Forgot my phone and realized that I am too dependent on it. I felt naked and awkward. I felt lost and unsure; insecure. I hide behind my phone. My phone has become a crutch, especially in my line of work. It has replaced my eyes, my ears, my brain, my voice, my memory and my attention. I have become so dependent on capturing everything that happens in my life for posterity that I am missing it in real-time. I have become so accustomed to instant gratification that there are no more great surprises and the real, genuine moments are few and far between. If they do happen, they are often missed only to be seen in retrospective playback.
Our phones have become a barrier between us and living in the moment. We’ve all developed such intense cases of FOMO that we are, in fact, missing out on the really important things like honest conversations, human connections, true love, trust and firsts.
I don’t want to miss another minute of my life or view it through a screen. I want to look directly into the eyes of my child as she says something, anything, to me. I want to hear her when she speaks not when I play it back. I don’t want to miss the moments for one more moment. This video by Charlene deGuzman reminded me of that.
I am committing to walking away and turning off the social media, computers and phones when I am with my family. When I am with them, those few hours every day after school until their bedtime, I will be 100% present. I owe them that. I owe me that.
I want to experience my life not document it for someone else to relive in some far off future.
I want my children to say my mother was present, she listened and she cared about it all. She loved me and I know it because she was there for all of it; paying attention and giving advice.
I want my husband to know that he is the most important person in the room with me and that when we are alone together talking, imagining our future, planning our life, it is just the two of us and not the entire Internet and there is nowhere else in the world that I would rather be.
I want my friends to know that I care about what they are saying and when I say that I am “here for them” I am really there for them, wherever that might be 100%. No more 1/2 listening with one eye on the Internet because nothing happening “out there” is more important than what is happening right here, next to me; a joke, a story, a laugh, a cry, a human experience.
Technology is a wonderful thing but it is no replacement for the human condition.I want my humanity in tact because without it, what are we?
As a mother and someone who drives with my children in the car with me 85% of the time, I think a lot about safety while driving. I want our time in the car to be as safe as possible and that means, no texting and driving. I have to admit, it is difficult. Well, Sprint has come up with a device that disables text messaging while you’re driving. How awesome is that? It saves you from even being tempted to text.
It’s called an OBD2 device or User Based Insurance. The Sprint wireless network hosts a line of products for insurance companies that plug into your car under the dashboard. It can send information about how your automobile is being driven and you can disable text messaging while the car is being driven. You can ask your insurance agent for one or see if they’re available here.
Honestly, I don’t let anyone else drive my children (because I am crazy) but this would be awesome if nannies were picking the kids up from school so that I could know how safely she was driving and disable texting.
Car accidents are the leading cause of death in U.S. teenagers. Teen drivers are three times more likely to be in a fatal car crash. More teens die from texting and driving than drunk driving. I also thinking this could be a fantastic tool to use with your teen driver to keep them safe.
Now that I’ve told you a little bit about this revolutionary device that will keep you and your loved ones safe, I’d love to invite you to our Sprint M2M #DriveSafe Twitter Party on Wednesday, September 18th at 6:00 PM PST/ 9:00 PM EST! We’ll be giving away 3 $25 Amazon Gift Cards during the Twitter Party!!!
WHAT: Sprint M2M #DriveSafe Twitter Party
WHEN: Wednesday, September 18th, 2013 from 6-7 PM PST/ 9-10 EST
When I was pregnant with Bella, I constantly listened to Celine Dion’s album Miracle. Honestly, it was my first pregnancy and I was so in love with my baby before she was ever born, like all moms-to-be. From the moment that I knew she was there, I loved her, more than life itself and I still do. This is how I have felt about every pregnancy and every child I’ve had the pleasure of growing in my body.
I would sway back and forth in her nursery, rubbing my belly and singing the songs to her, imagining all the things I would get to do with her throughout her life. All the books said that you should talk to your unborn baby because they would know your voice, and she did. She kicked and we had our long conversations in that nursery as the sun shone through the window and kissed my belly; just the two of us.
After she was born, I would soothe her to sleep in my arms, rocking in front of that same window looking down into her big blue eyes. My miracle realized; my child in my arms to love for all eternity. The love was sometimes almost overwhelming. It scared me to love someone so much; it still does.
