Vanity

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Sitting on the fancy bench next to her, I watch her pick up various creams and different colors, applying them so carefully to her skin, looking at her reflection in the mirror. I thought she looked fine without it, but she felt otherwise. I watch as she transforms herself into someone who looks very different from the way she started and it’s almost frightening. I can’t help but wonder why she puts so much effort into this process, she hardly ever speaks to my father, let alone looks at him. With the exception of meals, I cannot even remember the last time I saw them in the same room together and he doesn’t seem to notice or care about her finished product.

She sits at this little table every single morning, taking such care to apply everything just right and I’m not sure why because she never even leaves the house. She doesn’t work and she spends the majority of her day on the couch, in front of the television watching soap operas that seem like they upset her more than entertain her. It confuses me how she can become so engrossed in these make believe worlds while all around her, her own world is in chaos.

I wonder what she sees when she looks in her vanity mirror. I think she sees a magnificent woman, the most beautiful she has ever seen. She thinks she has attributes that are appealing to men and envied by women. I think she looks ridiculous and I wonder if I am destined to follow the same path of falling in love with a reflection that everyone else around me cannot stand to look at. I feel an honest fear and what I do not yet understand to be disgust.

When I become an adolescent I start to become her. I stand in front of my dresser mirror for hours, trying out different colors and techniques even though I have no idea what I’m doing with these products. I lay on the eyeshadow too heavily, the eyeliner is too thick. I smear on lipgloss and straighten my wavy hair. I could do this for hours and hours because I tell myself everyone else around me appreciates my efforts.

In my early adult years I stood in front of the mirror and wonder when was the last time that I even owned any makeup. I wonder how it is that even though my body and soul hurt so dreadfully that I have very few marks to show for them and the ones that I do have to show are always kept covered because he was always smart enough not to leave bruises where anyone else could see them. How would that look, the significant other of a pastor’s son, all bruised and banged up like an old piece of fruit? The thought is almost ridiculous enough to make me laugh out loud but my reflection stops me because while there is a bitter laugh stuck in my throat, there is nothing else but emptiness everywhere else inside. I recognize that others still find me beautiful, I’ve been told enough times of all my physical attributes that are pleasing to the eyes, especially men’s eyes,  but in this moment, I don’t see them. I see nothing but nothing. Nothing at all.

Now much later in my life I am finally able to look at myself in the mirror. I don’t feel the urge to avert my eyes, to brush my teeth with the lights off in the early morning hours. I no longer trace the lines of bruises and bumps because they are no longer there and haven’t been for quite some time now. I no longer detest what I see, I am no longer disgusted. I recognize my flaws but regard them as my own uniqueness, we all have something about ourselves we dislike. I look at myself in the mirror and realize that I love myself for who I am, but not like my mother loves herself. I love what I have been blessed with, inside and out and realize that it all could be taken in the blink of an eye.

Untamable

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Sitting in the warm sand, hugging my knees close to my chest, I watch the waves crashing onto the shore. The breeze is much stronger this time of night and it makes the water choppy, almost violent, but it’s beautiful. Tiny fish jump and leap, disappearing once again below the surface and I am envious. Who knows where they came from? Who knows where they live? I cannot see the opposite shore and I know these fish have such an immense amount of vastness to explore. An entirely separate world to call their own.

The sun shimmers off the surface of the water, the waves crash against the jetties, foaming and frothing, never stilling, not even for a moment. There’s nothing calm about these waves. They are wild and free and I long to be consumed by them in a way I cannot explain. There is freedom in those waves, a freedom I am always seeking.

Seagulls dip low, barely skimming the top of the water, coming up with their catches. Their call is beautiful as they soar through the fiery skies. I imagine them flying back to their nests, on the highest branches of the tallest trees, to feed their young before gliding back through the clouds. I spread my arms and feel the wind tickle my bare skin and wonder what it must feel like to fly. I want to fly.

A couple of hermit crabs carried in by the tide nestle into the wet sand and I watch for a moment as wave after wave flows over them. I wonder if they will come out of their shells to retreat back into their watery home and I worry that they will become stuck. Standing, not bothering to wipe the sand off my skin, I walk carefully over to them and pluck them up. Walking barefoot to the water’s edge, I put them down and watch the waves carry them away. I stand for a moment as they are carried further and further out by the almost violent, yet absolutely beautiful water, sinking slowly with each wave that washes over them and I feel a familiar longing and wonder when and if it will ever be satisfied.

 

 

 

Thunderstorm

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Lying in bed with the blankets over my head, my hands pressed over my ears and it does no good because the booming of the thunder vibrates straight through to my bones. The room lights up as the lightning crashes and I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can. I hate it when the weather is like this, bad things happen when the thunder sounds and no one can hear you scream. But this isn’t then, and there’s nothing out there. That’s what I tell myself anyways.

I hum quietly to myself and with my hands still pressed tightly against my ears all I hear is the tune I’m using as a distraction. I don’t even know what I’m humming and it doesn’t really matter so long as I have something else to listen to. Outside the lightning sets the sky ablaze and I can see the flash behind my closed eyelids, underneath my blanket. I could just go hide in the closet but I’m an adult and the children are sound asleep. If they can sleep through this then I can endure it while I’m awake.

He lays in bed next to me and tries to comfort me, wrapping his arms around me and running his fingers through my hair but I cannot help the tears that start to well up. I should be able to handle this, it’s just an act of nature. Thunder and lightning can’t hurt me and those bad things that happened in the past are just that- in the past.

Thunder cracks through the sky, a bolt of lightning hits seemingly right outside the window, closer than comfortable for me and the power goes out. By this time I am shaking in terror because bad things happen in the dark. Terrifyingly, horrible, life-altering things. Things that leave mental, emotional and physical scars and no one can hear you scream over the thunder. I try to steady my breathing and count down from a million while all around me the storm rages on.

