in her room most of the time or slept. (information from her husband and the child.)
I didn't respect her, and I was very concerned to interact with her. I tried so hard however to always offer her support. I quit drinking and smoking, and kindly offered her my way to quit if she had any interest, would offer if she wanted to go to yoga with me, go for a bike ride. I tried. I also knew I couldnt be near her when she was drinking so I decided just to love Isiah and that could be as close as I could get. He did everything we did, we have a pretty fun life and he just came with us. Football games, and beach trips, overnights in hotels and nice meals out. We spoiled his face off because we loved him and just wanted him to have some fun with us.
A few months ago I started getting 1am drunk nasty text messages from her. Nastiness about her husband, or she was leaving to go to a womans shelter. I would never respond, or just text back to ask if I could help her.
One day, James shows me a text from her that said "Sorry I'm texting you, it seems Laura's having problems at the moment." He obviously didn't reply, because texting my husband is wildly inappropriate. I find out later she heard Izzy say we were fighting, so she was trying to infiltrate my marriage and have James say something bad about me. She wanted there to be issues in my marriage to justify the issues in hers. Obviously he didn't reply, as James has already learned this life lesson. She started getting very dominant to her husband and Isiah and would literally break our plans as we were walking out the door. Isiah wouldn't go to school if I didn't bring him, and some days he just wouldn't go to school for a week. I started getting VERY concerned and scared of what was about to happen. I knew she was screwed up.
Last week it finally came..... The text message I was waiting for..... She basically wrote about what the kids were out doing was not OK with her...... Isiah went home 20 minutes prior to ask if he could go. They left, and I get this message that it's not OK and that I was a bad parent basically....... You just told your son it was OK..... wtf.......
I knew the moment it came, sadly I had to end the relationship with Isiah because I couldn't do it anymore. This woman was sick and she was dangerous and I couldn't do it. I slowly replied I was sorry, but I can't be a part of whatever was going on, if she needed to talk to Izzy, they have really good deals on cell phones.
All....hell.....broke loose...... But this time I did something different. I didn't react.
I didn't engage her.
Was I mad? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I WAS MAD> I just raised your son for 5 months while you got drunk! That day I had taken him to get the signatures of an entire AFL team, and we had a beach party! I have fed him for months, and loved him and cared for him....... But mostly, he was Jaxons best friend and this crazy bitch is about to end all of that.
Vanessa went on a rampage. There were about 50 text messages about what a POS I was...... I don't know why, because she literally didn't know me.... She called me these names that were so crazy, and sadly just a reflection of herself. I realized very quickly that she was wildly jealous. I basically am doing everything she wished she could be doing as a wife, mother, human, but she was incapable and she knew that if she could make me react into this shit person that she would be right and justified to be jealous and hateful towards me.
If I attacked back, then she would be right, that skinny rich girls are awful bitches..........
The text messages went for 2 days, horrible words. How sorry she felt for my husband. Not responding sucked. I wanted to kick her teeth in. I just didn't respond. I spoke to people who loved me, and spoke through my hurt. We pointed out what she was going through and made it make sense why she chose to react that way. I forgave her, and realized it really must suck to be her.
That day hurt so much, Jaxon was hurt.... He was so devestated and I was so damn angry that she was the cause of this. I wanted to hurt her.... But I chose not to. I chose. To keep my dignity, and react as a Christian is supposed to. I am not here to fix you, I am here to love you. If I give you back what crap you gave me, I am no better than you. I am going to turn the other cheek, walk away, grieve, hurt, and heal. This is the life lesson.
A week later and sometimes I think about how hurt I am, or how I would sure love to tell her off....what I could say..... But it's going away quickly. With Nik, it's still there because I lost. I big time lost. I am still hurt. With Vanessa, I won. I don't have to be who she wants me to be. I am NOT who she wants me to be.
I can walk away with my head held high, and for once, and realizing what it means to have a bit of class.
Hurts will come, but how you react will change everything.
Life lesson on reacting and how your reaction changes the exact same situation.
I realize now how we can force people to act a way we want them to. 2 examples I remember. My best friend since 15. We were at a concert and literally out of nowhere he says "So are you going to take off now?"
"Wtf? I'm not going anywhere. Why did you say that?"
"Because you always take off. You always go hang out with other people."
"You know you are starting a fight right now don't you?"
"No I'm not, you always leave, I will just sit here and wait for you to find someone else to hang out with."
It was glaringly clear, lights flashing in my face what he was doing. He was trying to make me act a certain way. My friend was deciding I was going to leave, and if I didn't, he was going to try to make me just so he could be right. I am the bad guy who leaves him. After this becomes an argument, I end up leaving, going to hang out with someone else. Just on cue.
The second example, was this guy I met on Facebook, we're talking 9 years ago or something. We became chatting friends, and out of nowhere, he gets weird depressed and was asking when I was going to block him. EVERYONE leaves him, and everyone hates him. Long story short, I end up blocking him after he turns weird. It's almost just a "poor me" attempt to make him validate his crappy life? Does that make sense? We were just friends and I was kind to you. You want to be sad and validate your sadness and loneliness so you are going to push me away to validate how shitty and alone you are, making me another jerk who left you.
So this months life lesson I asked for; how do I not react to people when they are nasty to me. I am REALLY good at telling people off, and have an insult vocabulary to make the Devil himself proud. Don't mess with me. However, EVERY time I react, I feel worse. I stay mad, I get angry for long periods of time, I hurt very deeply and it doesn't stop. How do I do this.
Now I am going to go out on a limb and say I haven't tried to hurt someones feelings in a LONG time. I haven't thrown the first punch on someone in God knows how long. Actually, I haven't really had conflict with anyone in a few years. (Besides mild friend dilemmas and telling Facebookers to F off.)So when asshole #1 came out of nowhere, I was a bit shocked.
ASSHOLE #1. My reaction and the horrible outcome.
Asshole #1 is my older brother Nik. (sorry for the forthcoming LONG story)
Nik is an older brother who I have never liked. We are not on the same planet as far as similar. I mean, as far as 2 humans could be different, so is Nik and I. Nik is a gamer. Enough said right? Highly intelligent, highly narcissistic, very selfish, but it may just be because of his inability to navigate social situations. I don't know. I had some really big resentments after my mother died, he just kinda left us there. Anyways. I always wanted a brother like the rest of the world has. I wanted the older brother that cared for his little sister. Loved her, watched out for her. I wanted the brother that I could look up to, and annoy, and he was just not that. He just honestly did not love me. (cue dad not loving me, and male issues to ensue later in life)
So kinda a big issue in my life.
Mom died, Nik took off, never heard from him again for 5 years.
Nik shows up after Jaxon is like almost 2 "I want to be a family" OK , let's do that. That basically means we are "friends" on Facebook and email each other a "Happy Birthday" Fine. I never expected anything from him, just kindness. I forgave him for not being who I needed him to be, I accepted his quirks, I tried to be a part of his sons life. He didn't acknowledge my kids, which hurt, but his loss. I did my best. I don't like you, but I will respect you!
Few years later. and the start of Asshole #1.
I have not, for literally years, interacted with Nik on Facebook. I might have liked a few of his photos, but no talking, or comments, no messages or wtf ever. I wake up, 6am, to a hate email from him........
"I am taking a break from you on Facebook. I don't think ; blah blah blah..." I don't really remember, but it was listing my flaws as a human being....... out.... of ..... nowhere.
My first reaction, was.... well like everyones, confusion, but then anger. Who the hell does this guy think he is??? But then the reality I don't speak to him made me even more angry, and if he doesn't like what I post on Facebook, just unfollow me! He doesn't know me well enough to have any opinion of me! His opinion of me is none of my business to be honest.
MY REACTION and how it ended horribly- My first email, in a literal attempt to make him see it was silly, and to stop the drama was
"LOL"
This was not a good idea.....
Next email was now a hate email of epic proportion about what an idiot child I was and more of what a horrible person I was.
So now...... Blades of fury erupt. This POS, judgmental, narcissistic, arrogant prick is going to pay. Cue Laura's anger over the course of like 3 emails. My anger that he started this fight to me was justified, as HE started it. (are you seeing it yet?)
HE started the fight, so he deserved every nasty word I said to him. He needed to know what an actual piece of crap HE is.
Which resulted in more nasty emails from him, which resulted in us still no longer, and never again speaking, and him not allowing me access to my Nephew.
What happened here?
My reaction, made me into the person he accused me of being. A childish, idiot. A childish idiot that even though I may not been acting like one before, I sure was acting like one then, and it just justified that first email he wrote. He gets to walk away with his head held high, that I actually AM a childish idiot. And to this day I am pissed. Honestly I am heartbroken. I lost my nephew, and it just feels so nasty inside. I still, months later will be cleaning and just get a pang of anger in my chest, that that SOB started this fight, and that I still want to call him and chew him out.... I am still SO hurt... I am hurt probably because he got to be right. This was when I asked for help to learn the lesson of how I react.
ASSHOLE #2
I have been taking Isiah on as a 4th child for 5 months. He eats 2 meals a day at my house, gets dropped off at 7am, goes home at 7pm, and sleeps over most nights. His parent's are alcoholic and on drugs, so he just came over one day and hasn't left. We all love him so much, he is the older brother Jaxon has been wishing for his entire life.
I have had 3 interactions with the mother, and after the 1st one I told James as we walked away "That woman is dangerous." People who do not take personal responsibility for their lives and actions are literally the most dangerous people on earth in my eyes. Throw in drugs and alcohol, and you have issues. They are squatting in a 2 million dollar home, and most of the interaction was about how hard her life was...... She didn't work, and sat in her room most of the time or slept. (information from her husband and the child.)
I didn't respect her, and I was very concerned to interact with her. I tried so hard however to always offer her support. I quit drinking and smoking, and kindly offered her my way to quit if she had any interest, would offer if she wanted to go to yoga with me, go for a bike ride. I tried. I also knew I couldnt be near her when she was drinking so I decided just to love Isiah and that could be as close as I could get. He did everything we did, we have a pretty fun life and he just came with us. Football games, and beach trips, overnights in hotels and nice meals out. We spoiled his face off because we loved him and just wanted him to have some fun with us.
A few months ago I started getting 1am drunk nasty text messages from her. Nastiness about her husband, or she was leaving to go to a womans shelter. I would never respond, or just text back to ask if I could help her.
One day, James shows me a text from her that said "Sorry I'm texting you, it seems Laura's having problems at the moment." He obviously didn't reply, because texting my husband is wildly inappropriate. I find out later she heard Izzy say we were fighting, so she was trying to infiltrate my marriage and have James say something bad about me. She wanted there to be issues in my marriage to justify the issues in hers. Obviously he didn't reply, as James has already learned this life lesson. She started getting very dominant to her husband and Isiah and would literally break our plans as we were walking out the door. Isiah wouldn't go to school if I didn't bring him, and some days he just wouldn't go to school for a week. I started getting VERY concerned and scared of what was about to happen. I knew she was screwed up.
Last week it finally came..... The text message I was waiting for..... She basically wrote about what the kids were out doing was not OK with her...... Isiah went home 20 minutes prior to ask if he could go. They left, and I get this message that it's not OK and that I was a bad parent basically....... You just told your son it was OK..... wtf.......
I knew the moment it came, sadly I had to end the relationship with Isiah because I couldn't do it anymore. This woman was sick and she was dangerous and I couldn't do it. I slowly replied I was sorry, but I can't be a part of whatever was going on, if she needed to talk to Izzy, they have really good deals on cell phones.