My Bella has been sick since last Thursday when she unexpectedly passed out in my arms and my whole world feels upside down. Nothing seems right and even the air feels thicker. Yesterday, we went for her follow up and they sent us for an echocardiogram…just to be sure. My heart stopped. I thought everything was fine but I’ve been here before, that unsuspecting moment when you think life is fine and it gets completely knocked upside down. I don’t want to be here. I want to be somewhere else; anywhere else. I want to close my eyes and cover my ears and pretend none of this is happening.
The echocardiogram took what seemed like an eternity. I don’t know if that is standard or if they saw something. I only know that I feel like I can’t breathe. She’s been throwing up and laying around the house frail and sickly and I just want to take it all away.
Now, I wait for the results of one of the most important tests of my life. I am freaking out and today was the first time I’ve had the chance to process my feelings. The Big Guy is back at work, Bella went back to school and I am waiting by the phone, listening to that CD that made me so happy when I sung those songs to my Bella when she was safe in my arms and sobbing as I type this because the uncertainty is breaking my heart.
This could be the beginning of something we have to tackle or it could be nothing. Either way, I have to keep it together for Bella, my miracle.
***Update: After the doctor didn’t call last night, considering that I have been frantic since last Thursday when this all started, I called the pediatrician who is out of office until Thursday. I started choking up and crying on the phone with the nurse because my nerves are shot and practically begging them to call me as soon as the doctor walked in on Thursday morning, knowing full well that I will be a hot, sobbing mess until then. The nurse tried to talk me off my worried mommy ledge but it wasn’t working. She just called back and said she called the doctor at home and after consulting with the pediatric cardiologist: “No need to worry. No abnormalities. No issues. No Restrictions!” Thank You God and everyone who prayed. I’ve never been so happy to hear the word no in my life. WHEW!!!Exhale!Breathe….that’s what the nurse just told me. I am trying but first I must finish the stress crying.
Last fall, I received a personal laser hair removal system because I’d already shaved myself silly for the past 30 years and waxing hurts my feelings. My 7-year-old saw it and asked what it was. I told her. Then, she mentioned the hair on her arms. She said if the laser hair removal treatment worked, she wanted me to use it on her. I took notice but didn’t want to make a “thing” of it. It felt like a little punch to my gut that this was a concern of my 2nd grader. It broke my heart a little.
I’ve always believed that when my daughters came to me about hairy legs, out of control eyebrows or the inevitable extra lip hair (because God knows I am living proof of maintenance) that I would help them. It wouldn’t be an issue, until they came to me if it bothered them. As long as they love the skin they are in, that’s all that matters to me.
I remember being in middle school myself and having hairy legs and my dad forbidding me to shave my legs. I had to wear ugly tube socks to hide the Sasquatch I was evolving into. It was humiliating. Eventually, embarrassment and humiliation got the best of me, I butchered shaved my legs and nearly took my ankle off with it. I never wanted my girls to have to sneak and shave their legs, tweeze their eyebrows or, heaven forbid, wax their mustache. Mostly, I never wanted them to feel that awkward humiliation or be stumped when someone else pointed out what they already knew.
So, when my 7-year-old came to me for a second time last night and asked me if I could laser her tiny little arms, I looked her straight in the face and asked her, “Why do you want me to take the hair off of your arms?” And she answered, “Because it bothers me, Mommy.” I made the decision to stick by my guns and I agreed to shave her arms.
You see when she originally asked about it, I consulted my aesthetician and she recommended shaving her arms. When my daughter came to me, very seriously, after several months and still wanted the hair gone. I had to do what was best for her.
I took her to my bathroom. I explained that hair is natural and we all have it. Some of us have more than others but that if this were what SHE wanted, I would shave her arms. She was sure.
I washed her arms. Lathered them with shaving cream and almost surreally,
I shaved her tiny arms from her elbow to her wrist.
When we were done, she hugged me and said, “Oh, Mommy! They are so smooth. Now, I don’t have to wear my fleece every day in class to cover my arms!”
She was ecstatic. She ran downstairs to show her dad and her sister. And then I died a little bit inside, as I held back the tears because I realized that she hadn’t given me the entire story.
I followed her downstairs, pulled her aside and asked, “Baby, why do you wear your fleece every day in class?”
Then she said something I never wanted to hear, “ Well, *Sophie asked my why my arms were so hairy. Then she told me they were weird. Then she laughed.”
I can tell you that as a mom, I wanted to punch this other 7-year-old in the face because she has put it in my daughter’s head that her arms are weird because they have hair on them. That will never go away. She’s never going to forget that moment that someone laughed and called her “weird” because of her body. That infuriates me.
