Boobs...what's the deal?

After reading a story this morning about the backlash Ariel Winter received by posting a photo of her grad on Instagram, my initial thought was "whoa boobs...that's a little much". After a few seconds, the feminist side of me kicked in and thought: why am I so offended by boobs?
  If my daughters were Ariel Winter...would my initial response be different? I thought about this for awhile and came to this conclusion:  I'm only offended because of my own insecurities. I would love to wear a dress like Winter's in the picture, but I am not confident enough in myself to do so. I have this thing (which I'm pretty sure most of our society has) that has to do with me caring what other people think of me and acting accordingly. I mean, I always wanted to do cheer, but I was embarassed that I would be the biggest one on the squad if I tried out. I was worried what other people would think of me if I were to stand out. I let my perception of others cloud my securities in myself. My confidence took a plunge. Even at my smallest, I would dress more conservatively as not to draw attention to myself and my badass curves. I didn't want people to think I looked "slutty" or that I was "asking for it" or "craving attention".
So. Here we are, 3 kids and like 65 lbs later. You would think that I would be as insecure as ever; right!? Well, not the case.
After dealing with an asshole of a husband, single momming it for over a year with 3 kids under 2.5 (2 year old and 4 month old twins), and figuring out why I could ever end up in an abusive relationship, I found the key to everything...and I thank my counselor and myself for that.
See, I never took myself seriously. I never valued myself. I never did what I wanted to do, to the extent I wanted, for fear of the judgement I would receive from others. Here's the thing: I was only afraid of my own judgement of myself. Sure, others would judge me...but if I were truly secure and confident with myself, I wouldn't give a fuck. Like seriously, I don't give a shit.

Here's how all this fits into the Winter pic.

She is celebrating her grad.

She is wearing something she feels great in.

She is confident enough to wear what makes her happy and comfortable.

WE are judging her because we are insecure about ourselves (and because it's easy to slam people on the internet without having to face them in person).

WE, the cruel judges, are also the people who never are honest with ourselves...because if we were, we wouldn't be slamming anyone over what they wear.

WE live in a sexist society. Straight up. She is not dressing like a slut, nor is she "asking for it".
What the fuck is that people? Like seriously...no matter what ANYONE wears (MAN OR WOMAN), NO ONE should ever feel the fear that they are "asking for it". A rapist is a rapist...they are rapists. None of their victims were asking for it. NOT ONE. Clothes do not define or justify someone physically invading your personal boundaries. Nothing justifies it. Nothing. Again, a rapist is a rapist. Clothes do not encourage "asking for it"...because NO ONE ASKS FOR IT.
Also, the age thing. Just because she's 18 automatically allows her to wear whatever she wants!? Umm no. I will raise my daughters to know that they can wear whatever they please. Whatever they feel confident in. No, they won't be dressing slutty,or "asking for it". They will simply be confident in themselves. No one slut shames men for walking around without shirts on during the summer.
So why women? Why!? Well...we have a long history of misogyny in America. White men (historically white...now it seems like any ethnicity) place women into these roles of how we should act, behave, work, learn, dress, live, talk, and think. We women fall for this...mostly due to our upbringings or shortcomings. It's a battle...but we as women need to come together to raise both girls and boys to respect each gender. We need to leave the slut shaming behind us, otherwise nothing will ever change and hate will grow.
So, moral of story folks: leave the girl alone. She was celebrating her grad party. She's 18 and stoked about the next chapter in her life. So...before you get all outraged and call her a slut, or accuse her of asking for RAPE (which is what "it" means), think about yourself. What it comes down to is your own insecurities. Check into that and figure out what else triggers your insecurities. If you have kids, raise them to be confident in themselves. Raise them with love, not hate. Insecurities are just ways that we hate ourselves. Teach your kiddos, and even yourself to love. If you love yourself, I guarantee that your world will start to look like a much happier place and your insecurities will start to melt away. On a final note: your insecurities will influence young, confident women like Miss Ariel Winter.  Because when you judge and slut shame her, you are in turn feeding into judging and slut shaming the entire female gender...and we need more confident women in this world.
💜❤💚💙

You are amazing. You are loved. You are WANTED.

