Cultural Autobiography

Cultural Autobiography

My cultural background is mixed, but I am always been quite fascinated by it. I was told I was English, Irish, Scottish and Welsh as a child, and as an adult I have questioned that so I have opened an account with Ancestry.com and used their DNA kit to discover my heritage. I discovered I am in fact Irish, Scottish & Welsh (32%), Scandinavian (17%) and also my heritage can be traced back to the western parts of Europe such as France, Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands (31%), Italy/Greece (7%) as well as eastern Europe like Poland, Ukraine, Belarus, Romania (6%) (it was not as precise as I would have hoped). All in all about 97% European, as I assumed and it matched up with the family history I had uncovered as well.

In my early childhood I was blessed with the opportunity that my family hosted several Foreign Exchange Students. Our first student was from Germany when I was about 4-years-old. Her name was Eva and she was one the swim team at the high school. I think she is the reason I love to swim as much as I do. I do not have many memories of her, just that she had a pixie cut and raven black hair and she was pale as snow and I remember how sweet and kind she was to me, and she treated me as if I were her little sister, reading me books and always making time for me. Our next exchange student was Andrea from Slovenia. She was a buxom blonde who wore a lot of the typical 90’s acid washed jeans and loose-fitting plaid button-up over a plain white tee. Then there was Peter from Hungary, he was a bookish young man who wore glasses and liked to sit on our roof. About this time we had Ekaterina, or as we called her Katya. She was a tall pale redhead from Russia. She was absolutely stunning, but she was an ice-queen. She had been very well taken care of in Russia by her family. They spoiled her and sent her money often. She was not as warm to me as Eva had been and she probably though I was a pest. I remember her collecting dolls (which I loved and wanted desperately to play with) and she drew often, many of the times she drew Vampires, of which she was obsessed. She was a Vampire for Halloween that year. Looking back she may be a large part of the reason I pursued an artistic life, why I love fashion and many other things. Lastly there was Julia, a student from China but I do not believe she lived with us long. I do not remember Andrea, Peter or Julia living with us long, several of our students changed households while in America.

We were invited by Eva to visit Germany and stay with her family, and of course we accepted. We went to Germany when I was maybe 5 or 6 and I believe we stayed there for weeks, but as a child everything seems to last so much longer than it really does so who knows. We travelled and visited many countries, Morocco, England, France, Denmark, Belgium, etc. It was a magical experience, and I have wanted to return ever since. I remember only some events, one such was getting fully outfitted in equestrian gear, (helmet, riding pants with chaps and padding, a vest and a turtleneck sweater and riding boots) built in such as riding a Lipizzaner horse and it rearing with me in the saddle and I remained calm,. Then I remember Eva’s family remarking how well I had done and insisting I should stay to learn to ride. They ran an equestrian business of some sort. I remember eating waffles in Belgium, and buying a garter in France. I recall going to a market because I was a picky eater and would not try many of the different foods and I picked out a jar of miniature hotdogs and eggs. I remember peering into the edge of the Black Forest and how much it looked like a place of fairytales.

My multicultural experience as a child puts me in a minority in America. How many children get to interact with people intimately from 6 different countries for a year? How often do children get to experience another country and see the culture first hand? Few, the rich and the military are the types of families I can imagine that see what I got to see all before I was 10 years old.

During my late childhood, between about 7 and 13 years old, my family met several Irish families who had emigrated to America. We spent every holiday with them and they became our extended family and have since heavily influenced my cultural outlook, my identity and my deep abiding desire to move to the United Kingdom. I feel all these cultural experiences colored my worldview and broadened my perspectives.

We moved to Clovis when I was 13 and I grew to loathe being told what to do, being asked was one thing I had no problem with, but being “forced” made me dig my heels in and do the opposite. My rebellious streak was always there, it just grew as I hit puberty. I am a natural rule follower, but if I feel like people tell me I cannot do it, I want to sometimes. Assuredly I was in the majority here, teens all like to rebel on some level.

I was raised in a “liberal” Mormon household, where my mother taught me to think for myself and never trust that I could depend upon a man. That is a bit counter-culture in Mormonism, where women are designated to the realm of the home primarily and told not to work unless it is necessary. I was taught by my mother to get an education and be able to support myself, and the Latter-Day Saint Church does encourage everyone, men and women, to get a college degree if possible, just a woman’s education often is of no practical use. She also had a more lenient view on the Word of Wisdom (the lifestyle guidelines in the Latter-Day Saint church), where caffeine is typically a no-no my mom was a heavy Pepsi drinker, and I became a regular tea drinker. I also was not held back from having feelings for the opposite sex, whereas the church guidelines basically forbid dating exclusively until after age 16. Those, in my life, seemed like small differences but they were hugely different than all the children I was raised with. My LDS upbringing within Mormon culture would be a minority, to be an active member and yet not follow all the rules, even more odd is that we were open about our differences!