I know some of you reading this are thinking why on the earth would you shave your 7-year-old’s arms? I realize that it sounds vain and cosmetic and no I don’t want to encourage my girls to believe that they need to change to meet society’s expectations of beauty. This wasn’t about that. This was me helping my daughter feel better about herself because it bothered her just like I would take her to a dermatologist if she had acne or get her braces if her teeth were crooked.
I shaved my daughter because that’s what she needed to feel happy in her skin.
I’m thrilled my daughter feels more confident without the hair on her arms but I’m hoping, since I didn’t have the entire story, that I didn’t send the wrong message. I don’t want her to think she has to conform to other people’s concept of beauty because I think she’s perfect already.
What would you have done in this situation?
Would you have shaved your 7-year-old if you could see it truly bothered her?
In a couple weeks, Disney Junior Live On Tour! Pirate & Princess Adventure is coming to our town and lucky me, I’ve been offered tickets for review to take my girls. They will be ecstatic. They love Sofia the First and Jake and the Neverland pirates. A little bird also told me that there might be a couple surprise guests; paging Doc McStuffins! I can’t wait to surprise my girls on Friday October 25 th, when I pick them up from school and announce that we will be seeing this production!
I’ll have to be sure to grab a couple tiaras and doubloons before we head out. Mickey and Minnie are taking their seats too at this never-before-seen live show featuring our favorite characters from Disney Junior’s hit series, Sofia the First and Jake and the Never Land Pirates. I hear Sofia and her family are preparing for a royal celebration that helps us all learn the true meaning of being a princess with a special appearance from Cinderella. Cinderella!!! My girls are going to go crazy!
Then it’s off to Never Land where Jake and his swashbuckling friends Izzy and Cubby, with a little help from Peter Pan, battle Captain Hook to unlock treasure hidden inside a mysterious volcano. It’s danger and dueling on the high seas as Jake discovers what it takes to be a true hero.
Filled with new music, amazing effects, thrilling action and endless surprises, I’m sure our whole family will enjoy Disney Junior Live On Tour! Pirate & Princess Adventure!
Special bonus! Starting ten minutes before every performance you can join the loveable Doc McStuffins for a special pre-show! You and your child can help Doc take care of one of her beloved toys with her own special brand of love and magic. Maybe it will be Lambie???? I hope so.
I will be there! Will you? If you want to go you can buy tickets here and bonus you can save $5 per ticket by using the promo code “BLOG” ! Hope to see you there.
Disclaimer: I am being provided tickets to DIsney Junior Live Tour! Pirate and Princess Adventure but all opinions are my own!
Discombobulated. Exhausted. What time is it? What day is it? Wow! I am in the throes of one of the worst Christmas hangovers I’ve ever experienced. It’s outrageous. My poor blog has suffered and fallen to the wayside of my priorities. With all the moments saturated in holiday joy and togetherness, sitting down to write about it seemed to feel like it might spoil the magic. I wanted to live it not write about it and that is what I did and it was magnificent.
On December 14th the Nutcracker ended and then I played the most intensive game of catch up that I’ve ever had the misfortune to take part in. My blogging has been shit because I had so many obligations that I needed to get done. Then Christmas came and I have purposely been spending time with my girls and the Big Guy. I am like a damn quality time camel, I am trying to suck it all up while we are in this holiday bubble, before people start going back to school and work, before deadlines are mounting and the out-of-control-ness of life takes hold once again.
I do want to get back to blogging like I did in the beginning before I had to worry about who was or wasn’t reading. I’m forgetting that my mom, mother-in-law and Homeland security have all been known to frequent my page. I want to blog like no one is reading once again. I want to comment and read blogs. I want to know what’s going on outside my bubble. I want people to give me their perspective on what I write even if they disagree. I want to have long, drawn out conversations in 140 characters. I want to make new friends online. I want to hug the necks of all those who have taken the time to engage. I want quality to matter over quantity. I want content to be king again. I don’t want to worry about fucking SEO, my “numbers” or how much to charge. I want to write what I feel and say what I mean and not give a damn.
I have a list of goals for my life, the blog and my family (by the way, I always have a list of goals not just on the brink of a New Year. I am a chronic list maker, if you are one too, I am sure that you have a list of goals at all times too. Go ahead, flip through your phone, notebook or journal, I’ll wait). I want to be better and yet, I want to be who I am; loud and proud and free of over-thinking. I don’t want to worry about other people’s judgment or care what they think about what I have to say. I want to blog like no one is reading. I want to live like there is no tomorrow and I want to dance like no one is watching.
