cleverly disguised as a responsible adult

I feel rather put together today.

• Thanks to college teaching me that I don't really like my natural hair color, I have freshly hennaed hair in a deep wine red.
• Thanks to Teacher M showing me that peacocks make one happy, I have a turquoise shirt and a gold and cream scarf patterned with teal peacock feathers
• Thanks to the Field Museum, I have purple socks with dinosaurs on.
• Thanks to my grandmother teaching me to crochet when I was small, I have lacy fingerless gloves to ward off the chill of my office.
• Thanks to replyhazy , I have gold Alegria clogs with roses and skulls. They are spectacular.
• Thanks to the internet introducing me to Espoinage Cosmetics, I will shortly put in very little effort and have red and black sparkly nails.
• Thanks to Headspace, I'm slowly gaining a sense of clarity and mindfulness that's helping put some distance and perspective around my anxiety. I'm still full of bees, but we're also getting some honey.

Even though my previously favorite skirt no longer zips, I have a skirt bought around the same time that's still flattering and comfortable.

In searching for the shirt that I wore to my kids' birthday party 2 years ago, I found a t-shirt on my shelf that's astonishingly cheerful coral flowers.

I am one with the glitter body lotion. It's permeating all my stuff. My car glitters. My purse glitters. My clothes glitter. I'm fabulous, y'all.

The coffee cart at work brought back their Magic Coffee for the summer. It's iced coffee with brown sugar, cinnamon, half-and-half, and crack. It's only been here for 2 days and it's already owning my soul. To combat this, I've tasked Downwood with starting some iced coffee at home, and I'll figure out how to make the sweetener myself.

I told Emi this morning how proud I was of her yesterday. She did 2 loads of dishes all by herself (mostly. Daddy helped/supervised). She was SO PROUD. Apparently, when Downwood started doing dishes, she had a TOTAL MELTDOWN because he wasn't letting her help. So he filled the sink with clean water, put in her dishes, and told her to go to town. So proud. So big.

We started a new choreography last night. It's an OMG!Fast drum solo. It has some nifty call/response sections, a 10/8 section, and we got about a minute into it last night. This is a minute of choreography that Teacher M made up on the fly for us, so it was even more impressive that we got that far in 35 minutes.

We also got to dance for several minutes to a lovely saxophone tacsim. It was ooey, gooey, and so very much fun. M had to run out to her car for the music, so it was just free dance for those minutes. It was fantastic and felt really good.

I published the first scene in my Storium game this morning. Let's see how this goes.

I got most of our bills paid online this morning. I have a few more checks to write and then I'm done for a couple weeks. The glow of accomplishment looks good on me.

If anyone else talked to me the way I talk to myself in my head, I'd leave. I'd call them a bully and a mean person and I'd have nothing further to do with them.

So why do I do it? 

I internalized too much of the criticism over the years. I internalized too much of the media focus on "you must be slender and beautiful or else all your other accomplishments mean nothing". It's way easier to think bad things than try to change the script.

Fuck that noise. I can do this. I don't have to be limited by brain chemistry or past failure. I can do this. I can stop the "I'm fat and ugly and it's no wonder I'm sad all the time because I don't have talent or ambition or perseverance or any of the things that make successful people successful".

Yes, my BMI is overweight. Yes, I'm squishy around the middle. Yes, I feel uncomfortable in belly-baring tops. So. Fucking. What. I have amazing legs, a great rack (especially when I wear a bra that fits well), and elegant arms and shoulders. Yes, I need to get more exercise to help my mood and to let me dance more and outrun zombies. When I wear clothes that fit and make an effort, I'm pretty.

I'm pretty fucking talented, too. I'm smart and can book-learn things quickly. I've taught myself things like sewing, crochet, mini painting (with input from Downwood), and lately I've started learning how to henna. I can do these things because I want to.

I can dance. Even if I feel like an ungraceful spastic squirrel, that's no need for me to give up. Fuck that. So I'm not slender and bendy enough or practice enough to be a rotation dancer. So. Fucking. What. That's not the only measure of success for dancing. When Ox is handed a length of glitter dot material, he demands that I tie it 'round his waist. Then he dances and shimmies like a maniac. That right there is success. Emi loves to dance. That right there is success. Both of them love to drum. Downwood loves to drum. We have family drumming time. That right there is success.

I'm a good mom. I work a lot, but when I'm home, I try to be there for my kids. They can be total pills, but Emi's idea that our family resolution should be More Hugs is a good thing. Ox is a snuggle bug. Emi is a snuggle bug. I don't yell and I don't hit or spank. When they do something wrong I remove them from the situation and explain. Emi takes it really hard. Ox isn't sure yet, but he's 2 and he'll get there. They're good kids, inquisitive kids, and I love them to pieces. I help them explore the things that they're curious about and try to plan things for us to do together. I'm a good mom and I'm not hurting them by being around.

Fuck all that hating crap that's constantly on repeat in my head. I don't need it. I don't need any of it. I'm tired, I'm physically hurting, and I'm hungry. And I don't need anything else trying to drag me down.

I'm a human being. I have value. I will see another sunrise. I will give and receive more hugs.

This is going to take work. And time. And being gentle with myself.

So be it.