All....hell.....broke loose...... But this time I did something different. I didn't react.
I didn't engage her.
Was I mad? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I WAS MAD> I just raised your son for 5 months while you got drunk! That day I had taken him to get the signatures of an entire AFL team, and we had a beach party! I have fed him for months, and loved him and cared for him....... But mostly, he was Jaxons best friend and this crazy bitch is about to end all of that.
Vanessa went on a rampage. There were about 50 text messages about what a POS I was...... I don't know why, because she literally didn't know me.... She called me these names that were so crazy, and sadly just a reflection of herself. I realized very quickly that she was wildly jealous. I basically am doing everything she wished she could be doing as a wife, mother, human, but she was incapable and she knew that if she could make me react into this shit person that she would be right and justified to be jealous and hateful towards me.
If I attacked back, then she would be right, that skinny rich girls are awful bitches..........
The text messages went for 2 days, horrible words. How sorry she felt for my husband. Not responding sucked. I wanted to kick her teeth in. I just didn't respond. I spoke to people who loved me, and spoke through my hurt. We pointed out what she was going through and made it make sense why she chose to react that way. I forgave her, and realized it really must suck to be her.
That day hurt so much, Jaxon was hurt.... He was so devestated and I was so damn angry that she was the cause of this. I wanted to hurt her.... But I chose not to. I chose. To keep my dignity, and react as a Christian is supposed to. I am not here to fix you, I am here to love you. If I give you back what crap you gave me, I am no better than you. I am going to turn the other cheek, walk away, grieve, hurt, and heal. This is the life lesson.
A week later and sometimes I think about how hurt I am, or how I would sure love to tell her off....what I could say..... But it's going away quickly. With Nik, it's still there because I lost. I big time lost. I am still hurt. With Vanessa, I won. I don't have to be who she wants me to be. I am NOT who she wants me to be.
I can walk away with my head held high, and for once, and realizing what it means to have a bit of class.
Hurts will come, but how you react will change everything.
Thursday, 13 March 2014
No longer possible
No Longer Possible-
It is no longer possible for me to write a post, highlighting my issues with childhood obesity and have a friend single themselves out and say "That bitch is talking about me." I can no longer single one friend out, because YOU, are so so many.
I have an ISSUE with childhood obesity.
It started when I moved to Australia, and the ultimately thin healthy lifestyle threw me into a tail spin. being obese was unusual, and growing older watching America friend balloon up, was an interesting experience. I myself had a huge issue with weight in America, and through experience only, am I now considering myself incredibly well know ledged in all things "health".
YOU have an issue with food, not your kids.
I was at dinner tonight and looked to my left. A heavily obese women with three kids. her 8 year old son, already obese, 6 year old son stick thin, and baby in a highchair normal weight. The baby, had juice in her bottle.
Let's just stick with reality here.
This mother, loves her baby so much, that she only wants her to drink what tastes good.... to her.....
Babies, wether you think so or not, LOVE the taste and thirst quenching refreshment of water. They don't NEED nor crave sweet drinks. I promise you that mother loves her kids to death, but she is contributing to their premature death in this exact way.
To my right was a 10 year old, obese kid with a man sized meal and a Fanta soda. Again, yes it tastes good, but for fuck sake is his 3 minutes of drink enjoyment worth his daily struggle with obesity?
Family ones' oldest was outside trying to play and run around. Just like all the other kids, but was completely out of breath. His extra weight from his "mothers love" was dragging him down physically in front of everyone. Does your child want fried chicken strips and coke? Or to play with his friends?
Family 2, after his feast and Fanta went to play on his tablet in the corner for the rest of the night.
IF YOUR CHILD IS OBESE IT IS YOUR FAULT.
I know, I know, fuck you Laura, what a bitch.
But the gentle kind hands of "please make better choices" isn't working!
Your babies don't fill their own bottles, and until they are cooking their own meals it's up to us.
But that doesn't mean you put your kids on a diet. Exactly the opposite! Again, YOU have an issue with food not them. There is no good or bad food. There is just food, and nutrition as our body needs and desires.
YOU get depressed and eat. So when your 4 year old skins their knee, you may give him a chocolate. Nope, fucking them up. Food is not a n anti depressant or a way to make pain go away.
YOU eat when you are happy. So when your child does something great, you bring them to Mc Donalds. No, that is fucking them up. Mc Donalds is a sometimes, running too many errands in a day, gotta feed them something food.
YOU have an issue with sweets, so giving them artificial sweeteners instead to make yourself feel better is fucking them up. Your kids when given sweets in moderation and with the ability to stop eating when ready, do not see sweet food as anything more than sweet food.
YOU love fried, cure, buttered, cheesed, processed food. Your children are born loving fresh, pure, natural tastes. You are fucking them up. Stop it. They love an apple. Just give them a fucking apple.
COOK YOUR MEALS! I understand it is now cheaper to get Mc Donalds than it is to feed a family of 4 at home. But cheaper now? Or in 10 years when your kids need a motorized scooter, custom clothes and a fucking sleep apnoea machine?
So I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that you are feeling like I am singling YOU out, but YOU are too many to single out. All YOU can do is stop killing your kid with your issues. If you are obese your child has an 80% chance of being obese. You want this for them? Oh hell to the no you don't.
Wanna fix it? Be KIND to yourself. Separate your needs from theirs. Love them with time not food. Love them with nutrition for their minds and bodies. Love them from the inside, and take care of yourself. Take time for yourself. Get a sitter and spend some time loving you again.
I don't want to do it anymore. Keep your issues YOUR issues and leave your precious, beautiful LOVED babies out of it. You are killing them.
Laura
It is no longer possible for me to write a post, highlighting my issues with childhood obesity and have a friend single themselves out and say "That bitch is talking about me." I can no longer single one friend out, because YOU, are so so many.
I have an ISSUE with childhood obesity.
It started when I moved to Australia, and the ultimately thin healthy lifestyle threw me into a tail spin. being obese was unusual, and growing older watching America friend balloon up, was an interesting experience. I myself had a huge issue with weight in America, and through experience only, am I now considering myself incredibly well know ledged in all things "health".
YOU have an issue with food, not your kids.
I was at dinner tonight and looked to my left. A heavily obese women with three kids. her 8 year old son, already obese, 6 year old son stick thin, and baby in a highchair normal weight. The baby, had juice in her bottle.
Let's just stick with reality here.
This mother, loves her baby so much, that she only wants her to drink what tastes good.... to her.....
Babies, wether you think so or not, LOVE the taste and thirst quenching refreshment of water. They don't NEED nor crave sweet drinks. I promise you that mother loves her kids to death, but she is contributing to their premature death in this exact way.
To my right was a 10 year old, obese kid with a man sized meal and a Fanta soda. Again, yes it tastes good, but for fuck sake is his 3 minutes of drink enjoyment worth his daily struggle with obesity?
Family ones' oldest was outside trying to play and run around. Just like all the other kids, but was completely out of breath. His extra weight from his "mothers love" was dragging him down physically in front of everyone. Does your child want fried chicken strips and coke? Or to play with his friends?
Family 2, after his feast and Fanta went to play on his tablet in the corner for the rest of the night.
IF YOUR CHILD IS OBESE IT IS YOUR FAULT.
I know, I know, fuck you Laura, what a bitch.
But the gentle kind hands of "please make better choices" isn't working!
Your babies don't fill their own bottles, and until they are cooking their own meals it's up to us.
But that doesn't mean you put your kids on a diet. Exactly the opposite! Again, YOU have an issue with food not them. There is no good or bad food. There is just food, and nutrition as our body needs and desires.
YOU get depressed and eat. So when your 4 year old skins their knee, you may give him a chocolate. Nope, fucking them up. Food is not a n anti depressant or a way to make pain go away.
YOU eat when you are happy. So when your child does something great, you bring them to Mc Donalds. No, that is fucking them up. Mc Donalds is a sometimes, running too many errands in a day, gotta feed them something food.
YOU have an issue with sweets, so giving them artificial sweeteners instead to make yourself feel better is fucking them up. Your kids when given sweets in moderation and with the ability to stop eating when ready, do not see sweet food as anything more than sweet food.
YOU love fried, cure, buttered, cheesed, processed food. Your children are born loving fresh, pure, natural tastes. You are fucking them up. Stop it. They love an apple. Just give them a fucking apple.
COOK YOUR MEALS! I understand it is now cheaper to get Mc Donalds than it is to feed a family of 4 at home. But cheaper now? Or in 10 years when your kids need a motorized scooter, custom clothes and a fucking sleep apnoea machine?
So I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that you are feeling like I am singling YOU out, but YOU are too many to single out. All YOU can do is stop killing your kid with your issues. If you are obese your child has an 80% chance of being obese. You want this for them? Oh hell to the no you don't.
Wanna fix it? Be KIND to yourself. Separate your needs from theirs. Love them with time not food. Love them with nutrition for their minds and bodies. Love them from the inside, and take care of yourself. Take time for yourself. Get a sitter and spend some time loving you again.
I don't want to do it anymore. Keep your issues YOUR issues and leave your precious, beautiful LOVED babies out of it. You are killing them.
Laura
Sunday, 2 March 2014
The History
I don't think I realised until she died what she really bestowed in me.
My single mother, working 2 jobs, instilled values that seemed so normal and everyday. I believed everyone of my age was getting the same lessons at home.
My mother- was amazing.
I now like to speak about your reality being the life you had growing up. What you were raised is what is "normal" to you. If your parents were divorced, you may not highlight marriage as a priority. You may see it as dispensable. If your parent's are married for 50 years, marriage may mean something else.
Religion, racism, alcohol, politics. What you were brought up with is your normal.
I was raised different.
My mother kept her last name. We had a HORRIBLE hyphenated last name that was in total 26 letters long. I spelled the alphabet to write my name because she refused to take her husbands name. This feminism to me was normal. Sorry, but when I met a man with a great last name I cheered!
She was an atheist, who did the most amazing thing by refusing to tell us her beliefs, but challenged us to find out for ourselves. With this, I searched. High, and low, and in and out to find what I believed, not what she believed.
She worked 2 jobs, and put herself through school and grad school. She was a single mother of three that worked and gave more than anyone I know. She loved us.
The most amazing thing she did, which I didn't know until now; was she raised us open-minded. My mother had gay friends, when gay people were on Oprah. " I slept with a man!" It was a talk show subject!
We were raised in Frog Town, a predominantly black area, and I was a minority at my school. This was my normal. Being gay, or another color than myself....was normal.
The problem, if you want to call it that, is that as I grew up, I didn't get that things like racism, or hatred toward a group because of anything beside their own hate...eg the KKK. It's OK to hate a group that hates yea? Even existed? I wasn't rasied to hate ANYONE. I knew gay people, and adopted people, black people, and people of religions I can't even spell. It was a non issue since I could speak.
By 8 I was shocked that racism even existed!
I didn't believe people could dislike another group of people, because I was raised so well not to see things like that.
He's an ass because he's an ass. It has nothing to do with him being gay, black, Asian, Jewish or Indian. THAT dude is an ass.
With her gone now, I wonder where she got it. I wonder where that seed was planted in her, because I am sure she wasn't raised with it. How could she have been?
So I get the different kid. The kid some people hate, and the kid some people don't "get" and I know God did that to keep him alive. This all started before me, and with my mother.
I wish I could talk to her about it now as an adult. Say thank you!
When people tell me "Thank you for supporting your child" I just fall over. Well fucking "duh" I support him., but it isn't the case for most people.