 I was also raised with the typical “Christian guilt” that sin brings, and it heavily affected my childhood and my teen years. I was a very judgmental child and teen, and my mind did not expand until I went through my own trials. Me sinning as a teen colored my views, I could no longer judge people who had done what I had done because that would make me a hypocrite. I struggled with the idea that I had failed God, that my mistakes meant I was worthless and that I could never recover. I also felt alienated by the members my age, which did nothing to help me attend church. I felt lost, adrift and lonely but I still kept my beliefs close even though I felt like I was no longer worthy to attend church. I prayed often, feeling stupid for asking for forgiveness for something I knew for a fact I would only do again and again. In my mind repenting meant that you “go and sin no more”, and it was false of me to ask to be forgiven when I would continue to sin regularly. To fix this I more or less bullied my ex-husband into marriage at 18 before we had even graduated, and that caused a slew of new problems. I was simultaneously in the majority and the minority with my religious upbringing, in this part of America so many are Christians who I am sure have faced similar struggles, but my “sect” of Christianity is small here in Clovis, New Mexico.

I also took courses in high school that permanently broadened my mind, i.e.: psychology and world religions. After this my thirst for knowledge of different cultures, religions and how the mind works has set me on the current path I am on. I, still, cannot seem to get enough knowledge about all things different from me as well as learning every more about myself. I enjoy taking IQ tests, interest inventories, quizzes, or reading about things I relate to. It is as if I am dying of thirst to learn and only knowledge can quench it.

In high school I also had my first taste of a yoga class, which I immediately fell in love with. Throughout college yoga has been another cultural passion of mine, of which I have seriously considered making a career path. I love the theology and the history behind yoga and I have become enchanted with India. All of the cultural exploration I have done in the past few years has overlapped, I take classes simultaneously that enhance and support one another so I learn all about the religion of an area while at the same time immersing myself in the history and culture in another class. This more or less sums up my undergraduate career.

Young adulthood for me has been learning to put all of my values into a cohesive whole. To somehow balance my love of all religions, and how I believe they each have merits and truths, and still profess Mormonism. How I can balance my huge feminist streak with my appreciation for gender roles. Contrast is my life, I have values on many “opposing” things, but I do not believe they have to clash.  I feel like I walk the middle road, and dabble one each side. This makes me feel like the minority because I feel too many people are far right or far left with no one finding the middle ground where I stand.

I feel like the minority in that I support so many different beliefs and lifestyles, but it may just be the part of the world where I currently reside.

I can see how each stage of my life was influenced by a different culture, my youth by Europe (especially Germany), my later childhood by Irish culture and people, my teens by American society and my rebelling actively and inactively against my church upbringing, young adulthood has been colored by world history and religion with a healthy dash of psychology. I enjoy learning how and why people think as they do, while maintaining my own idea of right and wrong. My opinion of the right way to do things is fairly broad, basically if it does no harm (mentally, physically, emotionally, etc) than it should not be a problem. If something hinders someone else’s life (such as takes away their rights, freedom or equality) I am against that. My hope is to fight for the underdog, to help people to realize their worth and power. I feel like the underprivileged deserve to be heard and helped.

Kindred Spirits

Do you ever see someone and instantly know you will hit it off? That this person and you have this amazing potential to become close friends? This has happened to me a few times, an instantaneous moment when I see someone new that I just have to meet. I find it a really neat thing when not only do I find this person I know I want to learn about but they also want to be my friend as well!

I have encountered these rare people a few times, and it is so odd how I know we will get along before I have actually spoke to them. People say not to judge a book by its cover, but I am remarkably good at it. I can usually tell if I will like you from my first impression of you, and even more than that, I can ussually tell if we could be great friends.

One regret I have is no knowing the appropriate way to bridge the gap and make the connection. I worry a lot about making a fool of myself or else construing the wrong message. How do you hide your borderline rabid excitement at meeting someone who is so like you? I have failed to master that as of yet, ha ha! I need to take a class on how to begin a friendship in this modern age so I won't embarrass myself.

On that subject, why isn't fervent pursuit of friendship desirable? I feel like it would be shunned and looked down upon to show my hand of how deeply I hope for a friend. Maybe it stems from how I see "fangirling" as being viewed. Being overtly immersed in something is seen as obsessive, and therefore my search for an equally devoted friend is a hard sell. It scares people off, or if would if they knew about it. I've become pretty good at hiding my admiration for my friends, until this post that is. Well let us hope you aren't going to run away now that the cat is out of the bag, ha ha!

Non-Bestfriend Zone

I have this track-record of having friends who I grow close to and would like to call them my "bestfriend" but there is this catch... they never seem to return the favor. I must have something about me that evermore places me in the "not bestfriend material" category. I do realize that the "ideal" friendship seen in movies where to women are super close, talk/test/see each other daily is not as prevalent as Hollywood would have you think. I still yearn deeply for it though, as I always have for as long as I can remember. From day one I have wanted someone who knows me, gets my humor, understands my moods, and has similar passions and want to put as much effort into the relationship as me. Silly, and probably never going to happen sadly.

Every time in the past 10 years that I get close to someone one of two things inevitably occurs: One, they either don't feel that way about me or they already have that one designated bestfriend or two, they move within 6 months of us getting close. I am not exaggerating, this happens EVERY SINGLE TIME. I am the "Good Luck Chuck" of my friend-group. If you want to get out of Dodge be friends with this lady! I do have amazing friends who have moved far away, and I adore them, but they aren't here, and we talk even less with the distance, as much as that makes me sad and I do try to stay in contact. I realize that this is our 20s, it is just what happens after high school and college. People grow up, get a better job and move away. But seriously, everyone?!