I feel like a lot of issues in this world revolve around people feeling wanted...or unwanted. I know growing up I felt completely displaced, alone, and unwanted. My parents tried to give us "the dream", but forgot about being THERE for us. Honestly, if both of my parents put an equal amount of focus on us, as they had with their jobs, both my brother's and my own life would be absolutely different. We would feel love. We would feel placed. We wouldn't look for our lost selves in others or in material things. I looked for myself in men. My brother looked for himself in drugs and alcohol. I have always based "who I am" on what I think people want to perceive me as. In the last couple weeks, I have been trying to be honest with myself. I have been failing...mostly because I don't even know who I am. I don't know myself. At all. It is scary, alarming, and disappointing that I can go through life NOT knowing myself. I really don't know my emotions...that explains why I never cry. Well, until tonight. Something happened (not out of the ordinary), where I found that I wanted something but didn't take the chance to get it. For some reason, I have an underlying feeling that I didn't deserve it...or that my goals weren't important. I am so thankful for Alberto...we had just been talking about being honest with oneself. The event had triggered something from the talk we had held earlier, and I just shut down and started bawling. I couldn't stop crying for nearly 45 minutes. I was absolutely heartbroken. This was just over an hour ago.

Here's the thing: I grew up in a VERY hate filled household. There was absolutely no emotional support in my family. My parents were horrible to one another, and abusive in their relationship. My role (that I took on around age 4) was to be the middle person; to make sure neither of my parents physically hurt one another. Imagine a 6 year old in between two adults trying to push and shove one another. That was me. That was my life.

So here I am, bawling. I'm feeling horrible for my child self. I shouldn't have had to take on such a role. My parents should have been parents and made sure I felt safe. I should have felt loved and safe in my home. Now looking back, living in a home with any domestic violence is EQUAL to someone in a war. You are always in alert. You can never sleep. You can never let your guard down. I could never sleep. I was always alert for a fight or DANGER. I never ever let my guard down. If I were to be vulnerable for one second, I would be placing myself in a weak spot. When you're in survival mode, you CANNOT be in a weak spot. I was in survival mode at home. All the time. School is where I flourished. Extracurriculars were my jam. Family life, loving, and meaningful relationships? Haha yeah right, no way in hell. I never took any time for that shit. Vulnerability and love will lead you nowhere; or so I thought.
I ended up repeating (worse) my childhood for my eldest daughter. My ex (her biological father) was violent, angry, unpredictable and manipulative. I continued the cycle. My daughter was in the middle of plenty fights, even as a baby. The presence of my daughter never phased my ex...he would do anything to get to me. Huh, funny how similar that is to my childhood. Here's the thing though, I left. I reported the last assault. I took action. I left for my kids. I left for myself. I took Ellie out of the middle. Ellie was no longer in a family fight. She no longer had to witness domestic violence. She no longer had to witness her parents hating one another. She no longer has hate in her life.

Here's the thing with me crying...bawling uncontrollably: I was crying half for myself, and half for Ellie. About a half hour into my crying, I went into the kid's room and cuddled with Ellie for the rest of my breakdown. I feel absolutely horrid that she saw what she did when her bio father was around. I feel guilty for putting her in such a situation, and for ever indirectly placing her in the middle of our fights (silly me, I figured he wouldn't hurt his own daughter to get to me...I was wrong). She still remembers him and the stuff he did to me. She remembers him hitting me and throwing me to the ground. It breaks my heart that she ever had to witness such things. It breaks my heart that I made her feel like myself...the childhood Lindsay who felt insignificant, unloved and unwanted.

This is what I realized about myself and Miss Ellie when I was snuggling her: Ellie is amazing. Ellie is loved. Ellie is wanted. Obviously those words were said to Ellie but meant for myself. I am amazing. I am loved. I am wanted.