I did it too though. I put Haven in the most diverse school I could, and plan to raise them all the way my mother did with that regard. I just still always wonder why sexuality, race, religion are still even a "THING." Why the fuck do we spend so much time on such stupid shit? We eat, poop, die exactly the same. We are one.
We have so much to do right now as a generation of living beings, that I can't believe things like this Arizona bigot law even comes up. REALLY? What year are we in?
I don't see the world as other people see it.
Thank you, to my mom. I wish I would have known earlier how teaching your children equality and love changes an entire nation.
I love you....unless you suck. No other conditions apply to that.
Laura
My single mother, working 2 jobs, instilled values that seemed so normal and everyday. I believed everyone of my age was getting the same lessons at home.
My mother- was amazing.
I now like to speak about your reality being the life you had growing up. What you were raised is what is "normal" to you. If your parents were divorced, you may not highlight marriage as a priority. You may see it as dispensable. If your parent's are married for 50 years, marriage may mean something else.
Religion, racism, alcohol, politics. What you were brought up with is your normal.
I was raised different.
My mother kept her last name. We had a HORRIBLE hyphenated last name that was in total 26 letters long. I spelled the alphabet to write my name because she refused to take her husbands name. This feminism to me was normal. Sorry, but when I met a man with a great last name I cheered!
She was an atheist, who did the most amazing thing by refusing to tell us her beliefs, but challenged us to find out for ourselves. With this, I searched. High, and low, and in and out to find what I believed, not what she believed.
She worked 2 jobs, and put herself through school and grad school. She was a single mother of three that worked and gave more than anyone I know. She loved us.
The most amazing thing she did, which I didn't know until now; was she raised us open-minded. My mother had gay friends, when gay people were on Oprah. " I slept with a man!" It was a talk show subject!
We were raised in Frog Town, a predominantly black area, and I was a minority at my school. This was my normal. Being gay, or another color than myself....was normal.
The problem, if you want to call it that, is that as I grew up, I didn't get that things like racism, or hatred toward a group because of anything beside their own hate...eg the KKK. It's OK to hate a group that hates yea? Even existed? I wasn't rasied to hate ANYONE. I knew gay people, and adopted people, black people, and people of religions I can't even spell. It was a non issue since I could speak.
By 8 I was shocked that racism even existed!
I didn't believe people could dislike another group of people, because I was raised so well not to see things like that.
He's an ass because he's an ass. It has nothing to do with him being gay, black, Asian, Jewish or Indian. THAT dude is an ass.
With her gone now, I wonder where she got it. I wonder where that seed was planted in her, because I am sure she wasn't raised with it. How could she have been?
So I get the different kid. The kid some people hate, and the kid some people don't "get" and I know God did that to keep him alive. This all started before me, and with my mother.
I wish I could talk to her about it now as an adult. Say thank you!
When people tell me "Thank you for supporting your child" I just fall over. Well fucking "duh" I support him., but it isn't the case for most people.
I did it too though. I put Haven in the most diverse school I could, and plan to raise them all the way my mother did with that regard. I just still always wonder why sexuality, race, religion are still even a "THING." Why the fuck do we spend so much time on such stupid shit? We eat, poop, die exactly the same. We are one.
We have so much to do right now as a generation of living beings, that I can't believe things like this Arizona bigot law even comes up. REALLY? What year are we in?
I don't see the world as other people see it.
Thank you, to my mom. I wish I would have known earlier how teaching your children equality and love changes an entire nation.
I love you....unless you suck. No other conditions apply to that.
Laura
Monday, 20 January 2014
Letter to My 13 Year Old Self
Letter to my 13 year old self-
Dear Child, calm down.
You are going to be OK. I am
sorry for your times till now, but it will be Ok in the end.
Dear child, stop fighting.
You are not in a war with the world.
You are not needing to be in a war with yourself, it is going to get
better. Stop hating everyone for what you went through, it wasn’t the world,
and the whole world isn’t’ against you.
If you could see the ones waiting to help and love you, you wouldn’t be
so focused on those who don’t. Especially your mother.
Dear child, your body is perfect. It doesn’t need to cause you shame. Silly little twit, you are smooth, thin, and gorgeous in your
youth. Please stop hating it. It was a gift from God. What a waste to hate yourself for your
looks. This is not going to change, and
is not helpful to anyone. The girls
that called you ugly are only insecure themselves. You are worthy of eating,
you are worthy of wearing a bathing suit, you are worthy of having three meals
a day. Your vision of perfection is not
realistic. It is hurtful to your
mind. Those women don’t exist, and you
are perfect the way you are. Even if you were a hideous ogre, you are still owrthy of love and will find it.
The reality of your beauty will come, long after it has
begun to fade. When the stretch marks
of your children become marks of pride.
When your forehead begins to wrinkle with the questioning faces you have
made in learning new things. With the
smile lines around your eyes that were created….from smiling.
Dear child, stop hating men and marriage. You do not have a good model of what a happy
family is. This does not mean you can’t
learn a template all your own for a family. You have not seen happy, but you
will create it later. You hate men
because they have not treated you well to this point. You have been taken advantage of, and this wasn’t your
fault. You have put yourself in scary
situations because you don’t feel worthy of happiness or love. This is shit, so stop it. Stop hurting yourself through men, and in
turn hurting them back.
Please stop believing you are destined for nothing. Nik was smarter than you, but did not come
out with more knowledge. Aaron is cuter
than you, but did not come out with a better looking spouse. The way you compare yourselves to them is so
pointless in the end. Their opinions of
you do not make your reality, so stop it.
Just stop. You will learn your brothers are just people. They have their good and their bad, and they
are to be respected for things, and despised for things….but mostly
respected. They came from the same
mould, just not the same Jello. You are destined for such amazing things
girl. If you would just follow your
dreams, from the beginning. Child, you
will live them, just have a bit of self worth to do so. You are worthy of happiness.
Dear child stop hurting others in a bid to make you feel
better. The thing’s you regret are not
that you didn’t fight harder, but that you hurt others. Stop with the loud mouth, big shot, fight
the world attitude. You will regret
those moments, and any pain you caused to others. When you look back, you will see the missed opportunities to help
others, the love you could have offered, and the hurt you caused instead. You are just fighting against your own
insecurities. Child, please stop
fighting. You don’t see the pain you
are carrying. You don’t even see the
hurt you carry, you just have flipped it to hatred, and it does nothing but
hurt others.
Dear child, there is a God.
He’s the one who changes it around for you in the end. I pray you knew him sooner, but it all comes
in the right time. You are so afraid of
death, and that all is a waste of time.
You aren’t dead for at LEAST 19 years, so chill out about that. Your obsession, is mostly linked to your
feeling of not being worthy of life.
You are.
Child, you are sad for your children. You say “ I feel sorry for whatever poor
soul decides to be my kid” and this is wrong.
You will have children that even if you may not be worthy of them, you
will love their faces off. You will be
a good mother. Not the best, but you
will realise there is no “Perfect” mom, and that’s OK. You will see that as a mother, you can love
them, and do the right thing for them; even when the odds are stacked against
you. You will find a consistency in you, you never knew existed. You will learn to apologise, and you will
learn to put your selfish self….second.
Have fun with your self centred ways now sweetie, because they fly right
out the door in time!
Child forgive them… ALL OF THEM. Forgive those that make bad choices, and hurt you. Forgive every human that crosses your path,
because if you don’t, the resentment just hangs on you like mud. If you can
know that other people are just living their experiences, maybe you can see the
good in those people. Maybe, you could
see that you are just living your experiences, and not be so hurt as well. You don’t need to hate yourself for your
choices, just forgive YOU, and learn, and move on. Please child forgive yourself.
Dear child, your life gets better. I don’t want to tell you how much better, as you may not do
anything, and just hang out and wait for 26.
You need to go through your struggles, and you need to learn. Just be patient.
You are good.
You are kind. You are strong. You are beautiful. You are worthy.
Friday, 3 January 2014
My 7 year old can't get married
Right...
Look at your prep kid, and tell them they can't get married.
Haven can sit in the front seat now. He's 7. I was like 5 when I could sit in the front, Your mom was your seat belt with her arm out. I remember as I have siblings and that was a death match, cage fight, gauging each others eyes out to sit in the front. He's cool, as he's got 4 years on his sister. Haven can sit in the front. Actually I love it. I can look at him. I can see my kid as I drive! When we are alone and driving together we have the best time. My best times, are when we put on loud music, I drive and dance, Haven mocks me looking like a mentally challenged rhino. Whatever Haven, I was SO cool.... emphasis on WAS.
Today was hard.
Macklemore has this song."Same Love." It's about being gay. And Haven loves it. I am pretty sure the reason was completely sub-conscious as, until our drive he really didn't get what it ment. He has a stupid 7 year old playlist that when we are alone in the car he requests in order.
1. "Party Rockers" Red Foo"
2. "Red Hands" I don't remember who
3. "Same Love." Macklemore,
We got to number three, and we drove as usual. Today was to the pet shop.
" You always grab my hand when we listen to this song! You grab my hand at the exact same part!!!" Haven said. He was annoyed.
I do. Every time she says " I can't change, even if I tried." I grab his hand when he's in the front seat. I grab his hand because of every bigoted, horrible, ignorant rant I have ever heard about homosexual and transgender people. I grab his hand because my kid can't change who he is and always has been. Even if he tried, even if he wanted to.
"Why do you do that?"
I pulled into the pet shop parking lot, song still in the background.
"Do you know what this song is about?" I asked
"No." He said, with very curious eyes.
For the first time in my life, I had to look at my 7 year old and tell him. "You can't get married."
My eyes filled with tears and my heart sunk to my stomach. What the fuck did I just say to him. Haven looked blankly at me. His head cocked to the side, and then his eyes closed. " This song is about the fact that, because you were born who you are, people like you can't get married."
I had never said it out loud.
Haven did as all men do. He sucked it in. He turned his head, and closed his eyes, and a tear came from under his closed lids.
What the fuck did I just have to say to my child?
Then the irony. The horrible irony came from his mouth "But I will marry a Christian!"
My faith. My unwavering faith that Jesus died for our sins, making me a Christian, yet the very people oppressing his rights as a human. "But I will marry a Christian."
I can't go to the place that having a baby born to you, with a difference that is so out of the box it causes pure harit has. Look at whatever kid you see around you. If they just happen to be different to you, you want to take their human rights away? I can't do that. I raised a baby, to a child with kindness, compassion, empathy, caring, understanding, humour, good will, and grace. That child has friend from 1-100. He has friends that don't speak the same language. He has care for his family and sibling as any mother could only dream. I have the perfect child, who was born different, and even though he would be a better ambassador for the world than anyone for the job, we judge him.
We were on a flight and flying in business class. At some point Haven leaned over and asked "Why are so many people giving me mean looks?" I told him most kids don't fly in the front, they are just upset."
Haven's answer was "Does it cost more to sit up here? If people want to sit here, I will go back there no problem!"
That's Haven.
"You can't get married."
There are scientific proofs of what a child needs to be a productive member of society, a good parent, a contributing member, and we did that. We have a good role model of parenting success on paper. We have a parent role model, a happy home. We also have taught a faith and a way to live, and a way to treat others. My child picks up trash, doesn't discriminate, he has more friends of nationalities other than his own, he actually doesn't know one of his own descent!
My child..... Knew a girl was being bullied at school, and made an agreement with is friends. If his friends has a kid to play with, and this little girl doesn't, then he will go play with her. THAT is my child.