Life is too short to do anything else. So this year, I have my list of things that I want to accomplish. Most are things that I do already, some are things I need to remind myself to do and others I have completely forgotten or given up on but I like a challenge so on my list they remain. 2013 was good to me, better than 2012, but I want to blow the roof off of 2014, in so many ways. Mostly, I want to be better, love harder and live fully. I want to mommy with compassion and patience, I want to be more present in my life and more passionate in my marriage. I want to give 110% to the things that matter and most of all, I want to be happy with myself with no regrets.
I wish all of you an abundance of love, peace in your heart and success in your every endeavor. Be brave, blog like no one is reading and live like each day is a new beginning of your story. Embrace it with enthusiasm and wonder, because each day is a chance to rewrite your story. Each moment is redemption and salvation. Don’t plan for how you want to live your life…just live, right this moment; every minute of every single day for the rest of your life.
Wishing you all the happiest New Year filled with moments that take your breath away!
I am serious about wanting to read and comment of blogs and I am serious about more conversations on Twitter and I really want to have conversations and share on FB not just read and like links like its a job. I want to look forward to hearing what you have to say. Let’s do this. Let’s bring it back.Let’s blog like no one is reading…like it’s 2009.
Leave your blog url, twitter handle or FB page in the comments and I will check you out. Here’s to 2014!
The family of 18-year-old, Keith Vidal, called their local police for help when their son was behaving erratically during a schizophrenic episode last Sunday night. The 18-year-old from Boiling Spring Lake, North Carolina, was first tasered by two police officers and on the ground when shot and killed by a third officer, Bryon Vassey, from the neighboring town of Southport.
According to this emotional video by Keith Vidal’s stepbrother, Mark Ryan Wilsey, Keith was recently diagnosed with Schizophrenia and was coping while dosing was being figured out.
Vidal’s father, Mark Wilsey, called the police Sunday night because his son was armed with an electric, six-inch screwdriver and was threatening his mother. According to the family the two officers had the situation under control, with the 100-pound Keith Vidal on the ground tasered, when Officer Vassey entered the premises and within 60 seconds said, “We don’t have time for this.” Then he shot Keith Vidal in the chest, killing him. I can’t get the disturbing image out of my head of someone putting down a lame dog.
Officer Vassey first said he was ‘defending himself,” only to later say through his lawyer he was defending another officer. How could deadly force be the only option when there are 3 officers and a Taser involved to subdue one skinny teenager?
My heart breaks for this family. Any person who has ever dealt with, loved with or been mentally ill knows that getting the right meds dosage is critical. Sometimes it takes months or even years to find the right dosage. Meds can alter your state of mind sometimes even worse than the mental illness itself.
This kid was 18-years-old and recently diagnosed. Can you imagine what a pill it is to swallow to be told that you have a mental illness and will be medicated for the rest of your life just to be “normal”? I can. When I was first diagnosed with Bipolar 1, I was at a point in my life where I had been ill for years with no help. No diagnosis. I felt irreparably broken. I felt alone and severed from everyone around me. I can’t even describe to you what it feels like to feel so broken. The closest I can compare it to would be like living in quick sand and you are being swallowed whole by the disease but the more you struggle to resist, to survive the deeper you sink and the more likely you are to lose yourself. It is terrifying because you don’t know why this is happening to you. Was it something you did or didn’t do?
When I finally got a diagnosis, I was terrified but relieved. Relieved that there was help to be had and to find that I wasn’t so broken as much as really bent. It was a struggle to get back to “normal”; whatever that is. I’m not sure I really know. Normal is relative, I suppose.
It took months of highs and lows. I was originally misdiagnosed as depressed and given enough anti-depressants to kill a horse, which made me ever increasingly manic. In the end, I was at the brink of psychosis. I saw madness. I felt it. Touched it. Lived it. It was the biggest part of me.
Eventually, anti-depressants were taken down to next to nothing; stabilizers and Ambien entered the picture. Where mania once ran rampant, now zombie like living: walking into walls and all-consuming lethargy had become part of who I was. After a few months, I was finally regulated and began to feel “normal” for the first time in years; maybe ever.