I also understand "you can have more than one bestfriend" and yes, you can, but that would be hard to put all that effort into so many baskets. I suppose if you juggle, taking a friend at a time and rotating them, it could be done. But I still am left out of the nametag, I don't get the title even when I put in an inordinate amount of effort. I am all give, and many times my friends are all take. It is disheartening and discouraging.

So here is an open invitation, please be my bestie! I'm in sore need of one.

Self-Esteem and Societal Norms

Why does it seem to be a "radical" idea to be at peace with yourself? To have good self-esteem and love who you are as a person, and not care what others think of you? It is the media, this society we live in that has spread the nonsense that we need things to like ourselves, or worse, that we are not good enough and should refrain from liking ourselves in the first place. I do not like that we are constantly bombarded with the notion that we are not, nor cannot be, whole on our own. I love who I am, I feel you are damn lucky to know me, and for that I open myself up to criticism on a large scale. Women are not allowed within society to take a complement, it is considered rude. At the same time we are expected to be a doormat and respond to men who catcall us*. Women are expected to be not bold and fearless, but timid and shy, acquiescing to others' desires and never speaking up for their own or else they are being a b-word.

Why is it threatening to some people to have a woman be strong? What is so scary about a female having all the abilities and strength (which are considered the domain of a man)? How is that a threat to anyone? On that point, why is equality in any form a threat?  How is my making the same amount of money as a male in a job that that I am equally as qualified for a bad thing? Do people fear women making money, because that makes us less dependent upon men? Surely that is not the case, surely that is an archaic idea!

Do you believe women are as smart as men? Do you like that you have the right to vote? Do you like not being legally your husband's property? Do you like owning your own property as a woman? Do you enjoy having any rights at all? Do you believe men should be allowed to cry and not feel as if they are "less manly"? Do you believe men should be allowed to pursue their dreams, no matter if they do not fit gender stereotypes? If you answered yes to any of those questions you ARE in fact a FEMINIST. #sorrynotsorry I really rebel against injustice and being told I am inferior to anyone. If that makes me combative at times, than it is for the greater good. I will not apologize for striving to make others' lives and my own better by pursuing equality.

On the topic of femininity, that does not have to clash with strength. You can be a bold strong person and rock a lot of polka dots, lace, ruffles and bows. Being a feminist means allowing women and men the choice to be whoever they want to be and not judging them for their choice. It means allowing men the room to cry and feel emotions, because they have them and it should be fine to express them. It is all about the options, the choices we have, or perceive we have. The saying "Don't be such a girl" is demeaning to women, and I hear women say it to their sons! How, as a woman, can you say that?! Do you not hear yourself? You are putting yourself down as you demean and dismiss your son's valid emotions.

The message is to be who you want to be, be the person who makes you happy regardless of what anyone else thinks or says as long as you are not harming others'. Be true, be you and help those less fortunate.

It amazes me how blind people can be when they do not want to see something. How so many people believe that the issues women (and men) face all the time are not a reality. Just because you've been fortunate and have not encountered the prejudices that others have does not mean that they do not happen. Just because you haven't been discriminated against due to your religion, gender, sexual preference, or the color of your skin doesn't mean others have been so blessed. It is like saying that there is no racism because you have not seen it or experienced it yourself. It is like you ignore that portion of the population that has been judged or treated unfairly because it does not apply directly to you. How will you feel when someone someday treats you like you are worthless because of some part of you you have no control over? How will you feel when your daughter is beaten up by her boyfriend and accepts it because you never told her she was worth something as a woman? Protecting our girls should be something we can do by building them up, letting them be who they are and supporting their self-esteem and standing up for women's rights. The time is now, what are you doing about it?







*A catcall is demeaning and is not a complement, it is a bogus show of dominance over a woman and it is frankly quite frightening.

Condensed Autobiography

I was born in Oregon to my biological mother, who I was told, gave me up for adoption to her mother, my biological maternal grandmother. I knew my biological mother, saw her from time to time, but I identified her as my older sister even though I knew she was my biological mother. I viewed her as “the cereal box that the prize came in” for me, as the prize. I was always treated as older, smarter and on-par with adults as a child. My mother would take me to fancy restaurants, to plays, to museums and other places that are typically not for young children. I feel it helped me behave better and learn social skills.

As a child we lived in Provo, Utah and I had a very charmed existence. My mom he let me have my way basically all the time, I was taken out of school just to spend the day with my mom. We had several foreign exchange students and one invited us to come visit her in Germany. We took a trip to Germany and while there we traveled all over Europe and were spoiled by our hosts. I was maybe 5 or 6 at the time, and I only remember fragments of it now. My mother spoiled me, I remember specifically my 5th birthday party I had a pony for my invitees to ride. I remember at 12 I got $100 to spend at Toys’R’Us.  During my childhood I wanted a sister badly and prayed often for one, and when I was 7 my biological mom had another daughter, who my biological grandmother adopted at birth.