Kim Kardashian, and all those stupid holly wood bitches can get married for 5 hours, and it not be an issue, but my child, who will love an honour a wife until death. Will make the commitment as his parents have to cherish and honour his partner; raise his kids to be great people.. He can't get married, but everyone else can?
I never said it out loud.
I believe church and state need to be separate. Period. I didn't get "Transgender" until I had to live it, and now my empathy and sympathy for others only unfolded by a million. People don't "Get" things they don't live", only cementing my stand as an empiricist.
You don't "Get" homosexuality? That's cool, you probably can say you aren't gay. You don't get "transgender?" I get that, as only 90 kids out of 21 million are transgender. Cool, The reality is your ability to "Get" things are probably only what you have experienced, and that not being one is understandable. It doesn't make it less real, and it doesn't make your ignorance OK.
We are just who we are. I have learned that and many other lessons from a kid unlike other kids.
The day you have to tell your child they can't do something because of the way they were born, I just ask for a moment of thought. "You can't be you." Other's don't accept ir.
There are some stupid fucking Facebook groups about "Stop discrimination against tattooed people." Are you fucking KIDDING me? This is a choice! You weren't born with neck tattoos! I got a job first princesses, and if you didn't that's a bad judgement call. STFU!
My child can't get married. Even though he will support his children, love his wife, and honour his vows. I have never had to to say that, and now I did, and now I finally feel what it feels to hate the world.
My child will honour his wife, raise his kids to have respect, and be a contributing member of society. He will fallow Jesus, and care for others, and because of the way he was born he can't do what his parents role modelled to do. How the fuck is that right?
I held his hand and cried as I told him he can't get married.
Look at your prep kid, and tell them they can't get married.
Haven can sit in the front seat now. He's 7. I was like 5 when I could sit in the front, Your mom was your seat belt with her arm out. I remember as I have siblings and that was a death match, cage fight, gauging each others eyes out to sit in the front. He's cool, as he's got 4 years on his sister. Haven can sit in the front. Actually I love it. I can look at him. I can see my kid as I drive! When we are alone and driving together we have the best time. My best times, are when we put on loud music, I drive and dance, Haven mocks me looking like a mentally challenged rhino. Whatever Haven, I was SO cool.... emphasis on WAS.
Today was hard.
Macklemore has this song."Same Love." It's about being gay. And Haven loves it. I am pretty sure the reason was completely sub-conscious as, until our drive he really didn't get what it ment. He has a stupid 7 year old playlist that when we are alone in the car he requests in order.
1. "Party Rockers" Red Foo"
2. "Red Hands" I don't remember who
3. "Same Love." Macklemore,
We got to number three, and we drove as usual. Today was to the pet shop.
" You always grab my hand when we listen to this song! You grab my hand at the exact same part!!!" Haven said. He was annoyed.
I do. Every time she says " I can't change, even if I tried." I grab his hand when he's in the front seat. I grab his hand because of every bigoted, horrible, ignorant rant I have ever heard about homosexual and transgender people. I grab his hand because my kid can't change who he is and always has been. Even if he tried, even if he wanted to.
"Why do you do that?"
I pulled into the pet shop parking lot, song still in the background.
"Do you know what this song is about?" I asked
"No." He said, with very curious eyes.
For the first time in my life, I had to look at my 7 year old and tell him. "You can't get married."
My eyes filled with tears and my heart sunk to my stomach. What the fuck did I just say to him. Haven looked blankly at me. His head cocked to the side, and then his eyes closed. " This song is about the fact that, because you were born who you are, people like you can't get married."
I had never said it out loud.
Haven did as all men do. He sucked it in. He turned his head, and closed his eyes, and a tear came from under his closed lids.
What the fuck did I just have to say to my child?
Then the irony. The horrible irony came from his mouth "But I will marry a Christian!"
My faith. My unwavering faith that Jesus died for our sins, making me a Christian, yet the very people oppressing his rights as a human. "But I will marry a Christian."
I can't go to the place that having a baby born to you, with a difference that is so out of the box it causes pure harit has. Look at whatever kid you see around you. If they just happen to be different to you, you want to take their human rights away? I can't do that. I raised a baby, to a child with kindness, compassion, empathy, caring, understanding, humour, good will, and grace. That child has friend from 1-100. He has friends that don't speak the same language. He has care for his family and sibling as any mother could only dream. I have the perfect child, who was born different, and even though he would be a better ambassador for the world than anyone for the job, we judge him.
We were on a flight and flying in business class. At some point Haven leaned over and asked "Why are so many people giving me mean looks?" I told him most kids don't fly in the front, they are just upset."
Haven's answer was "Does it cost more to sit up here? If people want to sit here, I will go back there no problem!"
That's Haven.
"You can't get married."
There are scientific proofs of what a child needs to be a productive member of society, a good parent, a contributing member, and we did that. We have a good role model of parenting success on paper. We have a parent role model, a happy home. We also have taught a faith and a way to live, and a way to treat others. My child picks up trash, doesn't discriminate, he has more friends of nationalities other than his own, he actually doesn't know one of his own descent!
My child..... Knew a girl was being bullied at school, and made an agreement with is friends. If his friends has a kid to play with, and this little girl doesn't, then he will go play with her. THAT is my child.
Kim Kardashian, and all those stupid holly wood bitches can get married for 5 hours, and it not be an issue, but my child, who will love an honour a wife until death. Will make the commitment as his parents have to cherish and honour his partner; raise his kids to be great people.. He can't get married, but everyone else can?
I never said it out loud.
I believe church and state need to be separate. Period. I didn't get "Transgender" until I had to live it, and now my empathy and sympathy for others only unfolded by a million. People don't "Get" things they don't live", only cementing my stand as an empiricist.
You don't "Get" homosexuality? That's cool, you probably can say you aren't gay. You don't get "transgender?" I get that, as only 90 kids out of 21 million are transgender. Cool, The reality is your ability to "Get" things are probably only what you have experienced, and that not being one is understandable. It doesn't make it less real, and it doesn't make your ignorance OK.
We are just who we are. I have learned that and many other lessons from a kid unlike other kids.
The day you have to tell your child they can't do something because of the way they were born, I just ask for a moment of thought. "You can't be you." Other's don't accept ir.
There are some stupid fucking Facebook groups about "Stop discrimination against tattooed people." Are you fucking KIDDING me? This is a choice! You weren't born with neck tattoos! I got a job first princesses, and if you didn't that's a bad judgement call. STFU!
My child can't get married. Even though he will support his children, love his wife, and honour his vows. I have never had to to say that, and now I did, and now I finally feel what it feels to hate the world.
My child will honour his wife, raise his kids to have respect, and be a contributing member of society. He will fallow Jesus, and care for others, and because of the way he was born he can't do what his parents role modelled to do. How the fuck is that right?
I held his hand and cried as I told him he can't get married.
Tuesday, 24 December 2013
The Lake
Lighting sparklers for Christmas with my kids in the courtyard. The smell immediately takes me to the Lake. My grandparent's summer cottage, that we spent our entire childhoods visiting.
The sparklers, the snakes on the wooden steps, the bigger fireworks for the bigger kids.
Dusk, the mosquitos attacking, Grandma's Skin So Soft which never worked, but we applied liberally anyways. Grandpa in his black leather chair with a small glass bowl of peanuts. Readers Digest, Polenta, and sausages, the lunch bell.
Lying on the single bed with my feet on the wood, playing the drums on the wood leading up the stair case. The velvet blanket on my bed, the squeaky springs.
Grandma's sewing machine, with the drawers of buttons, fishing on the dock. Getting a splinter and grandpa taking you to the office, putting on his head lamp magnifier. Thinking having said splinter removed is torture. Happy to be spending alone time with grandpa none the less.
The smell in the building, the old baby things. Sawdust, the smell of sawdust.
Playing on the potters wheel, wishing it would spin faster.
The sailboat, and the funny bugs that would sun themselves on it. Those moth things that stuck to everything. Wooden ducks. Spotting Loons.
Grandmas oatmeal with half and half and brown sugar. Green beans from the vegetable garden, grandpas Jeep. (I wanted that Jeep! May have fuelled my now obsession with them.)
The sound the water makes when it hits the bottom of the canoe, the water that splashed on you from the ores, feeling terrible when you get too tired and Grandpa had to row you all the way home.
The sound the car made going down the driveway, the linoleum in the back hall. Lying on the kitchen floor tracing the squares with my finger.
Always thinking there are bears outside after it got dark.
The hummingbirds, the light catchers, the tiny things that grandma kept.
Vanilla wafers under grandmas pillow when we left.
Her bedroom, and it being off limits to the kids, so when I got to enter, it was almost like a secret cave. Magical and smelled nice. The timers on the bedpost, the doilies, and nice pyjamas.
Big hanging pots of flowers that didn't smell so nice, but looked amazing, the feeling of the sun chairs with the hot soft mesh.
Quiet.
The sparklers, the snakes on the wooden steps, the bigger fireworks for the bigger kids.
Dusk, the mosquitos attacking, Grandma's Skin So Soft which never worked, but we applied liberally anyways. Grandpa in his black leather chair with a small glass bowl of peanuts. Readers Digest, Polenta, and sausages, the lunch bell.
Lying on the single bed with my feet on the wood, playing the drums on the wood leading up the stair case. The velvet blanket on my bed, the squeaky springs.
Grandma's sewing machine, with the drawers of buttons, fishing on the dock. Getting a splinter and grandpa taking you to the office, putting on his head lamp magnifier. Thinking having said splinter removed is torture. Happy to be spending alone time with grandpa none the less.
The smell in the building, the old baby things. Sawdust, the smell of sawdust.
Playing on the potters wheel, wishing it would spin faster.
The sailboat, and the funny bugs that would sun themselves on it. Those moth things that stuck to everything. Wooden ducks. Spotting Loons.
Grandmas oatmeal with half and half and brown sugar. Green beans from the vegetable garden, grandpas Jeep. (I wanted that Jeep! May have fuelled my now obsession with them.)
The sound the water makes when it hits the bottom of the canoe, the water that splashed on you from the ores, feeling terrible when you get too tired and Grandpa had to row you all the way home.
The sound the car made going down the driveway, the linoleum in the back hall. Lying on the kitchen floor tracing the squares with my finger.
Always thinking there are bears outside after it got dark.
The hummingbirds, the light catchers, the tiny things that grandma kept.
Vanilla wafers under grandmas pillow when we left.
Her bedroom, and it being off limits to the kids, so when I got to enter, it was almost like a secret cave. Magical and smelled nice. The timers on the bedpost, the doilies, and nice pyjamas.
Big hanging pots of flowers that didn't smell so nice, but looked amazing, the feeling of the sun chairs with the hot soft mesh.
Quiet.
Tuesday, 17 December 2013
Lego "Friends" is bullshit
I am not hard core feminist. I like that men and women are different, and think those differences should be embraced, not demolished.
However, lately it seems the toy world is not only dividing my kids by gender, but pummelling it into them, and it's getting ridicules.
I was really excited Lego was coming out with a more "girly" version of Lego. It was always very much my brothers toy, and I was happy to put some of that engineering creativity to my daughter, whom is highly intelligent. She however, DOES love pink. This love was not taught. I am not overly feminine, and her brother is her idol, so where this love came from is a bit unknown to me.
I was excited that girls could have those stupid little people with cylinder heads, and could now sit for hours using their brains to create cars, and planes like their male counterparts.... Lego Friends however, is anything but that..... Lego Friends is bullshit.
