commentary

Kerouac said, "Be in love with your life, and every detail of it." And so I am. Awkwardness, some vulgarity, and, most important, sincerity abound. The time has come to not hold back.

[ellerevelle]

hello again

Its been an eternity. I had to login with my yahoo email. My YAHOO. email. 

I’ve been sitting in the same position, at my computer, slouched over watching netflix for hours now. Not accomplishing a damn thing except panic. I’ve been enjoying the program I’m watching but continually keep checking my phone. As one does. 

I check Instagram to look for that little red message notification indicating a new DM. Its not obsessive, but I do feel relieved to see someone is there. I’ve been alone in my room, day in day out, for what feels like months now. I go to work, I go out dancing occasionally, but all in all, I’m lazing in my bedroom. Its basically my studio apartment, despite living in a 4 bedroom rented house. 

I’m here to journal. Because my life needs an entire overhaul. I really wonder whats wrong with me. Today I examined a LinkedIn job listing for, upon reading the details, is like- THE job. THE DREAM JOB. And I have no qualifications. 

If I had even remotely TRIED. AT ALL. the last, oh I dont know, TEN YEARS OF MY LIFE to do anything actually photography work related, I’d be maybe closer to qualified. But despite talking like I’m an artist, despite going to goddamn art school, despite telling myself or others I meet “yea I’m a photographer,” ... it has to be what you DO. As a VERB. And my cameras literally, absolutely, are coated in dust. I havent handled them in over a year. Probably more. 

What is wrong with me. I read the job description, I even took a screenshot of the listing for when it goes down, because I want to dream about it. Study it. But it says at the top of the list “at least 5 years of experience.” My last five years? have been bullshit. I’ve just gotten fatter and lazier and probably less mentally healthy. I mean, I’m barfing my thoughts on Tumblr again, I’m probably not okay. I’m here feeling like I’ve squandered my fucking years, that my life needs a genuine total overhaul. I am not mentally healthy. 

Why. Am. I. Afraid. To. Move.

Not move away, but literally MOVE. Work out, create, explore my city, meet people, even pick up a new book. I’m afraid to move. 

I need to clean my car. Its gotten out of hand. She doesnt deserve it. I feel like everything I SING about loving, I’ve stopped living up to. I talk about going on road trips ALL THE TIME. I feel like by letting my car fall into terrible disarray, I’m betraying myself. If I were to try to take a road trip, I’d have to do so much work. SO much work. Its so cluttered, the trunk is full of old clothes and weird concert souvenirs and random tupperware and literal trash. I need to vacuum it, I need to dust it, I need to clean the glass. I need to empty the entire thing out. I am afraid to do the work. I am unmotivated to do the work. 

Want to know what I’m thinking about why:

I want someone to care. 

I feel like I dont exist anymore. Like... no ones asking my any questions, no ones noticing me out there doing anything, I dont feel witnessed, I dont matter. So its really difficult to find motivation to do something that no one cares about. Which I dont mean to sound like the cliche “if you cant instagram it, did it really happen?” “if the tree falls in the woods but no one was there to see it, did it make a sound?” 

Its a vicious cycle, I observe, because in not doing the thing I think no one sees or cares about, the thing I CARE ABOUT definitely never happens and, therefore, doesnt exist to be cared about or seen at all. 

If I threw a party and nobody showed up, and quit throwing parties, then NO ONE would show up. Wayne Gretski “You miss 100% of the shots you dont take” la la la blah yes I know. 

Its so fucking scary. I feel so goddamn freaked out. I feel so obvious. Everyone wants to be loved and noticed, obviously. I’m in part afraid of no one caring, but also I’ve become so egotistical in a way- that if I AM seen, I want to be seen right. I want the right people around me. 

I’ve been dissappinted about people I’ve met or who has noticed me in this town. Again, ego, but like... I dont get hit on here. And those who DO, are AWFUL. I drive home after a night out and think - THAT guy? thought he had it to ask me for my number?

Not to sound cruel. But I’m talking like, total like... icky dudes. Or just blah dudes. 

I sparkle, and I want to share it with somebody ... whats a better way to say “with somebody who matters”? Because that sounds horrible. I dont see myself as some queen diva champion, but I just... have a lot and have lived a very interesting life, and I feel like its just kindof. Stopped. 

I hear some voices say that inspiration is bullshit. waiting for inspiration is an excuse. but like. 

what... how... HOW? How to just go and do things anyway when theres SO MANY THINGS THAT CAN DISSAPOINT YOU. SO MANY THINGS THAT CAN DRAIN YOU. SO MANY THINGS THAT CAN HURT YOU. SO MANY THINGS THAT CAN LEAD YOU ASTRAY. 

So in lieu of this fear, I’ve done nothing. I miss feeling fearless. 

I’ve felt happiness lately going to kpop shows. When the artist looks at me. Not a sexy look or even a real look, but I still feel seen. Your eyeballs, You this Artist I care about, has seen my face. Has felt my presence in the crowd. And I like to delusionaly think that matters. I know in a woo woo way, everyones energy matters, but I’m in my head really BELIEVING that my presence is special. So when I go out, or try to meet new people, and just get met with duds or nothing at all - I feel like it was a waste. Or, worse, that I’m the joke. And that I’m crazy for thinking I’m special at all. 

So. I need to clean my car. I need to get in shape. I need to dust off my cameras. I need to USE them. I need to play piano. I need to shred my magazines and make collage art again. I need to go out into nature and get attuned to the sunset and stars again. I need to even like, update my goddamn facebook page, and instagram and delete emails and FIX MY FUCKING LINKEDIN PROFILE BUT I’M SCARED. and lazy. And I want to have somebody to impress, but NOBODY. CARES. So why bother? But I genuinely feel like I’m disappearing! talking in circles. 

By not doing things for myself out of fear, I’m essentially proving the world right. By not existing, I dont exist. 

Why am I so scared? I mean, theres the Mom card. I’ve been aching to call her more than usual lately. This year I’ve felt the physical, tangible craving to call her. She died in 20...15? 2015. August of 2015. 