The kids I went to school with were all from perfect nuclear families, not one was from a divorced family.  It was a surreal experience looking back, that no one but me was from a single parent household in my elementary class. I suppose a great part of the reason I was in that situation was because we lived in “Mormonville, USA”, and family is #1 priority among the Latter-Day Saint population. I was raised in the Mormon church, and it influenced a lot of the guilt and shame I felt as a teenager. I bloomed in Utah, I had many friends, I felt secure. I felt safe there, I would walk alone to my friends’ houses and to and from school. It was a bubble of safety and security there. One oddity was that I was absolutely boy crazy from birth, but in Utah and among Mormon culture, dating is exclusively for 16-year-olds and older. I felt shunned by the boys in my class early on, but looking back, it may have been that the boys and girls did not associate due to our ages in elementary school and typically children choose members of their own sex to associate with. Still, a classmate or two I recall as having friends of both genders, I was just not among that number. I was hopelessly awkward around boys and doomed to have a crush on any boy who gave me the time of day. Towards age 12 and on, boys and girls matured a little and a crush of mine was returned (finally in my eyes). I got a “boyfriend” in 6^th grade, which meant we talked and wrote notes to one another, but more than spending time together, we did not ever even touch.

As I matured and went to Middle School I made even more friends and felt even as if I were “popular”, not as in being part of the in-crowd, that was never my goal, but that I was friends with a very diverse population at school, I accepted everyone as a friend if they wanted or needed a friend I was that friend.

I was in “Drama Camp” the summer before 7^th grade, I took it with a friend from my elementary class. We had a lot of fun and I met several girls that I became friends with. In 7^th Grade I took several “artsy” classes including drama, art, chorale, guitar and I participated in every school play there was and a talent show (where a friend and I sang “Leaving on a Jet Plane” while I played guitar). I submersed myself in cultural and artistic things, just like I was raised to do apparently. My mother instilled in me a great love of the arts, performing and theatrics. 

My entire 7^th Grade experience was a pleasant one, and then we had to choose where to move. My mom gave me the choice, I got to pick where we lived from that point forward. The choices were to stay in Provo but find a new home, move to Illinois where my mother was from, or move to Clovis, NM where my biological uncle and his wife and kids lived. I do not remember how long I took to decide, but my cousins drew me here. I wanted them to grow up knowing me and my family so the summer before 8^th Grade we took a U-Haul truck and moved to Clovis without a backup plan and without a somewhere to live in place.

Upon arrival in Clovis, we stayed with my brother (biological uncle) and his family one night, and then I left to church camp. One nice thing about the LDS church is that it is everywhere. I went to camp, not knowing anyone, and feeling very much like a fish out of water. I had been popular, I could make friends easily before, but I had always had some other friend there too. I had no experience being alone and having to have no common experiences to share in order to make friends. I did not have a good time at camp, I felt different, and out of place to say the least. My church experience with those set of girls went much that same way ever after. I was always the outsider, they were always the close-knit click. My struggle to attend church before Clovis was nonexistent, but once here I did not want to go, even though I did for a long while.

At school I gravitated to the arts again, I took art and choir, but was not allowed to take drama because it was a class only for 9^th graders I was told. In choir I had a church friend, so I became friends by default with all of her friends.  Boys and girls associated even more here in Clovis than I had ever dealt with before this, it was new but I welcomed it. I was so in love with boys that the chance to talk to them was terrific fun! I had attempted to make male friends in Provo, and I chatted with several boys during my classes but I inevitably had feelings for every single one.

I had my second “boyfriend” in 8^th Grade for about a month (my first boyfriend and I broke up over the phone sometime previous, after at least a year of supposedly dating). My new guy was just like me, very academic, was in choir and full of yearning to love and be loved, we were kindred spirits. His family made him break up with me because of religious differences, and it broke my heart. It was the first time I had been judged for my religion in my entire life. He and I wanted at least to remain friends, but he went into homeschool after that year, and we did not stay in contact.

In 9^th Grade I met a new beau, in choir once again. My first boyfriend was also teased and socially inept, I became a sucker for the downtrodden. This boyfriend was the first “real” relationship, which involved holding hands and I even got my first kiss from him. We stayed together for 1 ½ years but my eye wandered when I moved up to high school and he was still in junior high. I broke it off with him even though he was pretty much the perfect standard of what girls dream of having in a suitor. I was young and naïve, I thought all men would treat me this well. Boy was I in for a shock!

I had a good high school experience, it was filled with me hitting my stride once again. I was better at making friends, I accepted everyone once more. I floated between stereotypes and groups within school, I did not fit any category and I had friends from a myriad of groups. I met my future ex-husband during my sophomore year, he was great friends with my best friend (who had stalked me all the summer before until we were inseparable). Of course, a love triangle ensued, as it had to in our situation. Our trio broke when my ex-husband chose me over my best friend. I was self-absorbed and I failed to notice her feelings, I failed to see how much it hurt that I was chosen. I simultaneously spent more and more time with my future ex-husband and drifted away from my best friend. I was blissfully unaware I was doing so, I was so wrapped up in the new relationship. I regret my selfishness immensely.

