Today, I met my hero.

It has been a long time since I’ve blogged. I think the main reason is that I have felt like I haven’t had anything to say. Today, that changed. Today, I met my hero.

It’s not the first time we’ve met, but today… today we really talked to each other, and she became my hero. She doesn’t know this, but she will. We didn’t talk about ALL THE THINGS, but we talked about enough things.

I’ve been through some pretty shitty things in my life. She has “been there, done that” with almost all of mine, and then some (times 100,000). But she’s not arrogant about it. She’s just awesome. I have always had a habit of letting the bad things get to me, and bring me down. I let them control me. She’s had so many things try to tear her down, and she still gets up, smiles, and says “bring it on motherfucker!”. This is what I want to be.

I’m not going to let this woman slip away from my life. She’s too awesome for words. She’s inspirational. She makes me want to be a better me. I am going to try to learn from the things she shares and suggests, and try to make myself better, stronger, a little bit at a time.

I apologize, in advance, to my family and friends. In the last few years, with the unemployment and negative shit that has bombarded me from all sides, I lost myself. But today… things have changed.

The Witch is back.

Heavens to Murgatroyd

It has been a month since I last posted. That’s terrible! I can admit to being completely distracted and bogged down by JavaScript and PHP, both languages I wish I never had to learn. I think it’s safe to say that I’ll never be a back-end developer. If anyone were to hire me for that purpose, I’d probably break the internet. Billions would be at a loss as to how to communicate, since cursive writing isn’t being taught in schools anymore. It would be complete and utter anarchy. It might even create a second ice age, wiping civilization, as we know it, out completely.

Okay, well, maybe not quite that dramatic, but I’d suck.

Not much else has happened in the last month, other than my boyfriend trying to kill me with his shoes, and then being attacked by a rabid trampoline. Other than that, it’s been quiet. My boyfriend claims he’s not… he says he’s far more subtle than an obstacle course in the dark that I am unaware of, but I’m keeping my eyes open, just in case. He does write horror, after all.

An interestsing development

All my life, I have been very self-conscious of my body. When I was a teenager, I hated it and did everything I could to ensure I kept it covered. I rarely wore shorts, I wore jeans all summer long. I have no idea why, other than teenage angst, because when I look back, I had a kick-ass body back then. I had nice hips, a thin waist and just enough boobs. What was I thinking? I wasn’t. I was a teenager.

As I got older, I discovered beer. That’s when my body started to expand, but not in all the right places. I had a very unhealthy/emotionally abusive relationship which upped my beer intake considerably. I eventually got enough nerve to kick that relationship to the curb, but depression snuck in and I was terribly fashionable for quite some time in baggy sweatshirts and sweatpants. I was the queen of fashion. But, my body was completely hidden, rightly so according to my ex, because it was disgusting.

After a while, I shelved the sweatpants (although I still wear then when I’m carving, because it’s okay to look like a bag of crap when you’re turning into a giant dustball anyway) and returned to my jeans and t-shirt comfort zone. But, without realizing I was doing so, the t-shirts were always big. Really big. I was still hiding myself. Funnily enough, I also started wearing more outrageous things. I was wearing bright colours, many colours, weird saying on my t-shirts. I think that subconsciously, I was hoping that if people noticed anything, it was my clothing, and not me. That endured through another unhealthy/emotionally abusive relationship (what’s up with that anyway?) and into the recent past.

Fast forward to 2015. (Ironically, I’m numerically dyslexic and typed 2105… that would be a reeeeeeally long time from now.) I still have the clothing with the weird sayings, and the brightly coloured clothing, and the many-coloured clothing, but I’ve noticed that, for the most part, the bigger stuff is still in the storage boxes. I’m pulling out the stuff I like that may be a teeny bit snug, but I’m okay with that. I’m pulling out the shorter pants.

It would seem that, for the first time in my life, I’ve suddenly become more comfortable with my body. I can attribute that to one thing, or should I say, one person. I think that finding someone who actually loves me for me, who tells me I’m beautiful, and who loves my body the way it is, is slowly starting to change the way I see myself. I don’t use the word “disgusting” when I describe my body. I am still not overly fond of it, but I can live with it now. And who knows, maybe, eventually, I might love it as much as he does. But for now, at least someone does. 🙂

I may be broken…

Sometimes I wonder how people let go of the past. People who have been through way worse than I… I’m in a good place now. I have someone who I love very much, and I know that he actually loves me too. So why do I allow bad thoughts to creep into my head? Why do I allow the self-doubt back? I guess because it never left.

Things can be awesome, perfect, beyond my imaginings for weeks and then one little thing will send me back into myself. I retreat. It’s not even big things, just little triggers. I don’t feel worthy of being happy. I don’t feel worthy of being loved. I compare myself to others and always come up short.

Is it because the negativity is comfortable? I’ve spent so many years being negative, and feeling like I wasn’t worth anything, that perhaps I’m out of my comfort zone. It’s safer to stay in my little cocoon rather than allow myself to be vulnerable again. My heart knows it’s okay to be vulnerable, and it wants to be, but the voice in my head is still afraid. I have handed my heart over, and I trust the one I love to keep it safe. But I’m still afraid. I’ve never loved anyone like this before. Correction, I realize now that I’ve never loved before. I’ve never felt this loved before. Is that what’s so scary? Are things too good and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop? Maybe I’m waiting for him to discover that I’m not what he thinks I am. I’m just me.

There are ghosts in my head. There are ghosts in my house. The ones in my house are welcome. The ones in my head are not. I don’t know how to get rid of them. My love is patient and is willing to try help me exorcise them, but he shouldn’t have to. I should be able to just let go, shouldn’t I?

I want to let go.

Why can’t I?