And I never knew what being loved like that felt like until it was gone. She knew me, she saw everything. And she thought I was the most special, just for existing. She had 5+ miscarriages after having my older brother. She didnt think she was gonna have another baby. Let alone a little girl. Then she got the call, that the pregnancy stuck, that I was gonna be her daughter. The doctors literally SEWED HER CERVIX SHUT to keep me up there long enough. I was still born a month early, but I was her treasure. She wanted me SO BADLY. 

I still dont know if her death was an accident or intentional, and I’m afraid to ask. I dont even know if my father would tell me the truth, he may need to believe it was an accident. But she was deeply depressed and addicted to hydrocodone, and she was found dead on our living room floor, all alone, on the day of her’s and my father’s 35th wedding anniversary. He was in the hospital at the time, he’d broken his shin bone weeks prior and has bad bones so he was in a rehab place. She was home alone, encouraged by him to just stay in and enjoy the house, and that they’d celebrate their anniversary another weekend. He sent her a bouquet of roses that she’d never see. They sat on our doorstep while she laid inside on the floor. It was devestating. Well, duh, thats an understatement. 

When I was going to therapy (I stopped over COVID and havent gone back) my therapist asked me “would it make anything different for you, if you knew?” and at first I answered No. But even the next day I was honest with myself and truly, it would make a huge fucking difference. Knowing if it was a mistake, too much wine, took an extra hydrocodone, got woozy and passed out, maybe hit her head, or maybe a heart thing. That would change everything, if she didnt WANT to leave us. If it was just a fluke. That’d make a very big difference. 

I’ve gotten over a lot since then and the layers of growth and wisdom I’ve developed is indescribable. I’m deeply proud of myself and who I am inside. But thats what makes me angry and sad right now. Why have I become such a blob? Surely I miss her love, even though it was so broken the last five years of her life with her severe depression. I forgive that, and I think she’d forgive me for being too young to understand and fight harder for her. Our hometown doesnt have shit in the way of Mental Health services. She needed worlds more help, and I couldve fought harder for her. Alas, I think she would be upset with me for thinking this way. She’d express “we’re the parents, its not on you to parent your own parents.” 

Anyways. I feel like my Father is loving me how he knows how. He’s great for sweet support, but not great with life advice. He’s the least ambitious man I know since he retired. He HATED work, but suffered and sacrificed infinitely for us anyway to keep our lives afloat, and for that I’ll be forever grateful. But since he got to leave work and came into family money, he doesnt do much unless he HAS to. He’s a music man, but hasnt played guitar or written songs or done anything creative in decades. He let it burn out. I respect him, I love him for him and try not to be disappointed about his choices but... its just difficult to express my feelings to him about these things. He’s like “Josie, dont worry I have money, you’ll never be in trouble.” And I just... I believe him but I dont believe him? I dont want to buckle into that. I feel like I need to earn that privelege. I cant just ask, I’m not a trust fund kid. Cant just be like DADDY I WANT TO GO TO MIAMI CAN I HAVE TEN GRAND? Like, no! First of all He’d never say yes to that hahaha. I’ve definitely lied (*white lied) to my family to sound more put together and “worthy” than I actually probably am. I talk about my job like its a bigger deal than it is, when in reality I’m only making $15 an hour and I’m late every single day. 

Fuck, speaking of. I was supposed to take a shower about 6 hours ago, but its 11:30pm and I have to go to bed and still havent gotten clean. Its been too many days. I’m gross. 

See!? my life needs a fucking overhaul. WHY AM I STRUGGLING TO TAKE A FUCKING SHOWER. 

I am broken dude. wtf. 

I feel more motivated to take care of myself WHEN I FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY GIVES A SHIT WHO I AM! Somebody to wash my hair for, dress up for. Even though truth is, I absolutely do it for me. I go out to a concert to be seen, sure, but when I’m getting ready, I LOVE my reflection. I love hanging out with music on and expressing artistry with makeup or clothing styling. I do it because IIIIII like it. And then out in the world, at least if no one else likes it, at least I do?

But it still requires an invitation out. Someone saying “hey come meet us at this bar!” or a great concert I want to see and SHOW UP for. TURN UP for. 

How do I do these things, how do I give a shit about showing up, if theres no invitation? if theres no obvious purpose other than just doing the thing?

I fear by existing out there, youre inviting critique. If i carry a camera around, people will ask to see. And what if I suck!!! What if theyre like “oh my god who the fuck does she think she is, carrying that nice ass big ass camera and her photos are so mediocre.” 

I dont want to be a joke. 

Sometimes I go into massive panic attacks getting dressed to go out because I feel like, too old and fat or the wrong genre to pull anything off and if I go out like... it’ll be the “who does she think she is.” 

fuck. 

fuck fuck fuck. I need to wash my face. I need to brush my teeth. 

I need to get a FUCKING LIFE. 

I want that Hybe America job. Content Preditor, they mushed together the words pre- and editor to make PREDITOR. How sexy could that be! 

The job description describes who I wish I was. Prepared, experienced, creative, multitasking, able to improvise, team leader, good with new people, passionate about the music industry. 

I havent taken any vitamins today. the EASIEST thing to do. because I hate walking into the kitchen to get water. 

Thats a WHOLE OTHER CAN OF WORMS. my living situation. this post is already too long. I’ve already procrastinated showering for far too long. I’ve already watched... lets see... NINE episodes, 40 minutes each. 

I need help. Talk more tomorrow. Or, yknow, six more years or however long the previous gap between my posts have been. 

[ellerevelle]

future halloween costume ideas

johnny depp

the junk drawer

a ray of sunshine

a 70s living room

[ellerevelle]

okay so im feeling crazy and detached again (as usual lately)

but instead of spiraling into absolute fucking panic, I’m deciding to take today to just ... not wholly subscribe to this manner of thinking BUT. JUST FOR NOW. I feel like taking some of the craziness flack off myself and blaming it on some shit outside of myself. Because feeling this weird and detached cant all just be me. So here’s a brainstorming of whats got me fucked up, in no particular order: 

Trump is our stupid President

That guy who told me he loved me daily and asked me to be his girlfriend after basically living with me immediately after meeting me and I fell for hard despite a ton of red flags CHEATED on me while I was away visiting home. 