So my new guy was a wreck, the biggest project I have undertaken to date. He had a bad family situation where everyone blamed him for everything bad. He was very reactive as well, and I see that he brought on a lot of the criticism himself due to his lazy habits and his selfish behavior as well as being combative. I was blind, as one inevitably is when falling in love, and I ignored all his bad behavior and was staunchly on his side about everything. We were together a little over a year and a half when we more or less eloped. Well, we married in my mom’s living room with my family and our mutual best friend there, but none of his family was told nor invited. That was a mess, for sure. I made so many mistakes in regards to everything about him. I should have been solely friends with this poor broken soul, I should have supported from a distance, and not entangled myself in his wreck of a life. I should have not married him at 18 in the middle of our senior year of high school, let alone at all. I should have learned to be single, but I was not single more than a month at any point from age 12-20, and even after my divorce I did not stay single long, I jumped into a new relationship not 6 months after it imploded.

I married him as much because I loved him as because I held a great deal of guilt over having pre-marital sex with him. I cannot even begin to tell how much I cried, how I kept it a tainted secret from everyone I knew. I felt horrible and filthy. My religious background made me have incredible remorse and shame over this fact. I had the silly thought that marrying him would make me feel okay about the decision to sleep with him. I practically forced him into it just to alleviate my guilt. He was not good for me and tried to deter me from going to church and school (college). We were not happily married for long before I discovered his pornography addiction. I was young and naïve, I had had no idea that he harbored such a secret. I did not have experience handling conflict let alone something he saw as fine for the most part, and something I saw as 500% wrong and disgusting. I could not abide that he would have it in our home, and numerous times he or I would throw out his smut, but it did nothing. He always brought back more.

Perhaps my hatred of it drove a wedge between us, he may see it that way, but to me, it will be his disrespect for me and my feelings. I do believe he had a genuine addiction from the reactions we both experienced through our troubled marriage. He could not stop himself, and I had no way to help him. It was a sad situation but I would have died for him, and I dug my heels in and would not have let him go for anything in the world. He spent more and more time outside of the house, he did not have a cell phone and there were many days a week I had no idea where he was and he was unable to be located. He did no respect me or how I felt, he did not want to spend much time with me. I was torn up by how he played with my feelings, but he did not seem to care how I felt because it only served to make him feel guilty.

My ex-husband and I stayed married a year and nine months before he cheated and left me for her. Long story short his cheating was a deal-breaker, but I did toy with the notion of forgiving him because I loved him so immensely. I was firm about getting a divorce within 2-4 weeks and I filled for divorce on his birthday, and it was final in under a week. I threw myself deeply into church, and it filled the void. It made me feel whole and happy, but I was there, at least partially, for the wrong reasons. I wanted a new man, that has been my never-ceasing goal all my life. I do not feel it has anything to do with not having a father because I have never really felt I was missing one. I have always felt this void that could only be filled with a companion. I longed for a twin sister all of my life as well, I have ached for a consort always (starting with my deep hope for a sister), regardless of gender, though it seems I usually sought a male.

So I went to church fervently and found not one date, and I still enjoyed going nonetheless, but my hope was “someday” I would find a mate again. My current husband came along fairly quickly, and as much as I was definitively only looking for a friend a long last, he wanted a relationship. I acquiesced quickly, I am not great with willpower.

My husband and I had a blissful relationship for a year, and after that it had our share of super high highs and very dramatic lows. We had a surprise pregnancy after over a year and a half together. She brought us back together when we surely would have been at an end of our relationship. It was not planned, but she made the world of difference in our relationship. I definitely would not recommend having a baby to try to salvage a relationship, it only worked in our case because it was a good relationship that only failed because we gave up. We got engaged when she was 8 months old and married when she was 20 months old. It all happened backwards, it was at times a complete whirlwind and others it was dreadfully slow going. We are happy together, we laugh often, have two little daughters and it ended up working out, but it was a complete learning experience. If I had not been hurt like I had, I would not have appreciated what I have now. Not only that, but my clinginess in my past relationships would have worn out my present husband if I had not learned to rein them in.

I have learned to rein in the suffocating need to be needed to a great degree, but under it all, it is there still. I can also see that in my family we need to be accepted, we bend over backward for others to be liked. It strikes a hard blow to be rejected and we take it harshly.

My mom instilled in my sister and me that the world is a scary place full of dangerous and untruthful people. I feel that impact strongly, I do feel afraid of ever being on my own in public, that I am in constant danger, but at the same time I think it is the only truly rational way to think. To believe that you are safe, or feel like nothing bad can happen to you is naïve and irresponsible. My poor daughters have to deal with me telling them we cannot go to the park, the store, or any place that is not behind a locked door unless I have my mother and sister or my husband with us. I would always rather be prudent than reckless so we all suffer for it.

Battling Food Addiction

I think about food, at minimum, 4 times an hour. If there is a lull in my work, my conversations, or my mind wanders for a second I obsess about food. It is constantly on my mind, and it has only been since I began counting calories, and paying attention to what I eat and how much, that I realized it was a problem. 