Where to start? Yep, it's a bit pink, and that says to my very feminine daughter "Hooray" So I am good with that, however upon opening the box I was a bit horrified. There are no cylindrical women, but actual dolls, with disturbing hip to waist ratios. Even my husband noticed how scary skinny the girls were. We don't have enough of that? Really? If Barbie were an actual woman, she would be 5'9" tall, have a 39" bust, an 18" waist, 33" hips and a size 3 shoe. Seems practical.
The second horror for my eyes, is that right in the ad I am looking at now, the only scenes for my daughter to construct are; City Café, City Pool, Pet Salon, Beach Buggy, and Olivia's Newborn Foal....... Well I know as a female, my day isn't complete without a trip to the Pet Salon.
Haven's Lego is pretty awesome, he has an airplane, a dump truck, multiple cars, and actual homes and buildings to create. Building "actual things" Makes a bit of sense.
The third horror is that the city is called "Heartlake City." Well that's great, because girls couldn't possibly live in cities called "Gotham, Metropolis, or Cleveland." Silly thought.
Olivia's Newborn Foal is great. Why build an actual farm, when the super-skinny Olivia can feed her foal a carrot. It might be cooler to get Olivia herself a carrot... or better yet a cheeseburger. You do know boys can like horses right? My super masculine, highly intelligent and successful husband had a horse. Jumped on a friends horse one day and jumped that bitch over a fence.... Now THAT is manly. But make sure Joliet doesn't waste her time with building actual barns or housing structures. Foals are where it's at for a successful career.
I have my own bitchings about the new "boys'" Lego as well. I mean, the three advertised under the bullshit Lego Friends, completely advertised separately as to not mistake gender roles are; "Battle at the black gate, The Wizard battle, and Pirate ship Ambush." Not thinking they live at Heartlake City! What happened to just building cool stuff?
9 our of 10 Engineers are male. That's stupid. And I am thinking there is a reason. I take great pride in being a wife and mother. I find it a humans highest calling as a matter of fact. If my girls chose to not go that route, that's cool. Let's make sure they have some foundations to become successful in any career they want. I get Joliet loves princesses, but we don't know Harry or what's his name, and that shit doesn't actually look fun. I would rather she has a career she can be proud of and that uses a bit more of her brain than feeding a foal, playing at the pool, or sitting on a yacht. Yes, the Lego Friends Yacht! Haven will build the Search and Rescue Boats to come save the poor girls, who when they fall over the side of their yacht, their super sized heads, and lack of body fat, or any muscle tone what-so-ever, they will inevitably drown. So good thing Haven is there to rescue them.
However, lately it seems the toy world is not only dividing my kids by gender, but pummelling it into them, and it's getting ridicules.
I was really excited Lego was coming out with a more "girly" version of Lego. It was always very much my brothers toy, and I was happy to put some of that engineering creativity to my daughter, whom is highly intelligent. She however, DOES love pink. This love was not taught. I am not overly feminine, and her brother is her idol, so where this love came from is a bit unknown to me.
I was excited that girls could have those stupid little people with cylinder heads, and could now sit for hours using their brains to create cars, and planes like their male counterparts.... Lego Friends however, is anything but that..... Lego Friends is bullshit.
Where to start? Yep, it's a bit pink, and that says to my very feminine daughter "Hooray" So I am good with that, however upon opening the box I was a bit horrified. There are no cylindrical women, but actual dolls, with disturbing hip to waist ratios. Even my husband noticed how scary skinny the girls were. We don't have enough of that? Really? If Barbie were an actual woman, she would be 5'9" tall, have a 39" bust, an 18" waist, 33" hips and a size 3 shoe. Seems practical.
The second horror for my eyes, is that right in the ad I am looking at now, the only scenes for my daughter to construct are; City Café, City Pool, Pet Salon, Beach Buggy, and Olivia's Newborn Foal....... Well I know as a female, my day isn't complete without a trip to the Pet Salon.
Haven's Lego is pretty awesome, he has an airplane, a dump truck, multiple cars, and actual homes and buildings to create. Building "actual things" Makes a bit of sense.
The third horror is that the city is called "Heartlake City." Well that's great, because girls couldn't possibly live in cities called "Gotham, Metropolis, or Cleveland." Silly thought.
Olivia's Newborn Foal is great. Why build an actual farm, when the super-skinny Olivia can feed her foal a carrot. It might be cooler to get Olivia herself a carrot... or better yet a cheeseburger. You do know boys can like horses right? My super masculine, highly intelligent and successful husband had a horse. Jumped on a friends horse one day and jumped that bitch over a fence.... Now THAT is manly. But make sure Joliet doesn't waste her time with building actual barns or housing structures. Foals are where it's at for a successful career.
I have my own bitchings about the new "boys'" Lego as well. I mean, the three advertised under the bullshit Lego Friends, completely advertised separately as to not mistake gender roles are; "Battle at the black gate, The Wizard battle, and Pirate ship Ambush." Not thinking they live at Heartlake City! What happened to just building cool stuff?
9 our of 10 Engineers are male. That's stupid. And I am thinking there is a reason. I take great pride in being a wife and mother. I find it a humans highest calling as a matter of fact. If my girls chose to not go that route, that's cool. Let's make sure they have some foundations to become successful in any career they want. I get Joliet loves princesses, but we don't know Harry or what's his name, and that shit doesn't actually look fun. I would rather she has a career she can be proud of and that uses a bit more of her brain than feeding a foal, playing at the pool, or sitting on a yacht. Yes, the Lego Friends Yacht! Haven will build the Search and Rescue Boats to come save the poor girls, who when they fall over the side of their yacht, their super sized heads, and lack of body fat, or any muscle tone what-so-ever, they will inevitably drown. So good thing Haven is there to rescue them.
Friday, 6 December 2013
Fatty Mc.Fat
I am Fatty Mc. Fat
So book sales on release date are poo. I took it completely personally. I thought my Aussie friends were really supporting me, when in reality they are being supportive in thought. But, but, I would have supported YOU, and bought YOUR book. I mean, why not think it's cool to even own a crap book written by a friend?
That's cool, but the book is $20. In Oz we blow our nose with $20. No literally, this country is so expensive you could never imagine. I went back to America and got a bagel and an orange juice at the airport. She said "That'll be $6.00" I was all "Did you get the orange juice?" She goes "You would pay $6.00 for a BAGEL??" Honey I would pay $6.00 for the orange juice!!!
It's cool, I'm trucking on.
I love food. That's why I wrote the book. For a skinny chick, my love affair with food has been an amazing love affair journey, and THAT is why I wrote the book.
I was raised right, and never drank soda, or had candy. I ate well, had a mother that cooked our meals. And then the divorce, and her work schedule, and my fathers absence, and my inability to think I am good enough, or pretty or thin. Then her death and my alcohol addiction. I went through the motions. I got heavy as a mammoth, and witnessed first hand what it feels like to be huge. I know the cycle of hating yourself for eating, then feeling so bad, and eating to make the pain stop. I got that.
In my new life with food, I don't just feed my mouth, or my stomach, I feed my soul. HOW CORNEY! I know, it's so true.
I LOVE food. I refuse to eat what I don't adore, and this was especially true when I was pregnant. My husband will never again buy me cake as I would cry if he got the wrong one. CRY!!!!!!
It's just so different and beautiful now. I cook what I desire, and feed my family food of love. Celery and rice cakes to keep up thin? Hell to the NO! I feed us amazing, exquisite, violently delicious food. I savour it, taste it, linger in it. When I have a 3 year old close her eyes with happiness of taste my heart jumps. "My mom is the best cooker!" I got tonight. I am the best cooker :)
I have gotten from a binge eating, eating for self loating, eating to numb myself Fatty Mc. Fat. To a thin, healthy, cook, who eats better than any chubba out there. I eat amazing, because I found a healthy relationship with food. DIETS DON'T WORK. Diets end. And being some super skinny size 2 is not a healthy outlook. "But I was a size 4 in high school." Bitch you 40, let that goooooo. Be happy with you now. Healthy doesn't need to be anorexic, it needs to be fed to content without excess. That's it. It looks different on all of us, so don't look at my size, or Miranda Kerr size, or your best friends size to be your size. Stop it. JUST STOP IT!!!!!
Eating.
Sometimes I don't eat breakfast because I'm not hungry in the morning. That's it. Am I hungry? Nope? OK then not gonna eat. "80% of obese people skip breakfast" Well I'm not obese. Are you skipping to "save calories?" Or are you not hungry? HUGE difference.
Lunch? I eat a sandwich, or half a sandwich, or tortilla and cheese, or whatever I want. But after half the meal I ask if I am really still hungry?
My dinner? My dinner is shared with my family. The epicenter of my universe. I will give them my love in this meal and it is planned with care.
I write weekly menus and shopping lists (In the friggin' book) So I save money and time enough to do this.
I pick food and recipes that make me salivate. Entice me to the center. THAT is what I cook.
I wont eat food that I don't love, and when I do I get teary. I get angry! We only have so many meals in our lives, so why not eat food that is amazing?!
I now have learned to cook, because after a few "omg Laura, this is psycho good." You get a kick from cooking. You keep trying harder and harder to get your family to give you the thumbs up and empty plate. It's OK to learn to cook for vanity! Hell, whatever works.
I don't look at food with my kids as other mothers do. Kids go through growth spurt and have ZERO misconceptions about food. No matter how good or high calorie, or fatty, they are programmed to eat when they are hungry, and stop when they are full. Their palates are virgin, and enjoy pure, clean tastes. YOU have issues with food, they don't. Some days my kids eat 4 meals a day, they finish their plates and ask for more. Most days, they eat 3 bites at dinner, and bring home half their lunch. This is normal. This is listening to your body, and only eating when you need. The Food Pyramid was made my Kellogg. If you can't digest that sentence, please ponder it until you do. A corporation profiting in FOOD, can not tell you what to eat. Anyways it's batshit upside down. Fuck a food pyramid. Fuck a Three meal a day and 2 snack consisting of 3 veg, 4 fruit, 1 meat diet. You eat what your body tells it to when it tells it to. Emotions have no place in food. Except when you can love it.
When you love every meal you eat, you are never deprived by a smaller portion, because your brain knows the next meal will be just as amazing as the last. This is the best food you ever had? That's cool! Next meal will be just as good, so eating more than you need is unnecessary.
I decided not to be a celebrity chef, or a nutritionist, or a doctor. I am just a mom, and an ex-fatty, that figured it out with non-bullshit ideas and ways to live. That's it.
I hope you can get to this place too. And if you need help? laurasfoodfight.com, and $20 can help!
Merry Christmas!
Laura
So book sales on release date are poo. I took it completely personally. I thought my Aussie friends were really supporting me, when in reality they are being supportive in thought. But, but, I would have supported YOU, and bought YOUR book. I mean, why not think it's cool to even own a crap book written by a friend?
That's cool, but the book is $20. In Oz we blow our nose with $20. No literally, this country is so expensive you could never imagine. I went back to America and got a bagel and an orange juice at the airport. She said "That'll be $6.00" I was all "Did you get the orange juice?" She goes "You would pay $6.00 for a BAGEL??" Honey I would pay $6.00 for the orange juice!!!
It's cool, I'm trucking on.
I love food. That's why I wrote the book. For a skinny chick, my love affair with food has been an amazing love affair journey, and THAT is why I wrote the book.
I was raised right, and never drank soda, or had candy. I ate well, had a mother that cooked our meals. And then the divorce, and her work schedule, and my fathers absence, and my inability to think I am good enough, or pretty or thin. Then her death and my alcohol addiction. I went through the motions. I got heavy as a mammoth, and witnessed first hand what it feels like to be huge. I know the cycle of hating yourself for eating, then feeling so bad, and eating to make the pain stop. I got that.