And then blamed it on MY bad communication? fuck that guy. 

But now I see one of the girls he slept with (multiple times, three days in a row) I see her everywhere all the time in everyones instagrams, at everyones parties... ugh. 

Um. People are dying. Close to me. More importantly and spefcifically women I love are dead. 

I didnt get to see Inga before she died. I was too busy forging a relationship with CHEATER GUY. Didnt get home in time to see her. Talk to her. 

Grandma. This has been the whole first year without her, come November. Its subtle, but terrible and I hate it. She was my last matriarch. The last woman who’s blood is in me. 

because Mom’s dead too. And has been since August of 2015. 2015, right? God it feels like forever ago now, probably because I’ve pushed it away. She died unexpectedly and NO ONE IN MY FAMILY HAS SAID THE WORD SUICIDE OUT LOUD even though thats what happened. She OD’d on prescribed opiate painkillers to escape her depression. And we NEVER talk about it. 

So I kindof feel insane. Not talking about things that are clearly there. Like, are they not clearly there for anybody else? Now all my women are gone. My brother literally avoids talking about feelings. My dad is a little more receptive but is more the comforting type than the forthcoming, express onesself type. Getting sentimentality out of my brother is like pulling teeth sometimes. But yet if his son does something cute, its God’s Work and he cant help but cry and get that beautiful lovie squishy look on his face. 

I’m jealous of my own nephew. I see the way my Mom loved me, in the way my Brother loves his son. And I miss being that perfect to somebody. My Dad loves me forever and always and there isnt a word for how grateful I feel for our relationship. I dont take that for granted at all. It actually kindof scares me because... hah, well what if Dad dies? Like, before I’m ready? I’ll be even MORE fucked! 

Anyways. Austins been pissing me off. I’m sorry but although Polyamory is possible and cool and im sure quite beautiful for many, 

The Austin poly scene is fucked and tainted and a bunch of slutty people having orgies and not TALKING about anything and its ruining the healthy vibe poly is incumbent upon. 

So, whatever I’m angry. So fuck that noise. 

I feel like because of cheater guy and my anger at the psuedo poly orgy sexy bullshit scene in Austin, I feel like I’ve broken up with a whole group of friends. Like, I dont want to be around any of it. I dont want to see you eat mushrooms and twerk. I dont want to see your stupid, super naked outfit. I dont think its hot you carry a flogger or can pole dance or slink around like a tarantino character. It used to be hot and thrilling and fun, when I felt like it was connected and for love and sharing and caring. But now it all just is slutty and vapid and useless and cold. Like a sad clown. And thats not sexy, its dark and desperate. *this is about both VERY particular people and broad general strokes. There are several extremely amazing friends in the scene and outskirts thereof that truly inspire me and dont fall into this catagory in my mind, although they’d probably still be angry with me for dissing things ^^ the way I just did but. fuck it, this is MY journal entry and I can be irrational if I want to. 

You cant be open fucking minded ALL the time. Sometimes people really arent acting with anyones best intentions but their own. I’ve used up SO MUCH FUCKING ENERGY making myself soften and open and “woke” and trying to go with everybodys flow. And I’m exhausted and over it. I have my own principles and theres nothing wrong with having differing opinions than someone else. 

All summer I’ve been feeling like I’m a bad person for not liking or not understanding this hyper sexual scene in Austin. I thought, “why am I shaming a scene thats giving me opportunity to really shine and be free?” when, in an IDEAL world, yes thats what the scene could be. But in what actually fucking unfolds -- humans SUCK and dudes SUCK and girls SUCK and everybody (especially when horny) are fucking STUUUUPIIIIIDDDD and ideals get thrown out the window! people arent nearly as “woke” as I gave them the actual credit for. Seriously. So! I’m fuckin OUTTIE! 

I’ve felt broken up with a whole scene. FUck cheater guy, fuck poly, fuck orgies, fuck people who are reckless with my love. 

Back to the list:

I’ve been eating too much out of boredom. Which I’ll blame on lack of quality social interaction in this town. Where are the scholars? Where are the sexy edgy BRAINY people? I’m tired of hot people in little clothing in the summer. 

Ah! Another thing for the list. its been TOO FUCKING HOT OUT. FOR MONTHS. 100 DEGREES FOR MONTHS. thats enough to make anyone insane. 

So i’m sick of teenie boppers in their nothing outfits in the heat. 

I want old smart people in peacoats. I miss books and weather and frowns. Irritable debates about literature or physics or religious theories. 

I only like my own brand of cigarettes. 

My roommates are annoying me. I dont really like my house anymore. Theres too many humans and not enough square footage. Four people to one kitchen is TOO MUCH SHIT. EVERYONE BUYS THEIR OWN BANANAS AND THEY ALLLLLL GO BROWN ON THE TABLE. thats four peoples worth of bad bananas. FUcking stupid. 

I dont have a hairdresser here. Sometimes when I feel shitty I like to throw money at the problem. Buy something. Get a haircut. See a show. Etc. 

And my hairdresser love is in Philadelphia and getting a flight to get a haircut is slightly insane (without a longer visit)

I miss Adam. 

What else can I blame my upset on. Shitty politics, shitty weather, shitty social sexual scene in my town, I dont like my house, I dont like my hair. Its too expensive to live here. No one in my immediate acquaintance or friend circle seems interested in the sort of romantic relationship I’m seeking, nor if they did does anyone have the “it” factor I look for which I’ll *try* to describe maybe in another post. 

So. I sit inside my room and try to fix stupid remedial things as if itd make a big impact. I tidy and put away clothes in attempt to feel less cluttered but am too scared to make BIG cuts and BIG changes. So instead I light insence and watch netflix and eat too much. I have started going to Barre3 again more and have been semi regular with therapy so thats something. 

I really ought to start doing “morning pages” like the book Fiona loaned me suggests in its FIRST GODDAMN CHAPTER. But, alas, I am lazy. 

No, I have become recently lazy. 

I’m spoiled. I dont do things I dont want to do. Its a major character flaw. I only push and struggle if I see worthyness in it, and lately theres been serious lack of evidence of that in, well, anything.

