People watched my blood pressure, how much I ate, how much I peed. I couldn’t take Tylenol without getting it prescribed to me. I went into labor when I was 26 weeks into my pregnancy. What is the toughest part of parenting? Something you weren’t ready for. If he needs to cry, I make sure he knows that it is needed. Of course you want him to be strong and tough, but when he is hurting and having a tough moment I don’t want him to feel ashamed of not being the toughest, strongest, or the best. You put more value on being strong, and tough, rather than how they look. We don’t shame him into thinking anything is out of the ordinary when it comes to bodies. As far as we can with a one year old we try to be body positive. Honestly, we are all doing the best we can with what we have. You have a lovely little boy. What things about societies treatment of others, especially boys, concern you about raising him? There was a boy and he told me if I wanted to loose ten pounds fast I could cut off my head.
I was the first to get big boobs and thighs and those are the things that lead to cruelty with each other.Ĭan you recall any specific moment in childhood that hurt you the most? I went to a private school with a lot of teeny tiny people. I had a hard time with my body when I was younger. Growing up, how did school impact your experience with your body? It was my own pressure. I want to get healthy again but I am in no rush. I am in awe of that.ĭo you feel pressure to get back to your pre-baby body? I’ve pushed a child out of my body, my husband is in awe of that. The hard work of a long relationship makes it easier. While in bedroom, what are you most self-conscious about? The way it looked, the way my bra clicked. When did you start to notice your back was changing?Īfter I had my son. It doesn’t have the strength to do what it used to. Unfortunately, it is now the part that derails the fastest. It used to be the most athletic part of me. What about being naked in front of others makes you nervous?Īnytime you try something new, it’s scary. I think the last time I was naked in this way was when I had my son. I find more worth in who I am and what I do rather than what people see. The sum of the parts, rather than the vessel. How would you rate your self-esteem from one to ten? And this seemed like the perfect thing to do!
WOKE UP LIKE THIS 2017 SKIN
I was thinking back to when I was most comfortable in my skin and trying to figure out what reason was behind that. I’m turning thirty this month and it just…I used to be so comfortable in my skin. Tell me why you wanted to participate in this project?Ī lot of things. She is a sharp witted tell it like it is type of woman who helped me make sense of who I was when I was at a loss and mostly alone.
Virtually, since she lives thousands of miles away from me. This session was with someone who held my hand through it all. It might just help you find yourself too. Please keep following this blog if you’re lost. And I am so, so excited to help others with my story. To grasp the reality of how I came to be who I am. I’ve traveled far and wide to grasp this. As I admit to myself that I am so, so incredibly lucky to be alive right now.
Tears are streaming down my face as I write this. Energy my mind could not muster amongst coping with the drastic changes to my identity.Īll I can say for right now, in this one post, is that I finally believe I am as strong as others tell me I am. Hence the long, long break from creating art. It was up to me, alone, to repair my soul from scratch. No amount of attention, traveling, marijuana, therapy, or fake love would heal the damage these things caused to me. All of which destroyed the already rusted pillars holding me up as a person. I escaped a toxic living situation from which my oldest, closest friends put their wants above my needs. I was triangulated, used, and disposed of by two very disturbed people who took advantage of my resulting vulnerability and loneliness. I was misdiagnosed with Bipolar 2 and medicated incorrectly as a result. I developed precancerous cells at my cervix after recalling the rape that put them there three years prior. To preserve what small traces of my identity I had left in the wake of a tidal wave of pain smashing into my center hull. One year of hibernation from everything and everyone. It has been one year since my last session was shared. How does one describe the shattering of their identity? Of their soul?
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