I'm in a constant state of desiring food, even if I just ate and should be full. It took me about a month to know what actual hunger felt like. I was so used to just using the excuse that "life is too short to count calories", that I didn't know what feeling full was. I still don't ever feel satisfied, I always desire more because I love the taste. It takes so much effort to limit my intake and stick to it. I fail most days to stay under 1700 calories, but my new way of life diet still is drastically less than I was putting into my body. If I go over 200 calories, I'm still at least under 1000 less than I was eating daily before I started. 

So there it is, I was eating 3000 plus calories on average EACH DAY. I miss being allowed to eat all I wanted of whatever I wanted, but I know it is psychologically unhealthy, beyond being physically unhealthy. It has been 4-5 months and it was easier at first, of course, but I know it'll probably always be a constant battle, but I hope it someday isn't. 

Being addicted to food is terribly hard. It isn't like I can just quit eating cold turkey. I wish i could! I'm going to be brutally honest, I envy the thought of being able to have enough self control to just not eat, like anorexic. I lack that drive and determination and I have to struggle everyday to balance not feeling deprived (which is the biggest reason people fail on diets) and staying under 1700. I love food too much! 

I wish I could just stop eating when I'm full. It is so hard for me to recognize the feeling in the first place, let alone have the will power to stop if there is food left on my plate. I have a hatred for wasting food, and how wasteful America is, so I try to eat everything on my plate.   

Portions are so hard too! The food I want most typically has the most calories, and I'm not full (or don't feel satisfied) eating the correct portion. I try to use smaller plates and try to limit going back for seconds (and if I do, getting less than the fist go). 

I do know a lot, if not most, is psychological. I think while I'm eating, "is this enough to feel full? Am I full but only WANT more? If I stop eating now will I feel full enough to last with no snacking until dinner?" Etcetera. I don't have a healthy relationship with food, I am utterly obsessed. I wish I knew someone who had defeated their addiction to food! Also I wish to know someone who is predisposed to obesity but eats well and stays slim so I could learn healthy eating habits. A major problem is my picky eating (and, no, I can't simply just try new things. Not can I "snap out of it" if I wanted to). I have a very limited set of select items I can eat without involuntarily throwing up. Yes, it is that dramatic. I cannot eat certain foods without the reaction of gagging so hard I vomit. I've tried, and once again, it is psychological, but so be it. Apparently I'm in need if heavy duty therapy! Ha ha! 

The one positive is I don't emotionally eat, at least not to an unhealthy level. I like to celebrate with food, and occasionally cheer myself up with food, but I don't eat worse things than I normally would. It becomes a spending issue because in both those cases I want to go out to dinner, but I'm still careful about what I eat. 

I have, however, lost a total of 19 pounds now. It seems ludicrously slow going, but it is coming off. Only 70 more lbs to go! 

My First Tattoo

On December 29th 2014 my best friend and I got our first tattoos together. We were both extremely nervous but excited.  I got a beautifully stylized Deathly Hallows tattoo in cobalt blue (the Hallows symbol) and turquoise (the stylized swirls). 

I was nervous, the pain to a lesser extent, but primarily the tattoo itself. Would it be well done? Like to my high standards well done? Would I regret having a tattoo, regardless of the image? I know I love Harry Potter, always have, so I doubted the symbolism would ever be a mistake, but a tattoo is permanent. It is a huge commitment, probably the biggest (children don't stay with you forever even, and sometimes things happen even with your spouse, but a tattoo is in your skin forever). 

I mean, I had thought about it, and I did want it, but part of me thought about how I was partially getting it just to be a rebel, to have a talking point in my skin, and maybe that is the purpose of a tattoo. Maybe the meaning doesn't need to be weightier. And I wanted to commemorate my dear friendship with Rose. I haven't felt so happy with a friend or a friendship in years. I only have maybe 3 others who are on par with what she and I share, and even those 3 are very different friendships, of which only 1 still lives in my town! 

I've had past friends I was immensely close to as well, and also ones who I love dearly now but it isn't the same, you know? Soul mates kind of, versus someone you love but it isn't "easy". I hope that makes sense. Becky was a very close friend, I loved her like no other friend, but it wasn't easy, and we lost it. I really loved Emily too, but she and I apparently were not politically like minded enough for her, because it didn't bother me that we had differences of opinions. Kari was entirely my mistake, jealousy and hurt ruined it due to me feeling immensely close to her, and hurt that I wasn't invited to her wedding and a tiny but jealous she got her happy ending way before mine (she'd been dating him less than a year, and I'd been dating Mike 2-3 years and wasn't even engaged yet).

I honestly think of those three ladies often, but I don't think I'm brave enough to fix anything :'(

I have many many great friends, but to click with someone on the level I'm talking about is rare. To agree with so many of the same things, to look forward to seeing one another no matter how frequently you see each other and to be able to pick up where you left off after years is a rare and wondrous gift. 

So here we (Rose and I) are at Clovis Ink, at 5:00 on a Monday evening. We chatted about tattoos, how much we'd heard it hurt, and how cool tiny teacup tattoos on our pinkies would be (maybe later we'll get them together) so that as you are actually drinking out of a teacup and your pinkie is extended you show it off). 