 #depression! 

so, I guess in summation- because nothing has been a WORTHWHILE struggle, EVERYTHING feels like a struggle. Humph. thats... thats not good. But it does, because i dont see the worth in a lot of goals or tasks or even relationships, (and i dont mean the greedy “what can I GET for ME out of this!” sort of b.s.) (I mean the... conserve precious energy, is this going to teach me something or help me grow as a person or bring love into my life sort of vibe) ...

when I dont think the energy expenditure is going to pay off, I dont do it. Or I do it half way or lazily or with tentative fear. I guess I could do an experiment and just do everything with HOPE and see if my energy put in will get a different result... but. like. I feel like I did that all summer and he cheated on me. And my “friends” said “dont be angry, be poly” and I couldnt call on my Mom or Grandma and so I call on eating and isolation and running away to visit home where no one cares I dont have a job. where the house is big and the air is cold and my friends are smart. 

I really miss Kristian. That was one of the greatest feelings of self love in my entire life. I felt like, if someone that special noticed ME. Saw ME. Little old, semi chubby, not famous ME, and wanted me around for a couple tour dates. Then I ought to believe in myself TOO. I wanted to dance, I wanted to make art, I wanted to take photos, I wanted to be bold, I wanted to be humble, I felt so open and content with myself. I was motivated to work out, I was motivated to eat healthy and clean and small portions. It was easy. It felt so fun. I loved him. I dreamt big. My imagination was so warm and excited. My inner critic was GONE. 

But he faded away. He got back with his ex. The shooting star left the sky. I’m still grateful for the experience at all, but. 

I feel a little stupid for thinking anything could’ve happened. 

And I truly miss feeling so special and excited about life. 

I dont want to run away from Austin out of fear. But I cant tell if I’m unhappy and want to leave genuinely, or if this is the spoiled part of me thats like, “this sucks, lets leave.” instead of pushing though, curating something better with some struggle, and sticking it out. 

How do people make big life decisions like this? I feel like thats what marriages do. People stay together and fight. But sometimes they get divorced anyways, its just been longer. More years wasted. When maybe it wouldve been healthier to leave sooner and cut the cord and be free to live without, sooner. 

I really like a lot of things about this city. But I really dislike a lot too. And I cant tell where I want my life to go, in a grand sense, so its hard to pick which attributes will matter in the long run. 

I dont think I should leave yet. Maybe a new house. Or like, serious efforts to declutter this one. Is this just excuses? Ugh. 

Declutter this house. If that doesnt feel better, leave the house and move to a new part of austin. If that doesnt feel better, leave austin. 

I need a job. 

[ellerevelle]

its been way too long

Tumblr gave me an option to click on something to “see whats trending.” 

I dont care. All I know are my own trends. 

Overeating. Bingeing sessions. 

Bailing on workouts. 

Missing events a week ago I looked forward to. 

Staying in bed. 

Neglecting showering or simple self care like taking weeks old polish off my toes. 

Self sabotaging. 

It comes and goes. Sometimes I feel fine, to such a selfish extent I cant handle hearing other peoples woes because I’m scared if I use my energy on them I’ll fall back into my own. And that frightens me. I’m walking on a thread sometimes between being fine and being a slobbish, weak jello mess. 

Netflix runs almost constantly. They say it takes 22 days for a habit to form, well I think Netflix has been running the last year or so, at least. 

Thats why I like traveling so much. Very little internet access. 

Nothing but the outside world. Walking. Cities. People. Nature. Outward existence. 

But at home, I genuinely dont know what to do with my time. 

Thats when the judges step in and patronizingly tell me GET A JOB, DUMMY. 

But I’m petrified to try. I havent had a job since my Mom died. 

So my resume makes me cry. 

It. Is. So. BLANK. Trying to create one is like willingly asking to be punched in the face with ones own failures. So I dont. 

I spend money on food or other disposable things I dont need. Things that dont help me get to where I want to go. 

But where DO I want to go? 

How does one establish goals?

I feel like sometimes all I know is what I DONT want or DONT like. But lately I feel so wishy washy I’m not even sure about that. 

For example, if I DONT like being fat, why the fuck do I keep ordering 30 dollars worth of takeout for myself and demolish it in one go?! then lay in bed all day feeling awful?

Its even taken me months to open Tumblr again. I keep telling myself-- “I genuinely KNOW I do better when I workout at Barre3. I genuinely KNOW I NEEEEED to journal daily.”

But yet, I hardly do the first without being in a “good mood”, and I havent done the second at all. Until right now. 

Journaling is hard for me because I feel like I’m wasting a book :(

Or I tell myself my handwriting sucks or is too slow so I dont even bother. 

I know typing is going to be my foray into starting. Online journaling. So. 

Read at your own risk. 

[ellerevelle]

second week of the new year

and a lot has already happened. if I stoke the coals right, hell, if I stoke the coals at all... If I decide to stoke the coals I’ve laid out, 

this will be a week of some of the biggest changes in my life. 

Elizabeth Warren announced her desire to run for President.  My diet Purium shakes and supplements arrived in the mail.

I have been continuing the conversation of polyamory with Nat. 

I have begun not one, but two (maybe more) self help online courses: the M word, and LifeBook. 

and my inheritance from Grandma was released. I deposited the check an hour ago. 

So, mentally, emotionally, politically, physically, and financially... there are pieces moving that werent moving before.

I’m not totally sure what to say in any of these directions. But I want to commit to bringing my thoughts here as they arise. 

I will say, LifeBook is dredging up a LOT. I’m only on the very first category (out of 12) and I’m struggling. Its uncomfortable. The first bit of every category is addressing one’s beliefs. Particular focus on recognizing limiting beliefs and trying to instill positive ones. This gets covered in the video for the first.... quarter? Maybe ten or fifteen minutes in entiretiy on that subject. I need a fucking lifetime. 

My limiting beliefs dont immediately show themselves. Like, when I was doing the journaling work in the LifeBook pages, we had to discuss our Premise for ideal health and fitness. And I was all sunshine and rainbows and empowerment. But as the day/night went on and I explored more of the journaling assignments, questions came up to the forefront like “what are your limiting beliefs in this area, and what are your new empowering beliefs?” and seriously, that alone takes like... years in therapy to figure out and adjust!! And I know the LifeBook people arent asking us to be perfect. Theyre not expecting anything from us except honesty and effort. So I’m not worried about that. Its just... intense. 

