Marry me. Own me.

Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home—my only home.

― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

My big term paper in 12th grade AP English was about Jane Eyre, specifically the concept of love in Jane Eyre. I've been trying to create my home my entire life. I never had one place that I could call home. I had a smattering of locations, and all of them together just wasn't home. But I found a home inside myself that I carried with me everywhere. It was safe. I made forts with pillows and blankets and my pink depression glass lamps I've had my whole life; and I would read The Boxcar Children and Nancy Drew. I don't remember a lot of snacks, but my mother often bought graham crackers, so those I remember more than anything else. That was my "home".

I was told that my real home would someday be with a partner, a husband. He would give my life meaning. He would take all of the idiosyncrasies about me and somehow create meaning from them. He, this unknown person, was the only way I could become whole and complete. He was the only way  that someone would care about me the way I imagined was possible. He would care that I hate watermelon and love swings at the fair. He would listen to me when I wanted to talk, because it would be his job to listen and care. In sum, my future husband would love me the way no one else could.

Well I'm 31 years old, and I'm not married. I've never been married. I haven't met this amazing person who is going to save me, change my life so completely I'll finally be whole. So I've had to learn along the way that life is too hard to wait for this person to arrive. Life is too long to wait for someone that may never come.

Whatever the truth, I've learned that one person doesn't "complete" another person, and so to even strive for that is a futile occupation. Don't I deserve to be complete all on my own? Don't I deserve to be loved all on my own? And don't I deserve to be fully known without a spouse? Yes, yes, and a resounding yes.

So I find my home all within myself, and I carry it with me wherever I go.

Rummage Sale Planning - Part 2

This is possibly the most beautiful photograph I have ever taken.

So planning events is not something I am awesome at, not because I don't have experience. I have loads of experience. It's just the energy, and the neurotic stress I typically take upon myself. Stress makes me lose sleep at night, and then crash after the event for days, wishing I'd been more relaxed.

Now I have the opportunity to do that, to relax more, and stress less, to truly and fully adopt the persona I've been faking for so long: that I truly believe that everything will be okay, turn out well, etc. This involves not constantly thinking about said event, letting other people imagine things they would like to contribute, and not obsessing over the details. Because in the end, the purpose is to raise money, and that will happen. We will also add another life cycle to a piece of clothing or furniture.

Last but not least, we will raise awareness of a part of the world that has been largely forgotten (I mean, if we're not paying attention to our own wars, it makes sense that we wouldn't pay much attention to those we're only loosely affiliated with). So on that note, you can read here about what the sale will be supporting.

Love to all :)

Frugal tip of the day - Free Yoga :)

 
So I've been doing a lot of yoga lately. I started about a year ago, give or take, and it has helped me to stay calm as my life has become increasingly more diverse, and I take on more responsibility over my own life and the lives of others. In light of my extreme poverty this summer, I stopped going to my yoga studio. I think it's been months since I was last there, and every time I thought of it, I got a little sad. But then I had an idea. YouTube!

So I am now practicing more than ever, with friendly yogis who've done the world a huge service by donating their time and talent to the world wide web. My spine is straighter, my brain is clearer, and I'm generally a happier person (also, my blood sugar is always better with yoga than with any other form of exercise). I did this one yesterday, and tried a pose I'd never done before. I don't know what I'm going to do when I go back to my garage, and lose out on the benefit of a living room to spread out in ;)

But just in case you're wondering, I will definitely go back to my local neighborhood studio when I have the funds to do so. I think it's important to support the people who pour their lives into the health of the community.

Thriftspiration.

El Vaquero Valerio Giuntoli boots - booyah :) Pretty freakin' awesome.

Do you like how big the photo is? Do ya? Do ya? You're welcome.

So in an effort to discover the origin of these freakin' awesome boots, I ended up on Italian eBay, looking at shoes, and boy was that a good time. They were all so colorful! I wish I had a ton of money to spend on shoes.

Why aren't we all buying more Italian leather shoes? I found these blue leather heels. They were unlike anything I'd ever seen, and they made me drool. What can I say? Even I, the lover of trash and all things used, can easily get drawn in to consumerist lust. Seriously, I cannot contain my glee, so I'll share it with you: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 (oh, and I can't resist - 6).

I am spending the weekend probably reading scandalous literature to my mother in the hospital. If I don't keep her adequately entertained, I imagine that she will be more prone to sexually harassing cute young male orderlies/nurses/doctors and blaming it on the morphine. I take it upon myself to be a buffer - not in a codependent way, just in an effort to have more men in my life.

