Prologue

Before I found Blogger, I had started on Tumblr. Then I forgot my password, gave up, and never thought about it again.
Until today, when I stumbled on it again. I figured out which password I had used, read the entries I had made (all 3 of them), and decided to share them with you.
So here is the link:



I shared this on another blog I write, but it has so much more meaning here - hindsight and all that.
When I ran across this today it brought tears to my eyes. So much has happened since then. I wish I had known what I was looking at, at the time.
I'm so grateful it didn't go worse that it did.

Update: Having issues getting the link to work, but here's the url to copy.
http://phoebigail.tumblr.com/

Missing her

The girl is going to be gone for another week and a half.
I can't help but worry. I'm happy for her that she is visiting the East Coast friends and family, but I want her home. I'm ready to knuckle down and get some academics going for the new year.

Who am I kidding? I miss the kid. It's that simple.

Holidays

My girl is on a plane early in the morning to spend Christmas with her dad. 

I'm glad she's getting to go, but I'll be happier when she gets back. 

I worry about what could happen when she's gone, even though I know she's much stronger than she was, and she knows she can call me at any time if there's an issue. 

I still hate when she's gone. 

At 15, she is still my light in the darkness of the world. 

Perception

It's funny, really, to think about how perceptions change over time.

Today I told an online friend that he's amazing, and his response was how much of a compliment it was coming from someone of my character. 

It made me laugh at first, and then think about what that really means.

My "character" has not always gotten that reaction. 

As a younger woman, I advocated the idea that a woman can do what she chooses with her body. I did whatever I wanted, with whomever I wanted, with no regrets about it.

One guy described me as fierce, and a woman I was with called me a force of nature.  I saw myself as a sexual creature, and that came across loud and clear to the rest of the world.

Consequently, like any woman who is free, I was called slut, whore, skank, and various other creative things that primarily denote immoral and unacceptable behavior. 

I didn't care. I am the only one who owns me.  

I realize now that it was about control - of my life, and of my body. 

I can't remember the names if every partner I've had. 

When people comment on my character I always want to say "if only you knew how I spent my 20s".

Personal value

I received a comment today that struck a cord. The commenter said that she wishes she grew up with a "woman as beautiful and bountiful member of the world" point of view, and thanked me for helping her feel that about herself now.

As a young girl, I remember feeling betrayed by my body over and over again. It began with growing breasts at the age of 9. Then came hips. As a girl completely obsessed with the world of classical ballet, it didn't get worse than that. Until it did. Suddenly I was taller than the other girls. There went my dreams of dancing professionally. With every change toward maturity, I hated my "womanly" body more and more.

In my early 20's I made friends with my curves. They attracted attention, and made me desirable. I still mourned my lost dream, but I felt that I could live with this body.

Then I had a baby. And gained 100 pounds. And cried daily for two years about my lost body. My marriage crumbled for a variety of reasons. I hid.

Then something weird happened. I started feeling beautiful. Not sexy, something more visceral than that. Interesting, intelligent, funny. 

And I liked this new woman. Until I didn't. 

A series of bizarre, disfunctional relationships paralyzed this version of me. I lost confidence. I hated the person I saw in the mirror. I hated the woman raising my daughter.

So I changed her. Not her appearance. The way she looked at the world. The way she modeled being a woman. I started working to become, not just a woman I wanted around my child, but the type of person I hoped she would grow to be. Strong, self-confident, independent, with a positive outlook.  

Everyday I have the opportunity to choose - will I be the woman who hates herself, or the woman with a sense of self-worth? 

Most days I choose the second option. Because I want my daughters to choose that option. I want my friends and family to choose it. I want you to choose it.

You are valuable. You are a beautiful and bountiful member of the world. 

I hope you feel that, every day.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving friends!

You are one of the things I'm thankful for today. Yes, I'm talking to you. 

Thank you for your support, and for being a part of my life!

Not alone

I've just started taking the NAMI Beginner Basics class. NAMI  is the National Alliance for Mental Illness, and the class is for parents and caregivers of children with mental illness.

I've discovered that, in the realm of parenting a child with mental illness. I have it pretty easy.

Not that we don't have day-to-day struggles. We certainly do. The stories I've heard from other parents, though, certainly are eye-opening.

I think this class is going to be really good for me.