We very naturally subconsciously avoid thinking about these limiting beliefs because theyre so engrained and have us fat and distracted, like a wicked dictator or something (ahem, Trump did a State of the Union address er whatever Monday night about the Mexico border wall. BARF. He sucks), of COURSE theyre gonna put up a fight when you try to uproot them! 

So I have been noticing blaring avoidance techniques. Ha, techniques. Netflix is not a technique. Candy bars are not a technique. 

But I dont want to avoid this work. I dont want to give up on uprooting these negative beliefs that dont serve me and havent been serving me for .... decades. 

But I was thinking, it ties in to why I loved being a gold star student. Why I STILL like it when people I admire admire me in return and acknowledge me. Because like... its positive proof. 

When we’re sad, our inner voice tells us terrible things about ourselves that we believe to be true. UNTIL an outside force- a friend, a boss, a lover, a stranger, says something contrary. Outside evidence. 

It feels legit like a LIE or like DISILLUSIONMENT to simply tell myself new beliefs. 

Example:

I’m struggling with the Health and Fitness beliefs because there are some deeply rooted ones in victimhood. While I do believe my body is amazing and capable, and that I deserve to feel amazing and have the power to do so, I have a fear attached. I do not want to be viewed as a sex object. I do not want to be someone who is just seen as pretty. I do not want to be hot and subsequently be followed home by creeps. I do not want to be cat called. I do not want to be raped. 

And looking better... invites creeps. A limiting belief is that if I look better, thinner, more beautiful, then lightly I’ll be perceived as just a pretty face, and worst I’ll be catcalled and sexually harassed. 

Is that a limiting belief? I mean, yes its limiting, but I cant nail down the fact statement. I guess, itd be: Looking beautiful invites judgement and sexual harassment. 

And I definitely know I started gaining weight after dog walking in Philly. And my body image and sexual image was damaged after times I’d make out with Jesse and he’d want to rush and do more and I wasnt into it, just wanted to be romantic and make out and sleep, but he’d want to fuck and when I’d deny him, he LEGIT rolled to the farthest reaches of the very cliff’s edge of the bed, as far away from me as he possibly could get without falling on the floor. Immediately. No communication, just a nonverbal “oh, no sex? fuck you” and roll away. Lights off. Silence. 

When I didnt sleep with him, he didnt feel loved. So he didnt show me love. He’d hug and kiss his friends in front of me, his face would glow. They’d get the warmth and love, but because I wasnt spreading my legs and having my cervix fucking bruised, I got the cold shoulder. Which, guess what! doesnt inspire me to get aroused at all. I felt like my personality, my soul, didnt matter. In lack of love, in lack of MENTAL stimulation and attention, care for my soul... I turned off my sex. And that turned off my care for my gut. I didnt want him to want me. So I subconsciously made myself less attractive. 

I didnt want dudes to catcall me while walking around in Philly. So I subconsciously made myself less attractive. 

So here, now, I’m 30, its 2019. I’m sick of being so close to 200lbs. Like... WHEN did that happen? Fuck. If I let myself slip any more, I’m gonna be 200 lbs. Which is BULLSHIT. 

I am a strong beautiful capable athlete. I want to be sensual and magnetic and swift and bubbly. I want a tiny middle. I want strong legs. I want lithe arms. I want lithe EVERYTHING. I just asked Alexa what “lithe” means and I LOVE it. Graceful and bending with ease. 

Right now I feel like a chubby, bumbling embarrassment. Truly. I am embarrassed. 

I deserve better. But then, why havent I started the meal shake Purium plan? I mean, I guess its obvious... Shakes are gross compared to tacos and cake. Duh. But... I know it’ll work. I just bought a baguette today. My rationale is that I’m gonna finish the food I’ve cooked in the fridge. Waste not. I spent the money and effort to make the food, I should use it. THEN I’ll start the diet. 

I’m gonna fucking do it. I already like the supplements. It just feels like there are a lot of people in my life I’m afraid of losing or explaining these changes to for fear of sounding lame or uncool. Or dorky even. Like, I wanted to sleep last night but Anders insisted on calling me. Its morning in Vienna where he is, so he was drinking tea bright as could be. I felt kind of used. He always ALWAYS drifts to sexual talk with me. See! Back to this theme! Men ALWAYS tell me I’m sexy and whatever and its like... I cant help that dude. YOU can. YOU can be normal and try to not fuckin NEED to fuck me. I dont exist for your pleasure. But I worry that Anders is so smart and clever and funny and educated that I have nothing to offer him, other than my feminine personality and smile and sexual energy :( Which I’m grateful I have, but like... thats not all I want to be. Thats another limiting belief. Is...

What if that IS all I am? Sexual energy and a cute personality? That DEFINITELY limits me. And thats where the gold star student comes out -- I WANT someone else outside of myself to TELL me I’m great. To remind me of what I already know, really, but like... 

If I simply tell myself I’m great and smart and better and more than just sex, what if thats being cocky? What if its not true? What if I’m delusional? Thats when depression really kicks in. Because I can tell myself any sort of thing in my head, and then the outside world gives me evidence either way. 

And to be honest, the reason the beliefs are there in the first place is because, well, theres been proof. The Jesse thing, the Anders thing, a million other times, that seem to point to “yea, that IS what you’re best for, Jo. Accept it.” 

I want a knight in shining armor, a Fairy Godmother, to come in and say NO! You ARE more, and here’s why! Here’s examples! Here’s a lifelong of examples! You simply must change your filter of hearing! You must reject these vampires and ONLY accept what you want! 

But its like... whats the Einstein thing about asking a fish to climb a tree... What if I’m a fish and trying to believe otherwise is like wanting to climb a tree, thats gonna A) look ridiculous and B) be an impossible task and break me down over time if I dont realize that. 

How do I change limiting beliefs without outside proof? Without outside acknowledgement? 

Faith?