If not by my parents, that's okay. As long as I tell myself that and believe it, I will be the best mother I can be to my children. They will feel amazing, loved, and wanted. Hopefully they won't have to deal with loneliness the way I did. I may not be perfect, but I am here. I am full of love for them, I want the best for them, and I am constantly trying to grow emotionally to make sure I'm the best mom I can be. Their father may not be present in their lives. I cannot fill that void...however, I can make sure that the know who to count on when times get rough, and I will always be a listening ear. I will be selfish at times in life (human nature), but I will never simply dismiss the presence of a child in adult matters. I am so thankful for Alberto. We communicate amazingly. We have our moments, but the kids see us work out our differences in a healthy and respectful manner. I want my kids to have standards for loving and healthy relationships. I want them to be happy. I want them to know they're amazing. I want them to know they're loved.  Most of all, I want them to know they're wanted. Everyone is wanted by someone in life. We all serve a purpose in our time on Earth, so why not make it great?

Liar. Liar.

Clear blue water. Coral reef. White soft sand between my toes. Islands in the distance. Colbie Callait playing. Sunshine. Sunshine and no worries.

I wish I were in Maui again on the secluded beach near our fave condos.

I wonder why I always find a mental retreat in this location. Or even on vacation in San Francisco...it seems like the water carries out all of my problems with the tide.

Maybe it's because my life was much simpler then...or I thought so. Now, I am realizing that it was the fake me that thought life was simple. Not the fake me...
But the perception of who I wanted myself to be. I thought that I needed all things to line up in life to be happy...but now I realize the exact opposite.

Here's the thing...no matter what you do, it will never matter unless you are 100% involved in its process. I have never been 100% ...due to my fear of being vulberable. I grew up around people who were supposed to love each other, but instead they used one another's weaknesses as weapons in their daily battles.  I grew up knowing this. I only have a foundation based on portraying myself as a strong and capable woman...when all I really am is lost. I am scared to find out who I really am. Diving into myself is my worst fear. I lie to myself on a daily basis. I had no idea...until someone blatantly pointed it out to me. I was offended at first, because I take pride in telling the truth. However, what I came to realize is that I tell the truth to the extent of my audience's expectation. I never tell my whole truth. I love bananas, but I send in an entire fruit basket in fear of rejection of something I love. I coat things with other truths in order to make it more likeable. If you're having a hard time following along...compare it to a packing bubble. I put my truth in the center of it and cushion the crap out of it in order to passively express myself. In the process of finding this iut about myself, I also found out that I really don't take myself seriously. That breaks my heart. I thought I respected and loved myself this whole time...aka my whole life. However, I realized that I treat myself as an invalid. It's been quite the interesting last couple weeks. I have had to get used to taking my own opinion into consideration...on everything. I have never taken my own opinion as AN OPINION. I usually take advice and find a happy medium within that range.
Here's the problem...you end up floating through life and living for others. It is SO exhausting. I'm absolutely exhausted. Maybe that's why I always "relax"in my thoughts in Maui or San Francisco. In those moments I had the opportunity to be myself...wholly and specifically ME. However, I was too scared to find myself. Maybe it's regret? I definitely have regrets now....

Lost. I am lost. I am Stitch in Lilo and Stitch. I am just hanging on this island doing what other people expect me to do,and have never thought for myself. I view the real me as a black hole. I need to dive in. Birch Bay reference: the Black hole waterslide...I just need to ride the wave and trust that I'll make it through okay.

So here's the truth...I'm in the beginning of the black hole slide and so far it's absolutely freeing. I am figuring out just exactly who I am. Day by day. Hour by hour. I'm not perfect, and that's just fine by me 💜

"Slow is smooth and smooth is fast"

Keep up with me for more personal updates. Depression and PTSD are real issues...I hope that my posts help someone 💜💜

To my amazing Uncle, who really set a standard for our family...

