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Edit Your Story and Persist with Faith Like Cinderella

The story that is our life, up to a certain point, is written and told by others. We do not choose our parents or where we are born or the social status we are born into. Nor do we have control over who keeps us alive and what they teach us as littles. Our lives are a given in many ways and at least we can be grateful for our chance to exist. But then the story becomes ours to tell. 

Cinderella was loved and wanted when she was born. But bad things can happen to nice people. And the reverse is also true. We can be born into chaos and find a way to rise from the ashes. In my own personal experience, holding tightly to the resentment of my unlucky creation and existence doesn’t serve me. It keeps me routed to where I was and not able to move forward.Endure and Persist Like Cinderella on Shalavee.com

I would also say that a little adversity creates personal character. Cinderella is interesting because she somehow holds that love she had as a child and endures the cruelty with a faith for her future. We would expect her to want revenge for the ill-doings of the step-people but instead her inner-beauty is what gives her a chance to rise. Were she to hate them, she’d just be slumming with the haters instead of rising above as she does.

There aren’t any fairy godmothers per se, but I believe we can create our own hope and magic. And it starts with the basic understanding that we are all worthy of the effort and the hope. The only way I’ve moved on from my darkness is to maintain a blind faith that I was worth the work it has taken to get here. As if I was my daughter, an odd but profound thought.Endure and Persist Like Cinderella on Shalavee.com

As parents, and as women, we are teachers by example. Knowing that what I do is so much more powerful than what I say, I rise with as much power as I can to my life and the occasions I am creating to grow. Because deep down, even with devastating self-doubt and low self-esteem I suffered from, I still believed that this life was worth working on. And it is within my power to change my perceptions and choices and shift my life in directions of empowerment instead of self-destruction.

As women, I don’t think we will make any progress shifting our power back to ourselves until we acknowledge that we are much more than our circumstances and that our worth is a given worth fighting for. The rest of the process is figuring out how we rise as individuals to add our wealth of selves to the collective. What do we each need to learn about compassion and courage to continue our journeys to become who we authentically are? That is our real goal and the path that lights us on fire to our destinies.

If you enjoyed what you read, please subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Belief

( Enjoy this post From 2015)   Belief is the word of the week, of the season. Wrapping up the year, this concept means the most to me now. And so I will start and end on what the word belief has meant to me recently in hopes that I can both make sense and find closure in the way I see things to be now.

I believe in the wonder and joy of the spirit of Christmas. That the generosity and kindness of man and womankind can rise us above our basic tendencies of smallness to bring about great moments of small humanity. That is what Christmas is to me. But to a child, the season is Santa. And the wonder and miraculousness of his visits is a gift every child should be able to enjoy until it’s time to move upwards. Eamon and Santa from 2007 on Shalavee.com

I had the tragic privilege of robbing my eldest of his belief in this magic a couple of weeks ago. He kept asking me and asking me, was Santa real? And finally, when he said he was going to make an addendum to his Santa list when I’d already shopped, I told him…

He cried the biggest crocodile tears for the longest time. And as I watched the big beautiful bubble of belief disappear after several outbursts of tears and “no no nos”, I doubted my decision to have done this but alas, I could never take it back, could I ? He declared he’d prove me wrong. I certainly hope he does. And then I told him to talk to his Dad about the tooth fairy.Fiona on the green on Shalavee.com

We believe what suits us don’t we? If our beliefs perpetuate a certain end or means to that end we can’t comprehend being without, we’re tethered then to our beliefs. We’re invested. We’re living in our belief suit. Until someone rips it off of us.

I found my esteem feeling quite naked after a recent incident robbed me of my self-belief. I was left wondering if I was in fact a talented designer. If I was worthy of the accolades I’ve ever received. If the inkling I keep having that maybe I don’t suck was true. Comes down to what I really believe is the truth.  love yourself on Shalavee.com

I believe that I have a light that shines brightly. That that light is different. And that it’s meant to keep shining so that others can benefit from the hope that it brings. Because when they’re ready, anyone can join with me in the belief that their creativity and voice can make a difference. I believe my belief affects other people’s beliefs. And that is nonnegotiable.

I make happen what I believe possible. So that is what I am going to focus on. Shifting my possibilities to believabilities. And relying a little less on what I think might be the awful truth and more on what I know to be true. I’ve got talent in spades. I just need to figure out where I’ll be appreciated and believed in and mirrored back safely. Christmas tree on Shalavee.com

Merry Christmas to you all. May the magic of Christmas renew your belief in yourself and in humanity. I’m taking a holiday hiatus and will return in a week. Love to each and every one of you my dear dear readers.

If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

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Feeling Your Pain Versus Being Your Pain

Since being a mother, I’ve had many “growth opportunities” to rethink how I express how I’m feeling about myself or my children. These are called AFGOs (another fabulous growth opportunity). Today, instead of yelling at and being impatient with my daughter for crying again for the umpteenth time about her pain which I perceived as nothing , I chose compassion instead.