Like... someone telling you Yes, there are stars behind the clouds. You cant see them, and its gonna be cloudy for months, so you wont see them at all for a long long long time. But theyre there. So believe. 

The clouds are these negative thoughts. Blocking my view of the truth. And its been cloudy my entire life. But I want clarity! I deserve my beautiful cold, clear, crystal night with stars like tiny freckles and huge diamonds and strong like brothers and friends. I deserve that clarity. Do I have to earn it? Or is it just... Faith that its there is enough?

I was addicted to school because I loved having a teacher tell me I’m smart. I already knew, but it wasnt real until someone else said it. What the hell is that? It wasnt REAL. Seriously. Let that sink in, its sinking in-- things seriously didnt even feel REAL, things inside my own head. Things I knew about myself, TO THIS DAY, DONT FEEL REAL until someone else remarks on them. I think the only things I trust in that I do is like... I can cook. There’s proof outside my body which I then can consume again, and I know its good. My food is good. 

But like... the heavier stuff. The “you are not a slut. you are more than a woman’s body. you are more than a sexual vibe” ... is so hard to believe without somebody telling me to believe. I guess reminders are good. But like, I’ve built my house on other people’s foundation, other people’s stilts of support.

So I guess, taking control of my physical fitness... I’m willing to take the reigns and say YES I DO look good, Yes I DO feel fit, YES I am capable, and those changes were made and earned by ME. Those stars I know I can attain and understand and befriend. But its the outside world then, that scares me from trying. I guess its more back to the WHY... WHY do I want to get fit. Because, as it stands, its been WHY DO YOU NOT WANT TO BE FIT. I do NOT want to be fit because if my body is gross then men will stop wanting me sexually and hopefully my brain and soul will take the forefront. 

I think I’m tangling my strings here. I know physical looks arent all to blame. A lot of it is mental, its how I carry myself and how I allow people to treat me. Blah. I dont know. 

I also know food is comfort to me in a major way. Its a thing to share, its a thing to indulge in, its like a friend. Its like something or someone who wants to take care of me. A gift to myself, a hug. Food takes care of me. Netflix too, but for now we’re talking about diet. 

So letting that go feels... sad. I legit bought TWO candy bars today. Because I figured I wouldnt be enjoying these friends for a long time when I start this diet, so may as well tuck in now real quick. Crazy. Food ties to memories, its so fun, its like a special paint color. Taste is an important sense to me in memory making, in love. I remember so many special meals with family, friends, out traveling, alone at bars, the scene of it all. I enjoy that. The binge eating kettle corn or nutella or doritos, that I dont enjoy. That is a lonely echo of an attempt of the romance of food memories of a restaurant. Those binges are attempts to find comfort, that fun feeling, that “you’re cared for” feeling. By indulging, I tell myself, its okay darling youre worth it, youre worth this deliciousness, youre awesome. feel better.

So how do I retrain that? Some youtube video or book would probably say, okay well, by hanging on to those beliefs, what are you missing out on?

One of my favorite quotes of all time, which I should memorize if its such a favorite, is by Anais Niin 

               And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was                                more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

So... has the day come when the holding on to binging and comfort in this isolated pseudo way, the risk of staying this way forever, hurts more than letting it go and living differently? 

I’m not at a rock bottom, but I do know that I love my car. And what I mean by this is I love my car and when something breaks I get really bummed out because I know then I have to go somewhere, spend money, spend time, and fix it. And I love my car, I want to treat her right and drive her forever because she’s fucking great and we’ve been through so much. So I want to do what I can to make sure nothing breaks. Because I dont know how to fix it. Once I break it, its not gonna just fix itself. 

So, with my body, fixing a broken part is WAY more complicated. And its not like I can easily run out and get a new foot or new hip or new kidney without a hell of a lot of fuss and money and time and pain. If I think fixing the brakes on my car sucks, I am NOT prepared or desirous of having to fix broken body parts. 

So I gotta start driving this shit WAYYYYY more mindfully. Some parts CANT get replaced, you’ve just gotta drive broken for the rest of your life. HELL NAW! I gotta do the work NOW and forever so as to maintain optimal health and not deal with pain and money and mental anguish later. THIS IS A BIG DEAL. 

So with that, the pain of letting go of binging is less than the pain of risking injury, organ failures, hormonal fuckery, diabetes, heart problems, etc. 

So as much as I want to LOOK better, I want to FEEL better and literally FUNCTION better. it doesnt really address the emotional psychological pain of the slut shaming sex cat calling stuff, but it does help shift focus and get on track?

I guess I cant wait to fix and align everything before I start. I have to just, start. 

I have to go to bed on time. I have to get up on time and take the supplements and DO the PLAN. Take the pills and drink the shakes and do the work. Space it out. Face the fear. 

I need to face the fear. I need to ride the bike. Its uncomfortable. I fell so much and cried a lot and hated it. So they let me stop. 

I havent even really fallen down, here. I’m just afraid to fall down. So I’m not even trying. 

I can’t let me quit. 

[ellerevelle]

polyamory

or is it just hookup culture

both exist. i dont think what im involved in is deep enough to be considered a polyamorous relationship, because i dont think this guy likes me enough to consider me a person he’s in a relationship with. I’m in that point where I’m afraid to ask him anything for fear of scaring him away. Which isn’t healthy at all, I realize. 

We went to a BDSM dungeon party friday night. I admitted to him that thats extremely intimidating to me. New places in general, new bars, new friends houses, new places freak me out and make me feel anxiety. So this was definitely, obviously, in that vein as well. But we went in, and my confidence felt normal. I wasnt buzzing with comfort, I didnt feel myself glowing (I miss that feeling) but it wasnt scary. If anything it felt neutral. And I felt okay because he and I were together. Hooking up with him wasnt frightening or anything at all, I felt safe because I felt wanted by him. It was liberating. Then again, there wasnt a ton of competition, he even said the next day that he didnt really think anyone else there was attractive. So I wonder if things wouldve been different had there been sexier women there. 

I have no idea how to feel right now. 

He just messaged me via facebook and didnt ask, he simply said “i'm gonna spend the night with my new friend Ali tonight,”

and continued on, “ does that make you feel any particular way to hear me say?”