In my new life with food, I don't just feed my mouth, or my stomach, I feed my soul. HOW CORNEY! I know, it's so true.
I LOVE food. I refuse to eat what I don't adore, and this was especially true when I was pregnant. My husband will never again buy me cake as I would cry if he got the wrong one. CRY!!!!!!
It's just so different and beautiful now. I cook what I desire, and feed my family food of love. Celery and rice cakes to keep up thin? Hell to the NO! I feed us amazing, exquisite, violently delicious food. I savour it, taste it, linger in it. When I have a 3 year old close her eyes with happiness of taste my heart jumps. "My mom is the best cooker!" I got tonight. I am the best cooker :)
I have gotten from a binge eating, eating for self loating, eating to numb myself Fatty Mc. Fat. To a thin, healthy, cook, who eats better than any chubba out there. I eat amazing, because I found a healthy relationship with food. DIETS DON'T WORK. Diets end. And being some super skinny size 2 is not a healthy outlook. "But I was a size 4 in high school." Bitch you 40, let that goooooo. Be happy with you now. Healthy doesn't need to be anorexic, it needs to be fed to content without excess. That's it. It looks different on all of us, so don't look at my size, or Miranda Kerr size, or your best friends size to be your size. Stop it. JUST STOP IT!!!!!
Eating.
Sometimes I don't eat breakfast because I'm not hungry in the morning. That's it. Am I hungry? Nope? OK then not gonna eat. "80% of obese people skip breakfast" Well I'm not obese. Are you skipping to "save calories?" Or are you not hungry? HUGE difference.
Lunch? I eat a sandwich, or half a sandwich, or tortilla and cheese, or whatever I want. But after half the meal I ask if I am really still hungry?
My dinner? My dinner is shared with my family. The epicenter of my universe. I will give them my love in this meal and it is planned with care.
I write weekly menus and shopping lists (In the friggin' book) So I save money and time enough to do this.
I pick food and recipes that make me salivate. Entice me to the center. THAT is what I cook.
I wont eat food that I don't love, and when I do I get teary. I get angry! We only have so many meals in our lives, so why not eat food that is amazing?!
I now have learned to cook, because after a few "omg Laura, this is psycho good." You get a kick from cooking. You keep trying harder and harder to get your family to give you the thumbs up and empty plate. It's OK to learn to cook for vanity! Hell, whatever works.
I don't look at food with my kids as other mothers do. Kids go through growth spurt and have ZERO misconceptions about food. No matter how good or high calorie, or fatty, they are programmed to eat when they are hungry, and stop when they are full. Their palates are virgin, and enjoy pure, clean tastes. YOU have issues with food, they don't. Some days my kids eat 4 meals a day, they finish their plates and ask for more. Most days, they eat 3 bites at dinner, and bring home half their lunch. This is normal. This is listening to your body, and only eating when you need. The Food Pyramid was made my Kellogg. If you can't digest that sentence, please ponder it until you do. A corporation profiting in FOOD, can not tell you what to eat. Anyways it's batshit upside down. Fuck a food pyramid. Fuck a Three meal a day and 2 snack consisting of 3 veg, 4 fruit, 1 meat diet. You eat what your body tells it to when it tells it to. Emotions have no place in food. Except when you can love it.
When you love every meal you eat, you are never deprived by a smaller portion, because your brain knows the next meal will be just as amazing as the last. This is the best food you ever had? That's cool! Next meal will be just as good, so eating more than you need is unnecessary.
I decided not to be a celebrity chef, or a nutritionist, or a doctor. I am just a mom, and an ex-fatty, that figured it out with non-bullshit ideas and ways to live. That's it.
I hope you can get to this place too. And if you need help? laurasfoodfight.com, and $20 can help!
Merry Christmas!
Laura
Friday, 29 November 2013
And I run...
And I run-
It's been 2 years now, so it's fully time to jump ship. I will leave again in a month. Do I hate it here? Did I not make friends? Quite the opposite. I love it here. The people in Melbourne I have met again, another family. Friends of such amazing character and love that I humble to be a part of this. These people, Haven's school, the adventures and experiences. But it's time to go again. Again, again, again.
I have never lived in the same spot longer than 2 years in my life. 2 years. Except childhood, and in that I attended 11 schools in 12 years. The new school just as scary as the last, but either good or bad it was an experience to be had and learned from.
Mom died at 18, and it was just fucking make it from then on, never feeling at "home" again for years. "Home" was where I was and I would just be until I moved to the next place.
I fallowed people on any adventure "Let's quit our jobs and go to Florida" Ok. Let's do that. 3 months later. Broke and unemployed and thrilled with my adventure, I went back to the temporary home. At some point in the trip I had let go of my fears, and just stood on the beach, with the waves crashing my feet and it was "standing in a hole." The waves would wash over them and deeper and deeper I would go in the sand. The serenity found in standing in that hole. I think I have always been chasing that feeling. Standing in a hole.
The world is so hectic and if I think of the reality of the world, and the pollution, and animals, and toxic life we leave I literally anxiety myself to delirium. It's not right. You can't have kids and think " This is gonna work out well for you!" So I want to DO as much as I can until this time here is up.
We're leaving again.
I can't tell you how many places I have lived in my life. Countless homes. Countless addresses. I said at one point I left Denver because I dated every available man in the state and had to leave to find a boyfriend. I would say that it was too hot or too cold or too expensive, so I would move again. Then I met my husband who has the same love of leaving.
But when I left before I was running. I was running away from myself and the chaos I created. I would create drama and a story of amazing proportion. I would have this insane life that was always so hard.
This is different. My life as an adult is much calmer, and not so X rated. My new life is as spontaneous as ever, but more as now I'm not broke. "Pack up we're leaving for the weekend." Where are we going? "South."
The life now is still picking a point on the map and going there to find the adventure that zip code has to offer. By doing this, I have met people you would never understand. I have seen things no one has seen. Been to a glow worm tunnel? Yea, that was a Thursday.
My entire life I have felt I was searching for something. I got off the plane in Australia and felt like this is what I was searching for. Yet 5 years on, and my 4th address, 3rd state.
This to me is an adventure, but I wonder what my kids feel about this. I see it as all a learning experience. You can't KNOW until you do. You can't UNDERSTAND until you have lived it, and it scares the shit out of me my kid's don't see it that way. Maybe they see it as instability?
Maybe I have instability or feed off of that? Why do I need to analyze it all?
I had made friends in Sydney that I would die for. Amazing family like friendships. I left. I have American friendships that I would still give my life for now and forever, but I left. I have friends in Melbourne that I would surrogate children for, and too love as family. Now I leave again.
I can justify. Our next year is living at the fucking Four Seasons in a house you can't imagine. I can justify like you wouldn't believe why I leave, but at the same time I wonder why I see living in the same place for 30 years as a death sentence. 30 years in the SAME place?
I hope my kids can see it my way, or I can find out why I need to leave always to fulfill myself. This life is amazing. Crazy and fun, and never dull.
To the next adventure! And seriously, come visit this time, as this is the coolest yet!
Thursday, 28 November 2013
Thursday, 21 November 2013
Longing and Death
I keep waiting for my Mom.
I'm 32 years old, and I still need my mother so desperately. I keep doing cool stuff, so I keep looking for that affirmation, reassurance, guidance, that "way to go Laura." I still need that and being sentenced to a life without it down right sucks!
I need her to see my kids, attend my wedding, read my book, look at how hot a husband I got.
I need her to taste my food, and see my successes.
I can see her eyes when they get teary from pride. I remember her being proud of me for whatever. I wasn't much of a productive member of society, so every minute reason I could give her to be proud she would be. "Hell, Laura finished her peas. Good girl!"
Whatever, I took it.
When your only cheerleader dies, that need for approval doesn't die. You just get none.
Tough S^&* sweetheart you're on your own!
When people die you have unfinished business with, it sure is a kick in the lip! That can go wither way. I still am waiting for my dead dad to apologize and tell me I was worthy of being loved, or that he loved me! Yea, that's gonna go well.
Being an adult sucks. Knowing life is only what you make it, and that no one can determine your self worth but you is very bitter. I keep looking for them and they don't seem to be making any appearances.
Lately my 3 year old has been obsessed with death and I honestly don't know why. We don't talk about it, or watch shows about it. I don't talk about my parents, but for the last 3 months she asks constantly...... I know why, she had a dream Juneaux died, and she was so hysterical we had to hold her for 2 hours in the middle of the night. She was sobbing and trembling with fear. I thought that was just a saying, but my kid was trembling with fear.
She said "Do you ever have dreams?"
Yes baby.
"Do you ever have die dreams?"
...................omg
She said they were in the bath and Juneaux went under the water. Poor kid. She was horrified.
So now she keeps asking, literally out of nowhere "Is your mom still dead?" Like creepy.
She has a way of doing that.
One day I was lying in bed on holiday and she was in a roll out bed next to me. I was almost asleep and she said "You don't want another baby, you just want Titus."
The fuck kid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So creepy it up little soul. You're right.
I don't want to leave them with some un-fulfilled adoration from me, and that may be why I abuse them with love, feel so desperately guilty when I yell, and walk around with a constant fear of screwing them up. I can't leave them not knowing how amazing they are.
I started smoking again. OK, OK, calm down. And even though I know it won't just take me out immediately, it now has this impending doom attached to it, not for me, but for my kids. Will it take me out, before I fill them with what they need? Will I ever fill them? Is filling a child even fucking possible?
You are kind, you are funny, you are smart, you are wonderful, you are great, you are perfect....
I miss my mom.
Right now... "Joliet do you know you're wonderful?"
Jo "Yes, do you know I'm wonderful?"
Yes.
Jo "Your so beautiful"................................. Go pick your pony Jo.... Go pick your pony.
I wish my mom could hear that.
I'm 32 years old, and I still need my mother so desperately. I keep doing cool stuff, so I keep looking for that affirmation, reassurance, guidance, that "way to go Laura." I still need that and being sentenced to a life without it down right sucks!
I need her to see my kids, attend my wedding, read my book, look at how hot a husband I got.
I need her to taste my food, and see my successes.
I can see her eyes when they get teary from pride. I remember her being proud of me for whatever. I wasn't much of a productive member of society, so every minute reason I could give her to be proud she would be. "Hell, Laura finished her peas. Good girl!"
Whatever, I took it.
When your only cheerleader dies, that need for approval doesn't die. You just get none.
Tough S^&* sweetheart you're on your own!
When people die you have unfinished business with, it sure is a kick in the lip! That can go wither way. I still am waiting for my dead dad to apologize and tell me I was worthy of being loved, or that he loved me! Yea, that's gonna go well.
Being an adult sucks. Knowing life is only what you make it, and that no one can determine your self worth but you is very bitter. I keep looking for them and they don't seem to be making any appearances.
Lately my 3 year old has been obsessed with death and I honestly don't know why. We don't talk about it, or watch shows about it. I don't talk about my parents, but for the last 3 months she asks constantly...... I know why, she had a dream Juneaux died, and she was so hysterical we had to hold her for 2 hours in the middle of the night. She was sobbing and trembling with fear. I thought that was just a saying, but my kid was trembling with fear.
She said "Do you ever have dreams?"
Yes baby.
"Do you ever have die dreams?"
...................omg
She said they were in the bath and Juneaux went under the water. Poor kid. She was horrified.