Honestly, I tend to shut her down sometimes in expressing her feelings because I’m not allowed to. I am often blindly uncompassionate for myself. And her pity parties are so exhausting but she’s four and that’s what it is.Feeling Your Pain Versus Being Your Pain on Shalavee.com

When Fiona takes it to the next annoying level where she seems to draw her real identity from her “boo-boo”, it’s worse. She’ll milk injuries for drama-filled days and it’s truly annoying. Baths are miserable as even the thought of getting the boo-boo wet will throw her into shrieking fits of anticipated pain. My bathing duties are just too hard then.

So the other day, when I saw we were headed into a series of fits and drama over a perceived boo-boo, and that my usual tactics of “knock it off or else” were again not going to work, I shifted. I asked her if she thought her boo-boo made her more special and she said “Yes”. And then I slyly refuted that theory by explaining that her boo-boo wasn’t as exciting as how good she could write her name and set the table and make up cool songs. Feeling Your Pain Versus Being Your Pain on Shalavee.com

And I probably went on to say how all the people who loved her knew she had these marvelous talents too. And you wanna know how quickly that boo-boo didn’t hurt anymore? I shifted from fearing she might be someone who’d cut herself just to prove she was alive to gladly seeing her back as a normal little 4-year-old whose boo-boo suddenly wasn’t so bad after all. I just had to out think myself.

It seems a cautionary tale too about how we can be so used to an injury or a mental trauma from our childhood, that it becomes who we are. I recently outed myself for this very scenario using the past as an excuse to keep me from fulfilling my potential. If we over-identify with our pain, we become the pain. And I’d like to be a person who’s mending from my injuries, not someone who’s stuck a victim state for which nothing will ever make it better.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest  too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

That I Matter is a Matter of Fact

Such a search my life has been to find my form in the reflections I catch. I was invisible for so many years. And it occurred to me that we matter to our people as children and that makes us matter to ourselves. That our existence is a given and necessary to our family worlds as children to expand our confidence of purpose into the larger world. Except when that doesn’t happen.

I struggled to pretend I mattered for a very long time. I had purpose in the survival of the struggle but I did not consider my existence important to the world. I drowned in my fears and sorrows and probably didn’t have much to give anyway. My worthlessness was what I understood of my existence. The void where I should have mattered was very very raw. My mirror image was missing.

But then I had children. And realized that my attention to them was how they know they matter. And I recognized that my invisibility could only serve to teach to them the same and so I’ve struggled to be someone they see themselves in and not a shadow. I stand up to their demands and prioritize myself so that they may see what mattering means. I stay in the moment even when I’d rather be somewhere else. Because I need them to know they matter.

That I Matter is a Matter of Fact on Shalavee.com

Had these lyrics in my head from the General Public song, A Matter of Fact from the All The Rage album released in 1984 (I was 18) .

As a Matter of Fact by General Public

Someone’s been lying in my bed
Roses to start with
But now nothing in the garden grows
It’s all the same yes
But it’s not the person I know
No no no
Roses to start with
But as a matter of fact
It’s no more than an act

What’s the matter
What’s the matter
As a matter of fact?
Matter of fact
Hopping mad it’s as simple as that

What’s the matter
What’s the matter
As a matter of fact?
Matter of fact?

It’s a matter of order
It’s a matter of class
First to get told
Are the last to get asked
Just mind your ass
When the buck gets passed
Mind over matter
As a matter of fact
It’s a matter of class
As a matter of fact
The cards are stacked

 

 

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest  too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Letting Go of the People I Thought I Might Have Been

Why do I have this box of stuff in the attic?”, I wonder. This questionable box has been there so long that it’s developed the dreaded force field. The box, because of its longevity in this spot, has now become a given and almost invisible. Except when I ask, “Why do I have this box of stuff in the attic?”.

I realized the answer is quite simple. This box of stuff reflects who I was at one point. This stuff reflected what I was creating or what I found important at that moment. And it’s as if I have been frozen in time at that one moment. It’s an archaeological excavation into my past. But it’s also a cinder block on my path. Because all these accumulated boxes in my attic, closets, basement, and garage, all amount to a huge pile of stuff that no longer reflects the true me today.

The trick is…I must think about what I am now. And that seems like more effort than it’s worth.

Or is It?

Letting go of the people I thought I might have been on Shalavee.com

How do I know who I think I am unless I take the time to tell myself? How do I know what my goals are or what makes me happy if I don’t take a moment to stop and consider my feelings and thoughts on any of these subjects? And especially, who do I think I am?

It occurs to me that what seems like a lot of work, talking and writing and figuring out who you are and what you’re interested in doing, is exactly the work that will make everything else easier to do. Decide once and then all other questions are answered.

Letting go of the people I thought I might have been on Shalavee.com

Trick is trusting yourself with the decision of who you are and what you want. If you are used to being told what to do all you were used to being told what to do all your life or are on autopilot, it takes a tremendous effort to reconsider who you do and don’t want to be from now on.

But there’s no other way to go ahead. So I am pulling my sleeves up and deciding who I don’t want to be any more, as well as who I do. Ditching the once conceived notions of myself that no longer fit me. And looking to be inspired to stepping into the shoes of the person I’m excited to be and see what happens next.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest  too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

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