And I hesitated in a major way. To be honest, my stomach dropped. Same way my stomach dropped when I was over there Friday night before we left for our event and found an open condom at the foot of his bed. I mean, I know we’re not exclusive, I’ve known that from the start. And have been down with it from the start. I had sex with someone else, too. And definitely dont hesitate flirting or carrying on with people when he’s not around. Which is why I’m not sure how I feel right now. Its a double standard, right? That I’m imposing? I want to be the apple of his eye, of everyone’s fucking eye... I want to be the only one, but yet I want to have the freedom to do what I want and not be judged or managed or shamed... 

But I like legit hate this feeling now. I hate that he’s with somebody else, that he’s excited to spend time with some new other girl. I’m trying to be confident, to know that humans are humans and we all have different things to offer and she’s not me and I’m not her, and that there are things about me that are very special and that him sleeping with her doesnt negate anything about how rad I am. 

But like, if he thinks I’m rad and likes me, why not just... ask me to hang out tonight? It makes my insecurities skyrocket. Like, am I not interesting enough? Not pretty enough, funny enough? Was I not as cool as I thought I was? Am I being TOO clingy now that he and I are getting more comfortable? Am I setting myself up as the hookup BDSM group party friend? Because although I am excited about exploring that without judgement or slut shaming, my HEART NEEEEDS so much more... I’m scared. Multi level scared, like... He asked “does that make you feel any particular way to hear me say?” 

I wanted to type YES YES IT DOES MAKE ME FEEL A PARTICULAR WAY AND I DONT LOVE IT. but like... fuck man, like... does that ruin everything? he wont reconsider hanging out with her if I dont like it. I feel like he’d just still hang with her and reconsider ME. 

I want to be special enough for someone to prioritize. I guess maybe him deciding to ask me IS showing me he respects me? But it kinda feels like a trick question sortof? I mean... he wasnt asking me if it was okay for him to sleep with her. that part of the message was a statement of fact. 

The question was, does it make me FEEL something. that feels like a trick question. Does he want me to feel jealous? I kindof wish he did... Like, if he felt jealous of some other guy I’m sleeping with, I’d feel flattered. And consider trying to be more monogomous to consider his feelings, tbh. 

So what if I’d said, yes that makes me feel jealous? 

And then like... what if thats bad and then my jealousy scares him off or bothers him or makes him worry that theres pressure on him now and all the other things women do to men and men do to women in relationships...!?! I know he’s afraid of expectations, he said so in a voicemail and has never brought it back up... which I find quite telling. Its clear he’s scared. Which is kindof what I considered, warp speed, before I typed my reply to him on facebook fucking messenger. 

Because, you know, conversations of the heart deserve a rich and immersive platform, LIKE FACEBOOK FUCKING MESSENGER -___-

I replied to him with two gifs. 

One was a “eehhhhh I dont knoooooowww about this....” squidgy eyed shrug sortof face. 

Then the next one was a “go for it girl” wink from The New Girl. 

Then I wrote 

“ i think polyamory is great, the experience with you has been my first foray into it and so while i have pangs of hesitation, all in all im confident in myself and fucking love our chemistry and feel a smoothness to it all“

I dont totally feel a smoothness to it all. What I really wanted to say was, “just help me feel special. as long as I feel special to you, like, you show me that I matter to you, I’m down with other women in your life. Just dont make me feel like I’m just a consolation prize or a second thought or like, a back burner sort of person.  Make me feel special, that you know I’m awesome, and I’m okay” 

But I dont know if that would have read well. 

With my ex, that didnt go well. I didnt articulate it in a manner he understood and I guess I came off sounding like a controlling diva princess. Which I still dont totally understand but, hey, we’re all biased to whats in our own heads. Our own words and opinions always make sense to US because theyre OURS, right? So yea. I didnt type all that. 

I tried to come off as cool. Hesitant, but confident. So I hope that he like... sees that and like, sees me being cool and KNOWS that I’m special. Because I imagine not everyone would reply like that? Fuck me man. FUUUCKK, see!? all this big long post... I’m not cool about this. 

Who is she? Is she hotter, funnier, cooler? better in bed? is it a psychology thing, like shes a NEW person so thats intriguing? Younger? Harder to get? I’ll never know unless we talk about it but I’m concerned talking about it I’ll slip up and say the wrong thing and lose this whole situation, then he’ll DEFINITELY sleep with other people and DEFINITELY put me on the back burner and OMG insecurities suck.

I just want somebody to see me as awesome as I feel, and say nice things and want to be around me the way I want to be around them. I want to share and make music and food with someone I love and tell them theyre great and make out and make love and be proud to hold hands at a party and have no one else because we’ve got all we need and aint nobody gon’ step to our awesomeness because we’re royalty. Like having a best friend. Like a beeeeeest friend. 

I asked him if shes coming to his New Years Day party. I’ve been looking forward to going for a few days now, but now I’m realizing I wont necessarily be the apple of his eye. I’m horrible at competing for attention, especially in a blatant way. Plus I think it puffs up men’s egos too much to like, fawn for attention. I know I just have to be myself and if he sees me and notices and comes over to give ME attention then thats great, and if not I’m still just present and being myself and thats as pure as it has to be...

But I have a knot in my stomach now. Im trying really hard to be cool while still dropping hints of like, Hey I want you to treat me like a lady and maybe kiss my cheek and tell me its all gonna be okay, so to speak. 

I dont want to need to be coddled. But I’m not that indifferent of a person. I want to KNOW how people feel about me. 

I guess it could be cool tho, to like... be sexy and sexual and know he’s into me but okay with me expressing myself with other people. That is actually pretty cool, if thats whats happening. 

But then why am I having such a hard time turning it around and being happy for him and confident for him and psyched for him to be with other people? 

I feel like, ideally, I want to be with someone super hot and sexy and JUST into me, but to have the same intentions of like... kicking ass and taking names TOGETHER. Like, having threesomes or group sex and dominating the room, having everyone love us and fawn over us, but KNOW that we’re a TEAM and that without a single down we kick ass TOGETHER and are only in love with each other. That we can be physical and enjoy other people but at the end of the day we’re the ones in charge, our love is untouchable and although other people are fun and part of the mix, that nothing can reach the pinnacle of awesome that is us. 