So now she keeps asking, literally out of nowhere "Is your mom still dead?" Like creepy.
She has a way of doing that.
One day I was lying in bed on holiday and she was in a roll out bed next to me. I was almost asleep and she said "You don't want another baby, you just want Titus."
The fuck kid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So creepy it up little soul. You're right.
I don't want to leave them with some un-fulfilled adoration from me, and that may be why I abuse them with love, feel so desperately guilty when I yell, and walk around with a constant fear of screwing them up. I can't leave them not knowing how amazing they are.
I started smoking again. OK, OK, calm down. And even though I know it won't just take me out immediately, it now has this impending doom attached to it, not for me, but for my kids. Will it take me out, before I fill them with what they need? Will I ever fill them? Is filling a child even fucking possible?
You are kind, you are funny, you are smart, you are wonderful, you are great, you are perfect....
I miss my mom.
Right now... "Joliet do you know you're wonderful?"
Jo "Yes, do you know I'm wonderful?"
Yes.
Jo "Your so beautiful"................................. Go pick your pony Jo.... Go pick your pony.
I wish my mom could hear that.
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
Beauty
My children are beautiful. Deny it! I dare you. Have you seen them?
I can say that shit, as none of them look like me!
I had a woman on a plane go "I'm sorry for staring but your son looks so much like your husband it's uncanny."
"Thanks," I say "But she's a girl."
"Nooooo, your son!"
She ment Haven. Dude he's adopted!
I get that all the time. Haven looks just like James! (His adopted child)
And yea, Joliet is what happens when God get's bored making faces, so he re-printed James' face and added blue eyes and a vagina. Joliet is the re-incarnation of my husband down to his weird hands.
The Juneaux, who is this creepy, big eyes, baby that baby commercials are made from. What gives?
And what exactly is my issue if my kids are so "beautiful?"
I can look back on my insane life with perfect 20/20 vision. I can map out what happened to make which event take place, to affect which people, to cause which result into the future. Do you know, I can blame myself for a man cheating on his wife 10 years later, because of my distain for men and inability to be loved, from my not feeling good enough about myself, from a father that wasn't there? Now THAT is impressive.
I can fight you to the death, but I will go back and re-analyse after the fight to find the heart of the issue. Mostly my fault mind you.
I feel the greatest human tragedy is the inability to accept personal responsibility.
I can DO that....... maybe not straight away, but I got you.
You can even look back on a fight you and I have personally got into, and believe it or not, I have gone back and found my part....
So who care's if my kids are beautiful?
I guess I am scared for them. Everyone wants beautiful kids, but I feel it's for selfish reasons "Look how beautiful my baby is, therefore I must be beautiful to produce this."
But what does that mean in the future?
Juneaux scares the shit out of me. She has these eyes, that at 6 months, pierce through you like daggers. Like she will be able to control people with her beauty. She is seriously scary.
So what? So I don't want my kids to use that, or be taken advantage of because of that, or to do harm with that.
I am scared for what they will do with that.
Will they trust they are beautiful? Will they base their looks on others opinions of them? Will they manipulate others with that? Will they be used for that? Hell, being a parent is hard.
My kids aren't cute? Haven has 7 year old girls who want to marry him KNOWING he's trans. The kid is damn good-looking.
Joliet started off shaky, but looks like a freaky gap kid model, and Juneaux just grosses people out that I got 3 that attractive. I heard that. "That's not fair, all 3 are good looking."
So what do I do? I tell them they are everything but. Smart, strong, talented, caring, patient, kind, empathetic, intelligent, motivated, athletic.....but I still say beautiful.
With my whole life based on my appearance I am so confused how to parent kids without that being in their vocabulary. Because it was a baseline in my self worth.
Pretty and bright. I remember the first time a stranger didn't comment on my looks. It was my date to 9th grade home comings mother. She did not mention I was pretty. What the fuck. I remember because it was a constant, and when it wasn't there I was crushed. What a stupid thing to worry about! If someone thinks you are pretty!!!!
At 32, fuck being pretty, tell me I am smart, or determined. I want spontaneous, creative, and kind. I don't care if you think I'm pretty, I am a badass for lot's of reasons. Being attractive isn't one of them. With a world of beauty and measuring up, how do I stray these beautiful being away form that being their definitions?
You ARE beautiful, but you are bold first. You are creative first, you are athletic first. How do you give them a different first?
Boo hoo Laura with your pretty kids. Dude, they don't look like me, I got nothing to do with it, but I do have something to do with them becoming adults. Productive, thriving adults......
So who care's right? What do I do with beautiful?
I can say that shit, as none of them look like me!
I had a woman on a plane go "I'm sorry for staring but your son looks so much like your husband it's uncanny."
"Thanks," I say "But she's a girl."
"Nooooo, your son!"
She ment Haven. Dude he's adopted!
I get that all the time. Haven looks just like James! (His adopted child)
And yea, Joliet is what happens when God get's bored making faces, so he re-printed James' face and added blue eyes and a vagina. Joliet is the re-incarnation of my husband down to his weird hands.
The Juneaux, who is this creepy, big eyes, baby that baby commercials are made from. What gives?
And what exactly is my issue if my kids are so "beautiful?"
I can look back on my insane life with perfect 20/20 vision. I can map out what happened to make which event take place, to affect which people, to cause which result into the future. Do you know, I can blame myself for a man cheating on his wife 10 years later, because of my distain for men and inability to be loved, from my not feeling good enough about myself, from a father that wasn't there? Now THAT is impressive.
I can fight you to the death, but I will go back and re-analyse after the fight to find the heart of the issue. Mostly my fault mind you.
I feel the greatest human tragedy is the inability to accept personal responsibility.
I can DO that....... maybe not straight away, but I got you.
You can even look back on a fight you and I have personally got into, and believe it or not, I have gone back and found my part....
So who care's if my kids are beautiful?
I guess I am scared for them. Everyone wants beautiful kids, but I feel it's for selfish reasons "Look how beautiful my baby is, therefore I must be beautiful to produce this."
But what does that mean in the future?
Juneaux scares the shit out of me. She has these eyes, that at 6 months, pierce through you like daggers. Like she will be able to control people with her beauty. She is seriously scary.
So what? So I don't want my kids to use that, or be taken advantage of because of that, or to do harm with that.
I am scared for what they will do with that.
Will they trust they are beautiful? Will they base their looks on others opinions of them? Will they manipulate others with that? Will they be used for that? Hell, being a parent is hard.
My kids aren't cute? Haven has 7 year old girls who want to marry him KNOWING he's trans. The kid is damn good-looking.
Joliet started off shaky, but looks like a freaky gap kid model, and Juneaux just grosses people out that I got 3 that attractive. I heard that. "That's not fair, all 3 are good looking."
So what do I do? I tell them they are everything but. Smart, strong, talented, caring, patient, kind, empathetic, intelligent, motivated, athletic.....but I still say beautiful.
With my whole life based on my appearance I am so confused how to parent kids without that being in their vocabulary. Because it was a baseline in my self worth.
Pretty and bright. I remember the first time a stranger didn't comment on my looks. It was my date to 9th grade home comings mother. She did not mention I was pretty. What the fuck. I remember because it was a constant, and when it wasn't there I was crushed. What a stupid thing to worry about! If someone thinks you are pretty!!!!
At 32, fuck being pretty, tell me I am smart, or determined. I want spontaneous, creative, and kind. I don't care if you think I'm pretty, I am a badass for lot's of reasons. Being attractive isn't one of them. With a world of beauty and measuring up, how do I stray these beautiful being away form that being their definitions?
You ARE beautiful, but you are bold first. You are creative first, you are athletic first. How do you give them a different first?
Boo hoo Laura with your pretty kids. Dude, they don't look like me, I got nothing to do with it, but I do have something to do with them becoming adults. Productive, thriving adults......
So who care's right? What do I do with beautiful?
Thursday, 14 November 2013
Don't scroll down
Don’t Scroll Down-
The internet is amazing for so many reasons, c’mon. I remember watching a commercial 15 years ago
that said “one day you will give an email address instead of a phone number.” I laughed.
Yea, the internet is amazing.
The issue, is this alter ego people assume that for some reason, has the audacity
to say things that they would be punched in the face for in reality. Anonymity
is not a positive, when those that chose to hurt, can hide behind it. So what
baseline do we judge ourselves with, when determining our childrens ability to express themselves? How much do you
take in when living your life with a trans child?
Jack Fuck Face wrote
under a beautifully written article about a trans child, “Worst form of child
abuse.” (This was my moment of
enlightenment.) This comment I read cut
me like blades in my eyes. But, Jack Fuck face would not say that if 2 things
had happened. 1. He spent 2 minutes in
my house or 2. He was saying that to my face, as I would groin kick him to the
point his kids had belly aches. Jack Fuck Face isn’t real. At what
point do you hear the opinions or not?
Another one, was a man being interviewed saying trans kids
should be put to death. Right. Way to be informed. Even though this shit is
stupid, it still hurts! It hurts because
your friends and family hear that crap too!!!
I challenge you to stop scrolling down. Rolling that thing on your mouse does not
change your reality. The people in your
life who accept or do not, will not change by reading others’ stupid ignorant
opinions. I no longer scroll down.
The last time I scrolled down I read “Worst form of child
abuse.” Screw you Jack Fuck Face. You are as important to my life as I am to
yours. You don’t know me! Feel free to say that like a gangster! You don’t know me! Empower yourself with the fact, their opinion
is as relevant as yours is to micro worm farming in Japan. You don’t know shit about it.
So please stop scrolling down. We are amazing and equal, and relevant, and
happy and healthy as anyone.
One quick comment.
Have you realised which kid of yours was trans? Not the fragile one huh? God did not chose the weaker, fragile
child. He chose the badass!
Tuesday, 12 November 2013
My new eyes
My new eyes-
The gift from a transgender son
When you list off all the things you wish for your beautiful
baby lying in your arms, conflict with their body is not one. You pray for their happiness, their love,
their career. You pray they are healthy,
and have an easy transition at school and make friends easy. You pray they find
peace, and fit in, and do well in school.
Not this. Not to be in conflict
with their body.
I can say with some assurance I have always supported my
child. Supported? Yes, wanted this and accepted this
fully? No. “Your child has gender identity
disorder.” Huh….. That’s not right. So my baby is that? 80% of
kids grow out of it….. Ok then, we will support until he decides this was
all just a big mistake.
Maybe when we shave
his hair off, he will feel strange and decide to be a girl…. Well that
didn’t happen.
Maybe when we let him
shop in the boys department, he will feel uncomfortable and decide maybe he is
a girl….. No. Not that either.
When we start using
the male pronouns at school, and when everyone says “he” this will all change,
and he will be my daughter….. Instead.
He is free.
Supportive, yes.
Scared as all hell for the future his life will hold…yes…. Oh God
why?!
So we changed. I
always say that we transition, not our child. They are just being them, we have to
change. I said it, and ment it, and
tried it, and faked it… Until one day, I woke up with new eyes.
I used “he” with a smile and a cringe inside. I sent him to school that first day, crying
the whole way home believing I sent my child to the wolves and was about to
ruin his life letting him do this! I
can’t just let him use the boys toilets when everyone knows he’s female! I can’t just let his friends outcast him and
bully him and make fun of this kind, sweet child! I must be the worst mother
ever! But listening to his pleas to be
male since 18 months old. His
convictions of his reality. His begging
with God and me to make him male, and when will his penis grow, and how God
made a mistake. The kid said if I don’t
let him be boy he’s moving to
Canada. Canada? Really?