My Uncle; my mom's eldest brother...the one she still looked up to with the adoration of a small child,even at the age of 60. He would have turned 70 this year. I expected him to live until at least age 90 due to his healthy lifestyle. He was a kind, calm, and well spoken man. He had such a friendly and welcoming spirit, and was always up for a good laugh. My mother and all of her brothers looked up to him in some way or shape. Uncle Steve was basically the man of the house in my mother's eyes.

I always enjoyed visiting my aunt and uncle's house; where we would sit around their table and shoot the breeze for hours...the adults drinking coffee, while the kids played Nintendo 64 or watched a Disney VHS while we played hide and seek. We loved their fish, and their amazing dogs. They were quite the duo, my aunt and uncle. My aunt is hilarious and straightforward..."cut the shit" stuff. My Uncle was more reserved, but full of anazing stories. I miss him already. I missed him as soon as the cancer was found. I knew it would never be the same...but even until this morning I was holding onto some hope that it might turn around. That life would say: just kidding, you get a do-over. Why do the best people leave this Earth so soon? They leave behind a huge gap to fill...an amazingly wonderful gap that would take multiple people with the best personalities to fill. I guess what I'm trying to say is that my Uncle was pure quality. He still had an older feel about him that made you feel like life could be simple. He enjoyed nature, and I'm so thankful to have went on a hike with him in September of 2013...before the horrible toxin showed its true color. We were picking blackberries on the Island...I was walking around with my oldest daughter and taking in the perfect end of summer day. I will never forget those moments with him, or any of my family. I love them all so dearly. We may all have our own little tiffs, but at the end of the day they should all know that I have their backs and love them all with my entire heart. Family is forever. I am going to close tonight's blog with a symbolic ending: we are 3 roses and one small wooden boat.. We will be forever with you. I love you Uncle Steve, and tell everyone hi for me up there!!! As y'all would say.. Love ya See ya.

Love the way you lie pt 2...perfect song to explain abusive patterns from a victim standpoint in the middle of abuse

On the first page of our story
The future seemed so bright,
Then this thing turned out so evil
I don't know why I'm still surprised
Even angels have their wicked schemes
And you take that to new extremes
But you'll always be my hero
Even though you've lost your mind

(Everything is a made up fairy tale in the bginning, and you feel as if you have finally met the "perfect guy". Turns out he is just luring you into his cage so he can trap you in and take advantage of everything you've ever attained in life. You see what has happened and it all makes sense, but you still can't leave).

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts.
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie.
I love the way you lie
Ohhh, I love the way you lie

Now there's gravel in our voices
Glass is shattered from the fight
And this tug of war, you'll always win
Even when I'm right.
'Cause you feed me fables from your head
With violent words and empty threats
And it's sick that all these battles
Are what keeps me satisfied

(The abuser now has you trapped in their psychotic lifestyle...they start arguments just to have the fight...they lie and threaten to cheat on you, or leave when you know they won't, but for some reason they have made you believe that the fight is a good thing because they "care" enough to fight with you. If they stopped fighting with you, then that means that they're done with you...you're used and damaged goods. You have put everything you have-and I mean everything-to change yourself to fit the psycho abuser's life. If they move on, you have nothing and no one because they've probably convinced you to alienate yourself from your loved ones...you won't even know yourself.)

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie

Ohhh, I love the way you lie

So maybe I'm a masochist
I try to run but I don't wanna ever leave
Til the walls are goin' up
In smoke with all our memories

(You know you need to leave but you can't...mostly of fear of the outside world. Abusers suck all healthy relationship norms from their victims, and make them think they cannot survive without them in the real world. Living with a psycho is better than forever being alone, right? Isn't that what they convince you?)