THAT would be tight. But I dont think he’s in that frame of mind. Nor am I sure that I’d even want that with someone I’m not in love with. And I’m not in love with him. Not yet any way. There’s so much more to learn first. SOOOOOOO much more to learn first. 

Our “relationship”? does feel more mature though. At least for me. I am (contrary to this journal entry) much more brave about saying things out loud to him. I feel like I can confess and be more truthful about my opinions and what I need. Not entirely, but definitely more than with my ex. 

uuuugh I feel sad and weird. Probably gonna clean my room and pirate some version of Spirited Away offline. 

He just sent me a last little thing, because I said “have a good time tonight, be safe plz (implying please use a condom) and I’ll see ya next year.”

To which he replied “I absolutely will. Sending love hunnybunch.”

So he’s sending love... 

Thats at least a smidge of ease off the knot in my stomach. I just wanna feel special :/ I hope she knows about ME. I want some manner of authority here. Although I dont tell other people I flirt or hook up with that I’m sleeping with him... But should I? Are we stepping into actual relationship territory? 

I feel like if I knew where he placed me in this then I’d have more solid footing. But how the fuck do I ask that without sounding like a total dweeb/ or Nazi / or chaperone / or old lady? 

FUUUCK I feel so dumb! 

How can I feel less dumb?

No one is gonna read this far. 

Goodnight. 

[bluesick]

[the-revolution-continues]

Credit: Liesl Manone.

[maevegreen]

I just spammed my FB page with these…not sorry.

[somewhereinthedetails217]

VOTE

[tastefullyoffensive]

“The morning dew perfectly captured my dog’s erratic freedom run.” Photo by Babolattack (larger version)

[patsy-navarro]

nyoooooooom

[matchagirl]

[gored-veggies]

[ellerevelle]

I have some controversial opinions and have no idea where to go with them. Living in an extremely artistic, musical, creative community that is supportive of the liberal side and expressing feminism and gender fluidity and is mega 420 friendly and leaning towards socialism. and while I love it all and agree with pretty much everything, I feel kindof squished out, boxed out, if I want to talk about missing “manly” men. If I accidentally slip and say something like “man up” or “gotta have balls” or something colloquial, i instantly feel like an asshole. I guess those are bad examples because I actually hate those phrases. Women are strong as fuck, balls are weak. Anyways. I find myself feeling annoyed when people want to smoke weed all the time. Its in my house constantly and really starting to bother me. Everyones functional, but its just... I dont partake, and feel very much like the odd man out. Why cant we just... enjoy our minds the way they are? I shouldnt take it personally, but I do. I kindof always have. Feeling offended in learning that the whole time I was spending time with someone, they were high. I often cant tell. Anyways... in my community, being not-420-friendly is like, frowned upon. I dont talk about it. Same way I’m kindof afraid of ever making mention of the simple enjoyment of being taken care of by a man. I want a boyfriend who’s comfortable spending money with me, on me. Nothing crazy. Just, going out to a movie. I dont want a sugar daddy who buys me weekly manicures and whatever. Jewelry is overrated. But I’m bouncing back from a relationship where I was made to feel shitty for asking for nice experiences from him. He got me a Justin Bieber calendar for Christmas. Like... just... no. I’d rather have had nothing. I never wanted to shame him about money stuff... I guess it was a piece of the puzzle of our demise as partners. I feel like the way social norms are moving, acceptance is of course incredible and important, but its becoming fuzzy to me like... nothing is a problem. the structure is so loose, that yes more spectrums of people feel safe, but there seems to be less like, obvious pillars to try and raise oneself up to. I hate to say it, but I miss men striving to be men. Toxic masculinity, NO. no no no. But like... wanting to be a supporter, a team player, interest in taking action physically, ... I should just control select all and delete this entire post. I remember shopping with my ex when we were dating and feeling really annoyed that he’d ALWAYS go to the women’s section. And pick such flowery female silouettes. I didnt want to date that guy. I wasnt turned on by that guy. I didnt feel inspired by that guy. And I feel like a total asshole for it. I want to be comfortable with it, I’d always be supportive in store, and try and pick things I thought would fit him. But later, at home, when sex would come up, I honestly wouldnt be that into instigating anything. I didnt want to crawl onto the lap of the guy who just bought a rose covered blouse. I guess its just taste, but I have no idea where or when or even IF its appropriate at all to talk about this stuff. Everything seems like such a live wire, as if me talking about liking one thing immediately must mean that I hate the opposite. Like by saying you prefer chocolate must mean you hate vanilla, even though you’ve said no such thing. Is this in my head? Are people more capable than I’m giving them credit for? I fear that everything/one is so sensitive that it is MY responsibility to curb the things I say, always. To run through filter, then another filter, then another, and THEN say it. I dont want to be part of any problem. Maybe I just need to move to a city with more cowboys. BUT WAIT I’m already in FUCKING TEXAS. what is happening. I want a man who can lift me up and carry me around and I can wear his clothes and they’ll look like boyfriend clothes. I want him to not smoke weed all the time. To maybe not even own a bowl. I want him to not be shy to treat me like the classic idea of a “lady”. I miss being somebody’s girl. I’m tired of being tougher or more boyish or fatherly than dudes around me. If we go dutch on a date, I’m not psyched. I couldve done that with a friend. A friend who wouldnt pressure me to sleep with them. I go dutch, split the bill, I dont owe you shit. I hate going dutch on dates. Dont ask me out if you dont want to do something a little extra sweet. Show me you care. Instigating a date is great, but at that point its a friendly relationship. If you want more from me, you gotta show me you can take care of me. Is that going against feminism? Wanting to be taken care of? I’m talking heart-love care, and financial. Not just about money. but about generosity of spirit. about WANTING to ease my mind. Anyways. Ramble over. 

[firsthome]

[firsthome]

[ellerevelle]

dream life

[mashmashmadness]

[nitrogen]

By Alexi Hobbs

[deegaynolds]

like to charge reblog to cast