It has been a year, and my new eyes are here.
I was faking it until I made it. And I have made it. So has he.
I could use “he” and “his” with fluency, and only mildly
contemplate it in my brain. But now, one
year later. A new woman has
emerged. This child is finally my
son.
Not just my son, but the son I always wanted! If I could write out my perfect kid on paper…
THIS WOULD BE HIM. Not only do I now
have a son, I have a perfect, amazing boy, who I adore and cherish and fawn
over. These are my new eyes.
I meet new parents of the little kids, and ache again for
them, because I will remember the weight of the reality forever. That time of uncertainty and fear. This ache on your heart and guessing yourself
and your child. I remember that. That is why I will always be a part of
whatever support group I can. I will be
here for any parent, until they get the gift of their new eyes.
See, God didn’t make a mistake when creating my child. God knew this kid was just badass enough to
go through this, learn from this, and teach others with it. Including me.
Me! The one who thought she was
all open-minded and go with the flow, and accept everyone…until it’s your kid,
and the knowledge the world SUCKS and you don’t want your kid thrown in that!
Me. He is badass enough to teach me.
So please parent’s be patient. Do not be upset or guilty with the questions
you have and pain you feel. You don’t
want this for your baby. That sleeping
baby in your arms. But your child too,
is badass enough to do this. You are
amazing enough to support them. We are
all here together, and can go at it as one.
I love my new eyes.
The eyes that see a happy, healthy, outgoing, funny, annoying, pestering,
cheeky little monkey of a child. The
eyes that after much deliberation, fear, guilt, pain, ache, and trepidation……
are now open, to the fact I have a son….
Thursday, 7 November 2013
Joy, love, goodness, kindness, patience, self control, peace, faithfulness, gentleness.....
I am learning, not "Why me?" But "What do you want me to learn from this?"
I am also learning that every temptation, or obstacle- gives you the ability to chose one of these gifts. I have to chose to react with joy, love, goodness, kindness, patience, self control, peace, faithfulness and gentleness. It's a choice.............That sucks.
My new obstacle is that I just got 250 books from the printer, completely screwed up. $2,300 worth or recyclable paper in my garage. Worthless.
I tried to react with patience and self control. I tried kindness, and it didn't work. They refuse to do anything.
During this book- I hired a photographer who agreed to photograph for portfolio work. After shooting, holding my pictures hostage- demanded $2500...... Really?
I got an editor, who I trusted-charging me $2500 when I come to find out the going rate is about $600..... Really?
Now, the printer.... and I'm sad.
So I cried out "What lesson do you want me to learn from this?"
First thing that comes to mind is that I need to protect myself, make wiser decisions, be more careful, get contracts? I hate that the level of integrity in 2013 in the whole of the world is so low, you need contracts! Why is trusting people such a bad virtue to carry? I trust people therefor I am an idiot.
Why does this lesson have to cost my husband so much money? It makes him give me the look of disappointment. That mom look, of "Really?" Not anger, he respects that I trust people, but I am sure he is over getting stuck with the bill.
Do I just give up? I worked sooooo hard. This idea came when I woke up one morning and I was compelled to write this. Fully out of my control, giddy with excitement, grabbed a notebook and filled it laughing and screaming how excited I was to do this. I hit some road blocks, but pushed my ass through.... I am pretty sure the lesson is not to give up on the last lap.
I wish I could teach my children trust. I would NEVER do this to you, so I assume you wouldn't do it to me. That's not the case.
Joy, Love, Peace, Kindness, Goodness, Patience, Self Control, Faithfulness, Gentleness.............
God what am I supposed to learn from this?
I am learning, not "Why me?" But "What do you want me to learn from this?"
I am also learning that every temptation, or obstacle- gives you the ability to chose one of these gifts. I have to chose to react with joy, love, goodness, kindness, patience, self control, peace, faithfulness and gentleness. It's a choice.............That sucks.
My new obstacle is that I just got 250 books from the printer, completely screwed up. $2,300 worth or recyclable paper in my garage. Worthless.
I tried to react with patience and self control. I tried kindness, and it didn't work. They refuse to do anything.
During this book- I hired a photographer who agreed to photograph for portfolio work. After shooting, holding my pictures hostage- demanded $2500...... Really?
I got an editor, who I trusted-charging me $2500 when I come to find out the going rate is about $600..... Really?
Now, the printer.... and I'm sad.
So I cried out "What lesson do you want me to learn from this?"
First thing that comes to mind is that I need to protect myself, make wiser decisions, be more careful, get contracts? I hate that the level of integrity in 2013 in the whole of the world is so low, you need contracts! Why is trusting people such a bad virtue to carry? I trust people therefor I am an idiot.
Why does this lesson have to cost my husband so much money? It makes him give me the look of disappointment. That mom look, of "Really?" Not anger, he respects that I trust people, but I am sure he is over getting stuck with the bill.
Do I just give up? I worked sooooo hard. This idea came when I woke up one morning and I was compelled to write this. Fully out of my control, giddy with excitement, grabbed a notebook and filled it laughing and screaming how excited I was to do this. I hit some road blocks, but pushed my ass through.... I am pretty sure the lesson is not to give up on the last lap.
I wish I could teach my children trust. I would NEVER do this to you, so I assume you wouldn't do it to me. That's not the case.
Joy, Love, Peace, Kindness, Goodness, Patience, Self Control, Faithfulness, Gentleness.............
God what am I supposed to learn from this?
Tuesday, 5 November 2013
Don't let me break her,
I believe this life is a lesson. Lessons to take to eternity. You will get the same lesson until learned
.
I have a transgender child.
What lesson could be harder than living in a body that doesn't match your soul? Anything? Fucking anything? This has got to be the most challenging, difficult, soul destroying lesson, and I am so blessed and grateful I get to guide and nurture a soul with this lesson. Bring it on.
You are mighty and powerful and strong and brilliant just the way you are. You will be loved, and cherished, and adored for you as a soul not a body.
I'm sorry for your pain, but I will bear your cross and nurture your being for the beauty it is regardless. You are spectacular. You are great.
I don't worry about the child with the hardest life path imaginable. I worry about Joliet.
Joliet is soft. Delicate, fragile, precious. I get upset with her and she crumbles at my touch. "I'm so sorry mom, I am so sorry." No question, no justification, just pure fear of my anger.... I fear for her. I need my methods questioned. I punish you, I need you to make sure my ruling is justified and accurate. Please don't take me at my word, as I am just a mother trying my best. My best may not be right.
Joliet, if I say "no." respect me, but please don't cower at my word. I too make mistakes...
"Haven don't eat that."
"But why? Have you eaten it? How do you know I can't eat that? Maybe you ate it and it was different than this. Maybe you are wrong."
The questioning makes me steadfast in my deliberation, and when not questioned, makes me fall short of real parenting.
If they don't resist I become a dictator.
I don't "Rule" you, I direct you, please question the direction of me any EVERYBODY.
If my child doesn't question me, how will I know she wont question the masses? Question EVERYONE! Your teachers, the cops, the courts, the church. Question until you have no more questions than question again! Please baby girl of light, fear only yourself, and not my authority. Everyone wants obedient children, but when a child refuses to question, and cowers at your authority, it kills me! It kills me she submits with no distinction. My baby, my beauty, my light. I will tell you my course and ideas and ideals, but my God child, I am not perfect. Please don't take me as such.
Joliet is kind, and sacred. Her soul so pure and delicate that a stern look turns her to jello. My baby,
I will get upset as a mother, but please don't take this as a definition of your character. My anger will pass, your beauty and uniqueness will not.
I don't know how to parent a soft willed child. I can do my child with the hard life path. I can do my son with a non-conforming body, and fear of toilets, and partners, and secrets. I can do the hardest of the hard. I don't know how to do the submissive. The gentle, the delicate. How do I do the sensitive soul too kind for the earth?
How do I protect a being so graceful and sweet, the world would break? How do I put this baby in a bubble?
Yea, yea, you are trans and society wants to burn you at the steak. Fine, we will work through that, bring on the pitch forks! I will beat some asses and take names son, and you are strong enough to fight with me....
How do I do the people pleaser?
Joliet you are perfect. When people say otherwise how do I calm her? How do I reassure her? How do I protect her?
I fear for my baby. Not the one with the hardest life path on earth...we got this.... but my baby with the sensitive soul.
Please pray for Joliet. Keep her spirit with you, and keep her close. She needs support through this crazy maze. I get locking girls in towers, but she would be too lonely so that's out.
Pray for my daughter.
Pray for my guidance for her.
Amen.
.
I have a transgender child.
What lesson could be harder than living in a body that doesn't match your soul? Anything? Fucking anything? This has got to be the most challenging, difficult, soul destroying lesson, and I am so blessed and grateful I get to guide and nurture a soul with this lesson. Bring it on.
You are mighty and powerful and strong and brilliant just the way you are. You will be loved, and cherished, and adored for you as a soul not a body.
I'm sorry for your pain, but I will bear your cross and nurture your being for the beauty it is regardless. You are spectacular. You are great.
I don't worry about the child with the hardest life path imaginable. I worry about Joliet.
Joliet is soft. Delicate, fragile, precious. I get upset with her and she crumbles at my touch. "I'm so sorry mom, I am so sorry." No question, no justification, just pure fear of my anger.... I fear for her. I need my methods questioned. I punish you, I need you to make sure my ruling is justified and accurate. Please don't take me at my word, as I am just a mother trying my best. My best may not be right.
Joliet, if I say "no." respect me, but please don't cower at my word. I too make mistakes...
"Haven don't eat that."
"But why? Have you eaten it? How do you know I can't eat that? Maybe you ate it and it was different than this. Maybe you are wrong."
The questioning makes me steadfast in my deliberation, and when not questioned, makes me fall short of real parenting.
If they don't resist I become a dictator.
I don't "Rule" you, I direct you, please question the direction of me any EVERYBODY.
If my child doesn't question me, how will I know she wont question the masses? Question EVERYONE! Your teachers, the cops, the courts, the church. Question until you have no more questions than question again! Please baby girl of light, fear only yourself, and not my authority. Everyone wants obedient children, but when a child refuses to question, and cowers at your authority, it kills me! It kills me she submits with no distinction. My baby, my beauty, my light. I will tell you my course and ideas and ideals, but my God child, I am not perfect. Please don't take me as such.
Joliet is kind, and sacred. Her soul so pure and delicate that a stern look turns her to jello. My baby,
I will get upset as a mother, but please don't take this as a definition of your character. My anger will pass, your beauty and uniqueness will not.
I don't know how to parent a soft willed child. I can do my child with the hard life path. I can do my son with a non-conforming body, and fear of toilets, and partners, and secrets. I can do the hardest of the hard. I don't know how to do the submissive. The gentle, the delicate. How do I do the sensitive soul too kind for the earth?
How do I protect a being so graceful and sweet, the world would break? How do I put this baby in a bubble?
Yea, yea, you are trans and society wants to burn you at the steak. Fine, we will work through that, bring on the pitch forks! I will beat some asses and take names son, and you are strong enough to fight with me....
How do I do the people pleaser?
Joliet you are perfect. When people say otherwise how do I calm her? How do I reassure her? How do I protect her?
I fear for my baby. Not the one with the hardest life path on earth...we got this.... but my baby with the sensitive soul.
Please pray for Joliet. Keep her spirit with you, and keep her close. She needs support through this crazy maze. I get locking girls in towers, but she would be too lonely so that's out.
Pray for my daughter.
Pray for my guidance for her.
Amen.
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