[Eminem's Part]
It's morning, you wake, a sunray hits your face
Smeared makeup as we lay in the wake of destruction
Hush baby, speak softly, tell me you're awfully sorry 
That you pushed me into the coffee table last night
So I can push you off me
Try and touch me so I can scream at you not to touch me
Run out the room and I'll follow you like a lost puppy
Baby, without you, I'm nothing, I'm so lost, hug me
Then tell me how ugly I am, but that you'll always love me
Then after that, shove me, in the aftermath of the
Destructive path that we're on, two psychopaths but we
Know that no matter how many knives we put in each other's backs
That we'll have each other's backs, 'cause we're that lucky
Together, we move mountains, let's not make mountains out of molehills, 
You hit me twice, yeah, but who's countin'?
I may have hit you three times, I'm startin' to lose count
But together, we'll live forever, we found the youth fountain
Our love is crazy, we're nuts, but I refused counsellin'
This house is too huge, if you move out I'll burn all two thousand
Square feet of it to the ground, ain't shit you can do about it
With you I'm in my f-ckin' mind, without you, I'm out it

(Trying to communicate with an abuser is impossible...they start to have normal conversations just to start an argument. You can't ever have a full on normal conversation with an abuser. Also, they always "get even" and come out on top. They can never admit to being wrong. They threaten your life and livelihood, and in my case, the lives of my children. They say that if they can't have you, no one will...that they would rather kill you and bury you than to see you happy with another man. Or that they would kill themselves if you left. They say they would take your children from you and have you killed. They talk about someone else being the mother to your children. Yes...these are all things that abusers say to their victims in the pattern of abuse. These are just some of the things my abuser said to me. This is why the cycle is SO hard to escape. Even if you think they are empty threats...you start to believe them...because they're unpredictable humans aka psycopaths.)

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because 
I love the way you lie

Keep busy...

Keeping busy keeps me sane. Let me explain...I mean with self involving activities. Walking outside, reading, working toward something, being a MOM...all of those things make me feel alive.
You know when you were in school and the teacher would ask you what your fave hobby was? I never knew mine...I never did anything for pure fun, or anything that made me feel passion. I have decided that being a mom is my hobby, and always had been ( ask my besties). I love my kids. I love changing diapers and taking the kids to the park. I love teaching them about life. I love the looks on their face when they see something for the first time. I am living my hobby.
I still feel incomplete though...thanks tho the world.
I wonder if we have all made this "life" business too unreal. Like we all have such plans and orders to everything. It was unheard of when I went from the university student life, only to transfer to the community college my second year. No one understood why I would "back track". Simple: I had NO idea what I wanted to do. All I wanted to do was be a mom...that's all I've ever wanted to do. Here I am, 9 years and 3 kids later...and I still am searching for what I want to "do with my life". Accounting? Law enforcement? Teacher? Fire fighter? Counselor for DV and CDV (Child) survivors? I mean really...those are my top picks and none of them have anything to do with the other, except for helping people. I love people. I want to stand for everything that is right in this world. I want to make a difference. The sad part is that most of the money would be in accounting or counseling, but I wouldn't be reaching the amount of people I could in the other careers. I only want to make money so I can start helping others to better their lives. I want to help people like they've helped me. I want to help those young women who are left to take care of their child on their own...or the DV survivors who end up homeless due to fleeing from a dangerous situation (they should be rewarded for leaving...not condemned). I just want to hurry and finish school so that I can finally start to help others. Raising my kids obviously counts as doing something, but the world has led us mothers to believe that our job is insignificant.
Being a mom is so hard,but it is also SO very important. We are totally doing something with our lives...we're raising the future.

"The hand that rocks the cradle, is the hand that rules the world."

Seriously. In the room next to me lies 3 lives that I'm in charge of. I'm in charge of laying a solid foundation for these humans to be able to live their lives to the fullest. I hope they are happy. Above all else, I hope they love life and live it to the max potential. I want them to have deep and meaningful HEALTHY relationships. I want them to stand for what is right. I want them to find their passion in life and enjoy every single day. I don't ever want them to feel the low points I have in my life.
So here's my point (kids), whether you go to college and do the "norm", become a parent, or if you end up working at a coffee shop for the rest of your life...I hope you are happy and doing what you love. I don't want you to feel pressured to have a hobby like collecting rocks or collecting baseball cards. If you want to be a garbageman, go for it. If you want to be a mom or dad, do it. If you want to travel and swim with turtles, or climb mountains, do it all...and take pics for your momma (or bring me along ;) ). Just be happy. Stay busy...because a life on idle is nothing. There is no time to waste...nor to settle. If you enjoy reading books inside during a rain storm while drinking tea, then do it. Please. Don't feel the world's pressure of always being on the go. Be yourself. Be content...but most of all, feel satisfied that what you're doing is fulfilling in every aspect of your life.