Weekend Coffee Share 04/23/17

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Welcome back to Write On for another weekly Coffee post! I’m so glad you’ve decided to stop by! Today has been a really nice day, surprisingly. Usually Sunday’s are my most dreaded day of the week, it means the end of my lounging and back to the hectic schedule. I did try to take this weekend easier than I usually do though, which still consisted of me doing several loads of laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, meal preparation, not to mention trying to supervise unruly (and quite hyper) children and puppy. All in all, it’s been a lovely weekend though!

If we were having coffee I would tell you that today I discovered a truly lovely travel blog that I am enjoying very much! This surprises me because I’ve never been too interested in travel blogs, not to say that I don’t enjoy traveling, although I’ve only been to a few states and out of the country twice. The blog is called Travelling the World Solo.

Talk about instilling wanderlust in a person! Since I started reading this blog early this morning, I’ve been dreaming of all the places I would love to visit if I had the opportunity to. Australia, Japan, and the U.K. would definitely be on this list! There was a country that the blogger had visited and said that she thought it was unfairly judged (I think it was a Middle Eastern country, although I’m not entirely sure) and I thought that was very compassionate of her. I also think it’s very brave of her to go so far from her home, I’m a big pansy when it comes to traveling outside of my comfort zone. Needless to say, I’m hooked on this blog. If you love travel blogs, you should definitely check it out. Heck, even if you don’t love travel blogs you should check it out. This is the first travel blog I’ve ever read and I absolutely adore it!

If we were having coffee I would tell you that aside from the A to Z Challenge and my Weekend Coffee posts, I haven’t done much more writing but I’m hoping that the A to Z Challenge will keep me inspired long after it’s over. I’m proud of myself that I’ve made it this far without giving up and I’m also proud of myself for thinking ahead and deciding what I’m going to write about for the letter X, which is the letter that got me hung up last year and was the deciding factor of me throwing in the towel. I think I’ve since deleted all of last years A to Z posts. They were just awful, truly awful in my opinion. I think one of the things that made the challenge so hard for me was trying to stick to a theme. This year I’ve pretty much been writing about whatever is on my mind and it’s been much eaiser.

If we were having coffee I would thank you for stopping by, but I really haven’t done much else other than wonder how in the world my two daughters (who are nine and six) can make such a horrendous mess in such a short period of time. I swear I’ve cleaned the living room twice this weekend already and both times the girls have destroyed it less than ten minutes after I was finished. It’s beyond frustrating. Now I must jump in the shower and head off to bed although honestly I’ll probably stay awake and read more of Travelling the World Solo. I hope you had a lovely weekend and I’ll stop by sometime this week to catch up with everyone’s posts. Have a lovely upcoming week!

Sinful

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His love makes me believe that I can do anything. I could reach out and pluck a feathery cloud from the sky, if I wanted to. I could exhale a whispery breath and extinguish the sun. It makes me want to give him the stars, even though they aren’t mine to give. I could crumble mountains and cross oceans, without ever moving.

His love makes me invincible.

His love makes me feel beautiful, like there was no one before me and will never be one after me. Not just an accepting type of beauty, but like I’ve exceeded the standards that I’ve always held myself at.  His love makes me feel confident that what is inside of me is far more stunning than anything anyone has to offer on the outside.

His love makes me radiate.

His kisses are like a gifted box full of chocolates when I’ve only just given them up for Lent.

I crave them.

His love is like committing arson,

when I knew there was a drought,

leaving me burning with the desire to be quenched

with more fire.

I find myself doing everything with him I always swore I would not do.

I let walls down that I’ll never have the time, nor the strength, to rebuild.

With him, I am vulnerable.

And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Meet and Greet: 4/22/17

Meet and Greet Weekend is finally here! Come and discover some wonderful blogs!

Dream Big, Dream Often

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It’s the Meet and Greet weekend everyone!!  Strap on your party shoes and join the fun!  

Ok so here are the rules:

  1. Leave a link to your page or post in the comments of this post.
  2. Reblog this post.  It helps you, it helps me, it helps everyone!
  3. Edit your reblog post and add tags.
  4. Feel free to leave your link multiple times!  It is okay to update your link for more exposure every day if you want.  It is up to you!

  5. Share this post on social media.  Many of my non-blogger friends love that I put the Meet n Greet on Facebook and Twitter because they find new blogs to follow.

See ya on Monday!!

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Replay

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Lying in bed, thinking I must be tossing and turning but knowing I am probably paralyzed from fear, behind my closed lids I know what is about to happen next. Sometimes the faces are different but the heartache is not and something in my mind screams at me to wake up. I repeat his name over and over hoping that one of these times I will somehow let the word slip through my lips in my sleep, that I will say it loudly enough to wake him so that he might wake me but it never happens. Once again, there’s his face, smirking and uncaring, his eyes as cold as a fresh snow and my heart starts to clench, I know it’s about to shatter into a thousand pieces because I’ve had this nightmare before, too many times before. I want to wake up. Heart pounding, broken out in a cold sweat, it feels like something is squeezing the breath out of me, I know what happens next and I cannot relive it. It’s been so long since the last time, I thought my mind had forgotten, had let this nightmare go. Yet here he is, his eyes so accusing and hateful yet uncaring at the same time and he says the words I fear to hear from him and I cannot wake myself, just like every other time I’ve had this dream. I cannot wake myself and I must let the nightmare run it’s course. And after it’s over and my pillow is soaked with tears, this puppy climbs on my chest and licks the tears from my face and I remember that I am loved. She stays there on my chest throughout the rest of the night, watchful, and I tell myself this nightmarish pattern has been broken because I didn’t have her before, she wasn’t there before to remind me of the the truth.