We filled out our paperwork (liability releases), and got to talking about handwriting. I can't do cursive, whereas Rose likes her cursive best. 

I decided to go first, (which I guess was Rose's idea too. She is a self described "pull off the bandaid" type too) and I just hoped that I'd be brave! I tried to breathe (that was hard initially) and I kinda failed at first! I got dizzy and lightheaded like I do when I get my blood drawn and IVs put in. I think I lasted maybe 2-5 minutes until I needed a break. I put my head in my hands and asked for water. It didn't take too long to feel better once I drank some water, and I went for it again. At some point I ended up holding Rose's hand for moral support. I said colorful things like, "oh this is bothersome" and "this isn't the most pleasant thing ever", ha ha! I don't think I swore once somehow! 

I discovered my ability to distract myself and Rose by keeping the conversation flowing. I asked her about her siblings, her family, her first pet, her favorite book series, her first fandom (Anime, Yu-Gi-Oh and Naruto), etc. I also gave my answers as well, and it took up enough time to breeze through the remainder if my tattoo. It was annoying, but easily forgotten while we were talking. 

Once mine was finished we swapped seats and Rose got her crescent moon with swirling interior, and three tiny stars. 

 

Her placement was her left wrist on the interior side. It hurt quite a but judging by her reaction. I held her hand for support and she worried she was hurting me (she didn't at all). I tried to keep the conversation rolling. We talked to our tattooist Brian, asked him about how long he'd been tattooing (5 years), what got him into that profession, his art hanging on the walls, etc.

Anyway we also talked about Lost Girl, Lord of the Rings (plus how Mike and I had "remet"), movie marathons, actors, Guardians of the Galaxy, how we'd found fandoms, and all things geeky. It was a very fun conversation and it was enlightening, I think even with all the time we've spent talking (and talking and talking) in the past few months we still have barely scratched the surface of topics! We've spent at least a full 24+ hours talking about the world and we still haven't had a lull in conversation! 

After our tattoos were finished, we paid Brian and thanked him. Now we'll both have a permanent reminder of one another. This is one friendship that is destined to last. I think I chose the right friend to make such a permanent decision with <3

I feel so incredibly blessed to have found a great friend like Rose, and it is so bittersweet that she is leaving soon. I'm the "Good Luck Chuck" of my friends. If you want to move at some point, all you need to to get remotely close to me and within a year you'll be deployed, find a job offer you or your spouse can't refuse, or somehow you'll end up across the country (or in this case, across the world!). 

I intend to still keep in as much contact as possible with my busy schedule, and I know things work out how they are meant to. 

Disposable Friendships

In our society if it isn't easy, pleasing, perfect, and what you imagined it would be like, we at "taught" to remove it as soon as possible. This ideology is prevalent throughout every facet I can think of. Your car runs fine but doesn't have GPS built in? Ditch it. Your boyfriend made you mad? He must be a horrible person so get rid of him! Did your friend dare to have a differing opinion? What a total *witch*! 

This is the mentality of most people I come across, and what is worse is I still never see it coming. 

I have to admit, I am absolutely not like this. I believe in making the best of what I have, working through trouble spots in my relationships and agreeing to disagree without holding it against someone. 

I find myself constantly wishing for a like-minded friend, someone who will be there for me if I need someone. I would be there for any one of my friends in a heartbeat if they needed to talk, or to just have a good cry. I have had very, very few friends who have ever been there fire me in any capacity and it seems that they leave me shortly after my needs are met. I have so much to offer as a friend, I am loyal, I'll stick around, I will listen and I feel I have the life experience to help many people if they are going through the difficulties I have been through. Quite honestly I want to help people, I want to be a friend, I want to bend over backward for your benefit. 

I keep making friends who throw me aside when we have differences of opinions, or a miscommunication. In a marriage those aren't reasons to bail (for a rational adult) so how do "friends" rationalize this act of betrayal? Why not tell me what I do that upsets you so I can have the opportunities to fix it? Why is it so hard to agree to disagree and continue to support each other?

Lastly, a single mother will try to protect her children from heartache by not introducing a man until things are relatively stable so that her children don't get attached then break their hearts when they leave. So how come a mother will make friends with another mother, let their children bond and become friends and then tear their children away from these friends when they no longer are willing to put effort in the relationship with the other mom? Am I the only mother who thinks of this? I care about my kids having friends, and I'd at least try very hard to work at a relationship with another mom who my kinds were involved with her children.

Where did the notion of "it takes a village to raise a child" go? Why is there a marked sense of "everyone for him/herself"? Why can't there be a real support system of women who take care of one another and help with what they can? I haven't found this anywhere, and it is a real shame since I would love to have this comrodery with friends. 

I have great difficulty in finding friend, not even taking into account compatibility. I feel that I can be compatible with nearly any type of person, you merely need to overlook differences and work at meeting one another's needs. That isn't to say innately toxic relationships should be endured, but think before you rashly cast someone aside. Think of you children (if you have any), theirs (if they have any), and the friend in question. And before cutting ties, grow up and confront the issues before throwing in the towel or cutting off someone without even attempting to fix the problem. 