"There are no small jobs or tasks, only small minded people."

You've got this...be happy and LIVE. I love you, my 3 little munckins. My L'ÉTÉ.

Spa time aka bubble bath at home...thoughts that come from within

I have removed my Facebook app from my phone. It wasn't a "distraction" as my mother likes to call it...rather, it's an excuse for me to escape my reality.

When you have PTSD from trauma, sometimes your body and mind block your memory of all events related to the trauma, as an internal defense mechanism. Since October of 2014, I have been taking full advantage of that mechanism. Tonight I have embraced the truth. I have been totally fine "living" my life without re-experiencing everything that has happened to me...except it has actually been to my disadvantage.

I am on anti-depressants from my PTSD and all of the abuse, and have been for over a year. Some days are fine, but other days are still dark. I always thought people who seek counseling or therapy were weak beings who needed others to solve their problems for them. I was always raised to be tough and not to "air" your dirty laundry. Seeking help was known as a form of weakness. I have let myself pretend to embrace the support systems that help-seeking survivors of abuse recieve...whilst internally beating myself up for wanting some therapy to help cope with my current issues.

However, all pride aside...I need therapy. I need someone to hear my story and tell me that it wasn't my fault; that I didn't deserve any of it; that all of my feelings ARE valid and totally okay to feel. I still find myself apologizing for the most ridiculous shit. I always apologize for my feelings. I forgot for years that it's okay to have your own opinion; that the fear of physical and emotional abuse as a consequence for speaking thoughts was a psychological fear, planted by a psychopath. Yes...a psychopath. That's what abusers are. They get a thrill from harming others...you know who else does that? Serial killers.

Anyway, I don't want to relive feelings of being strangled, or the fear of being killed and having my children raised by their psycho father; due to their mother dying from internal bleeding or brain hemorrhaging. What a way to die. How embarrassing. I have a hard time embracing the fact that I stayed for 4 years; that I had 3 children with him...that I fell for everything. I was always stronger than that. I was smart...I made good choices. But you know what? That doesn't matter...because I have come to realize that all abusers prey on strong AND insecure women. They prey on your weakness to lure you in, and in turn take all your strengths and CRUSH them. You are left with nothing, which is exactly how they want it to play out. The abuser wants you to feel as if the only person you have is them; that way they can forever control you.

I was weak. I was fearful. I'm still fearful. I never want to feel those feelings again. However, those feelings have been creating a dark monster in my soul. I am afraid of what I am capable of, had I been left to my own devices this whole time. If it weren't for my children and my love (these 4 humans are literally the only light in my life), I am scared of where I would be. I can't imagine how women get through these dark times without some sort of light in their life. Maybe they just don't; that's the sad truth.

I know that I need to do better and seek help because I have 3 children who look up to me. I want them to face their own fears. I don't want their bad life choices to own them. I don't want them to be afraid of facing hard times. I want them to be courageous. I want to be courageous. I need to fight this dark monster inside of me. In order to do so, I need to stop ignoring it and shine some light directly into my soul. I need to face my fears. I need to close my eyes and tell someone exactly what happened to me and how it made me feel. I need to turn my experiences from trauma into memories.

I'm hoping this process will work. I'm honestly scared shitless. I don't want to do this, but I NEED to do this. I use my kids as an excuse, but I really need this for ME. I deserve to move on from this horrific chapter. Unless I reread it, I'll never be able to finish the chapter and write the rest of my book. 💙


*btw I was just able to reread this post before publishing. I have never been able to do that before. Progress people. Progress.