THIS IS ME

This post has been inspired by Leonie Dawson whose about page says “What is a Leonie?”  I love it.  Thank you Leonie.

It is also inspired by the countless people in this world who are made to feel “less than” simply because they don’t fit some ridiculous non-existent mould.  This is for those people in the world who have been bullied by others who would have you believe that your point of view, your mind, your creativity, your way of life, is wrong or bad or not good enough.  Do not believe them.

Know this:  No matter how anyone treats you, no matter how much you doubt this, you are an amazing human being.  Your soul is a beautiful light,  with every right to inhabit this wonderful planet of ours.  We may be considered weird, different, not in keeping with the ever growing bland and beige rhetoric of nothingness that floats around these days, but we make a difference.  In our own small way, we are making a difference.  This is for you, my friends.

THIS IS ME:

I am woman

I am a feminist.

I abhor social injustice of any kind.  This makes it hard to live in Australia right now.

I try to be kind whenever I can.  I reflect on my actions when I know that I have been unkind and I try to apologise if I can.  It hurts when someone doesn’t want to hear it.

I love colour,  I am not an artist.

I am a writer.  I think in story lines.  Literally every experience is translated in my brain into how I can make a story out of it.  This is exhilarating and exhausting at the same time.

I am creative.

I believe in our individual stories.  I believe they matter and contribute to the fabric that is humanity.  I want to preserve those stories for future generations.

I feel deeply.  Very deeply.  Because of this, the cuts to my soul take time to heal.  Sometimes a long time.  This is why I am not a “glass half full person”.  This is not a bad thing.

I love deeply.  My family especially.  There is not a single thing I wouldn’t do for them. Well, murder, I wouldn’t murder for them.

I forgive easily.

I am a wannabe hippie.

I am an agnostic/humanist/sometimes atheist who desperately wants to be wrong.  I find spirituality in the Universe sometimes.

I am a loyal partner.  I have had two boyfriends, both of whom I married.  Had one not died, I may very well still be married to him.

I am not in love with my body.  It is wobbly all over.  This is a problem for me.

I really don’t like exercise.

I am exceedingly sensitive.  In woo woo circles, I would be considered an Empath.  I feel your pain, happiness and sadness deep in the chambers of my heart.  Literally, I get a physical ache for you.  I am also hypersensitive to how you feel about me.  This is both a gift and a curse.

I am bald.   I choose to be this way because I lost 70% of my hair and keeping the remaining 30% really wasn’t doing much for my self esteem.  I now wear a wig, more for the public than myself.  At home, I mostly wear a beanie.  Because I live in Melbourne, and it’s cold.

I am totally and utterly in love with my husband.  20 years after we got together, my heart still misses a beat when he walks into a room and I feel a stirring in my loins.

I am an introvert.  This came as quite a shock when I found out.

I am a recovering alcoholic.  Which is why I thought I was an extrovert – that was the alcohol talking.

I am intelligent.  I hate saying that because it makes me sound arrogant.  But it is true.  A fair few people have told me that they feel intimidated by my intelligence.  I have never understood why.

I lack a sense of self identity.  Ironically, my journey to my sense of self only truly began when I became sober.  Most people find it in their teens.  Alcohol robs you of that process.  That’s okay.  I have time.

I am afraid of failure.  Often this leads to aching inaction.  I’m working on that.

I have four friends whom I know I could call on at any time and they would be there for me no matter what and for whom I would do anything.

Death has defined me.  I lost my husband when I was 25 and my mother when I was 42.  These are massive events.  How can they not define me?  Grief still affects me.  I make no excuses for that.

I desperately want to make a difference, but I’m not sure what that means.

I am extremely complicated.  My husband gave up years ago trying to figure me out.  My kids roll their eyes at me a lot.  I just laugh and remind them they have a crazy woman for a wife and mother.

I am a non-conformist and anti – establishment.  I am also afraid of going to jail which is why I adore those suffragettes.

I utterly believe in your right to believe and do whatever you like as long as it doesn’t hurt another human being.  And yes, I expect the same from you.

I am anti-Capitalism in its current form.  Unless you are doing good with your money and have humanity at heart, it is greedy.  Sweatshops are a case in point.  As are massive cattle farms in Venezuela.

I am learning to love all that I am.  I am learning that the scars that adorn my mind, body and soul are signs of growth, of compassion, of a life lived.

I am me.

 

I really hope that you do something like this.  Make a list of all that you are.  You are you.  Beautiful just as you are.  Your experiences, your life, shaped you and brought you to the person you are today and it is incredible.  No one has the right to judge you until they have walked in your shoes.  There is no perfection, only growth, if we are lucky.  

 

Much love to you.