Minimum Wages are Poverty Wages

A family can't live on minimum wage at 40 hours a week. How do I know? Because I make more than minimum wage and we struggle. With only one adult working in the home it isn't possible to survive. And there are many single moms and dads out there. My family only makes $25,000, but someone making minimum wage makes $14,500 a year. We are currently on Food Stamps and WIC besides living in income-based public housing. If me making $12.37 isn't enough to make it working 40 hours per week, how is $7.55 going to do it?

Yes, if we had no car  (we pay less than $300 per month on a 2007 vehicle) or phones (we have data plans I am sure we *could* live without that cost $100 a month) we'd be able to afford food without government assistance. But still, we make more than those on minimum wage, and we still qualify for "assistance" which indicates we don't make enough money to support our family without help (by the way, they take into account your gross income before taxes to determine if you are eligible for government aid). 

We've never had to support ourselves and our children on $7.55 an hour, so I can't say for certain it is or isn't possible, but if we didn't have assistance we wouldn't have a car, a roof over our heads, food, or the money to buy toiletries. We don't have high speed internet, cable/Satelite (although we do have lowest-speed internet and Netflix), our girls have 90% free hand-me-downs, and we live In income-based public housing, etc. I think we live pretty simply but I can't fathom living on even a dollar less per hour and surviving, let alone thriving. We are incredibly blessed to have insurance through my job but that takes $500+ out of my monthly paycheck. 

I'm personally not complaining about how little we have, we definitely have just enough (but I'd like to not have to depend on Food Stamps and WIC), but I can't imagine how it is okay for a single parent to make so little and depend on government agencies. 

Poor people aren't necessarily poor because they are "lazy" or don't work hard enough. Wages need to be increased for the benefit of those who really need it. And you know what? Who cares if some people don't "deserve" it, it isn't my business to judge them and it isn't my problem how they choose to spend the wages they EARNED. 

My Breastfeeding Experience

Breastfeeding has been an incredible experience, both extraordinarily difficult and beautifully rewarding. To begin with, it was the hardest combination of things I have ever had to push through. I have had more difficult times with emotional struggles or physical strain but never both so much as breastfeeding was in the beginning. I cried so much, I fought for the “good latch” (even if her latch was perfect it still hurt a LOT in the beginning). Pain, emotions, tears and lack of sleep. 

Pretty much what you sign up for when you are a new parent, but this was overwhelming. It was why I quit breastfeeding Mairead early on. I couldn’t handle the pain, I didn’t know at the time why it hurt, and wasn’t patient enough to wait it out in hopes it would go away. I gave up pumping too with her because it took such a long time to get anything (I had a manual hand-pump that was for one side at a time). I couldn’t keep up with her needs with that dinky pump, and it took up literally all of my time.

With Eili I didn’t expect it to be easy, but I was determined. That was all it took. It was just as hard (but for some different reasons, as well as the pain and time-consumingness). Eili fed all the time (and my reaction to her was simply “if she cries, whip out a boob”. It worked. It hurt for a few weeks, and I persevered through it. Supply and demand is correct. You just have to really commit to it, actually basically sitting around for a few weeks (or months) feeding your baby non stop. At first I hated this. I hated having to never be able to set her down, to have to be truly constantly on call for her. I hated how no one else could feed her, how I was her basic resource for everything. Eventually I began to look at it like this: she will only be small for a little while, she will only need me like this temporarily, and every time she needs me gives me a break from life. Who doens’t need a break now of days? It is a blessing to breastfeed, even though you could also look at it as a burden. Now that we are almost 6 months into it, it is amazingly easier than bottle feeding ever was. I carry her food with me, I don’t have to make her a bottle in the middle of the night, and she is getting the very best nutrition. If you can breastfeed why wouldn’t you? I do not judge a woman who actually cannot breastfeed, but it honestly confuses me why you wouldn’t if you were able.

I judge myself very critically now that I look back at my giving up with Mairead. I was weak, but she was my first and I feel like you crumble much easier with the first child than subsequent children. My backbone is now iron compared to when I first had Mairead. Now you couldn’t hope to change my mind unless your research was bulletproof. It was damn hard to breastfeed Eili, but I am a dang Super Mom for doing it all. I work full-time, I am a mom all the time, I clean my house, I cook meals, and I breastfeed and/or pump while juggling all of this! If I can do it you sure as heck can!

The closeness and love I share with Eili is unlike anything I have ever had with anyone, and sadly that includes Mairead. I love them both, but the bond was instant with Eili and has grown exponentially deeper quicker than my love for Mairead grew. I am so disappointed in myself for ruining that potential with Mairead. It breaks my heart for mommas who choose to not breastfeed at all when they could. The bond is unexplainable and it is richer and more rewarding than anything I’ve found so far in life. It makes me personally a better mother and wife as well as citizen because my empathy has skyrocketed. 

I now don't know when I'll ever want to stop! I was so tempted to "get my body back" as in, not be needed constantly, at first. But now, I love it. I figure, if it is great for my baby then it would be selfish to stop (ever?) so.... when will I? I guess who knows, but eventually probably ;)