Peace out mofos :)

Part II: Scars and Clumsiness

Define yourself radically as one beloved by God.

-Brennan Manning

So I'm lying on the canal trail, bleeding, with asphalt in my wounds and the terrible bad luck to have twisted one ankle, but fallen on the opposite side. Both sides were inoperable, and even though I lived a quarter mile away, there was no way I could get there on my own. So I figured I'd wait it out, lie on the pavement and wait for a car to drive by. I was close enough to a street lamp that I was covered in a dull yellow light.

Several minutes later, a kind, caring couple stopped in their car. They put me in their Volvo and drove me home (so close, yet so far). We'd never met, and in that delirious moment, I wasn't sure they were real (again, low blood sugar + runner's high + serious injury = delirium).

I ended up being in crutches for a week. I couldn't work because of the terrain of the job, so I lived on my couch with my legs in the air, hoping I hadn't done permanent damage that would lead to a foot amputation (I was an uninsured diabetic with a foot injury; my mind wouldn't stop swirling with worry).

When my wounds healed, which they all eventually did, I had a bright red heart-shaped scar on my knee. And for some reason, I felt like it meant something. I felt loved and protected, and today, that scar reminds me of that feeling. I don't feel foolish for running at night, or for running alone. I don't feel silly for getting hurt at the beginning of a new job. I don't feel those things, because of that little heart, reminding me that I am loved unconditionally, even radically.

Many more times in the next few years, I would experience similar reminders, none of them visible scars, but all of them tattooed on my memory forever.

Scars and clumsiness

This morning I saw this collection of photos on The Huffington Post. Scars are often jarring, disconcerting things when seen from the perspective of onlookers. But by-and-large, people seem to be proud of their scars. This surprised me; I'm not sure why (Obviously, this is not an unbiased sample, though).

I have huge scars on both knees and I don't feel entirely fond of them. They're only a reminder of my clumsiness. In my crazed long-distance running days, I fell a lot, always on asphalt. One of these injuries was particularly bad. I'd just started a new job, and the human resources manager asked me to stay after my shift to work an employment fair with her. At the time, I had even less of an ability to say "No" than I do now, so even though I was exhausted, I went.

By the time I got home, it was dark, and I had to run out my stress. There was a mile-long paved trail right by my house, lit at night, and I ran laps. By the end, I had that runner's high combined with low blood sugar and maybe some dizziness. I tripped, and fell, sprained an ankle and a foot, and busted my knee. I couldn't get up and was bleeding all over myself. It was dark outside and there was no one around.

I'll finish the story tomorrow. Oo! A cliffhanger!

"Natural" remedies

In honor of being sick, I give you a list of herbal remedies I use obsessively:

1. Crushed garlic (severe cold/flu)
2. Warm Garlic/Olive Oil blend (ear infection)
3. Goldenseal/Echinacea (moderate cold/flu)
4. Vitamin C (mild cold/flu)
5. Cranberry capsules (urinary anything)

When I was trying to cure myself of diabetes, and wasn't taking any meds, I used:

1. Cinnamon
2. Prickly Pear Cactus
3. Chromium
4. Taurine

On a normal day, I take the following (vegan overload):

1. Vitamin B Complex
2. Prenatal Multivitamin (for the extra iron)

My un-straight spine

I kinda wish I had a job where I could be a little more flashy. In some ways, I feel like the way I might normally dress, even nicely, might draw too much attention to me, and my work is not about me.

When I get dressed, I don't think about how I want to look, or what I feel like wearing that day. I just pull out my slacks, and pick a shell and sweater that I haven't worn together lately. Then I try to make my face look like I haven't slept in hay, cover up my white lips, add some earrings, and it's an outfit. My medical ID bracelet is the only other "jewelry" I have. I believe I've previously disclosed my inability to wear necklaces. Maybe in another year or so, I'll try a necklace one day, when my neck is all the way straight.

I have a lot of tension in my neck and shoulders. This is something that I have dealt with for a long time, but is only becoming worse over time. Yoga helps, but it doesn't fix it. The best thing that I have found is getting adjusted by a chiropractor, and not little tweaking-major wrenching.

Maybe I am unique in this way, maybe not, but my spine is not as it should be. Working with a chiropractor has begun a reversal process (reversing what, I don't exactly know). The process isn't complete, but it is a whole lot better than it ever has been in my adult life. Thank you awesome chiropractor-you've helped me stand truly straight, for maybe the first time in my life :)