It all seems so cut and dry when you write it out but it’s not. The part I haven’t told you that before my medication dosage was right, I was highly erratic. I was like a ticking time bomb. What was going on inside my head was so distracting that it left me annoyed and irrationally angry with myself and everyone around me. Later, through therapy, I realized that the irritability was directly proportional to my mania. My body and mind were pissed off because no one ever turned the lights off. My body and mind were exhausted and there was no off switch to be had.
I did irrational things just to feel alive because I ALWAYS needed to feel alive; I drove fast, lived fast and never considered consequences. I teetered between feeling invincible and wanting to die. I drank a lot. I know now that I subconsciously did that to shut things off. It’s actually pretty common. I alienated family and friends because I overreacted to everything. Sometime between high school and college graduation, I had spun completely out of control. The insomnia was just fuel to the fire.
I fully accept responsibility for my behavior in those days though, honestly, I had no real control over a lot of it. I never wielded a weapon at my parents but I did throw a friend’s belongings off my balcony and came pretty damn close to tossing her as well during a particularly manic episode. I used to be quite good at pushing people away. I think I was afraid they’d see the real me and know something was “off ”. Even before I knew what it was, I knew something wasn’t right. I hoped and prayed that there was a reason for the behavior.
My whole point for this very long and drawn out story is that if you met me today, you’d know that I’m not the same person I was at 18, 21 or even 25. I am the mother of two, a wife, and even a room mother. I am just like you but maybe I wouldn’t be if someone decided that they had no time for me to get help; to learn to live with my diagnosis. Perhaps, this is the problem with the world, we resign ourselves to believe that those who are mentally ill are dangerous, less than or even worthless. We forget that they are people, just like you and I.Well, more like me than you, I suppose:) My point is that just because someone is mentally ill doesn’t mean they can’t be valuable members of society or good human beings. It only means that they might have a more difficult journey than the rest of us.
Officer Vassey might have been scared and felt threatened because sometimes in the midst of an episode, the person suffering looks scary. The fact remains that if two officers had Keith Vidal tasered on the ground, what possible reason could there have been to shoot him? Unlike me, Keith Vidal is dead and now, will never have the chance to learn to live with his disease; to grow up, to have a family, to be a dad or a husband.
What are your thoughts on this tragic story? What would you do if you were Keith Vidal parents?
You know what no one teaches us as children? How to say NO! Sure we may say “no” for a few years in obstinate defiance as children but soon, that is beaten out of us ( not literally but we are told over and over again that it’s not nice to say no!) We are taught from the time we are toddlers that to be pleasing in word, deed and action to those who surround us. We are even urged to look pleasing. Inadvertently, we are turned into yes to people. We are taught that to say no is to be disagreeable. “No” comes with a metric ton of guilt. But what no one tells you is that “no” can be empowering. We all need to learn how to say no, not feel bad about it and carry on. Guilt is overrated. I have enough guilt from drinking the Kool-Aid that’s told me there is such a thing as the “perfect parent”, when we all know the “perfect parent” is no more real than unicorns.
I’ve spent my entire life trying to fit in. That is what society dictates. To be “pleasing” is not the same as coloring my world all unicorns and rainbows but it is also not in your face instigation. I assume it comes from growing up in a household and a society where I was told regularly to ‘be quiet” as to not rock the boat or cause discourse. Why the fuck is it so important for everyone to like what everyone else says or wants? Once I really thought about it, sure who doesn’t like to be “liked” but then I thought, if I’m always saying yes to shit I hate, it’s all a big lie anyways and no ones pleased really; not the people I am saying yes to and certainly, not me. Not to mention, saying yes can become overwhelming and you will find yourself bogged down with things that you don’t want to do and missing opportunities that would be better suited to your life. This can happen in your career, school, family or friendships.
I’m sure the people pleasing started when I was a child. I wanted to make my parents happy like all children. I wanted to feel special among the 6 children they had. My claim to “special” child was pleasing disposition and great grades. I said yes, I did my chores, I did my homework and I strove for perfection in all areas. I thrived in the praise of , “Good job, Debi!” But then it was never enough. Parental approval became like a drug and soon I found myself feeling let down and never able to meet the standards.I just kept saying yes to please people, even though I was becoming completely miserable. In fact, I found myself finding excuses to refuse offers to go or do things because I just felt like me not wanting to was not a valid reason. It seemed selfish and warranted disapproval.
Why can’t we all just have our feelings without seeking validation from others. I have friends that I love but we don’t agree on politics or religion or even the color of the sky but we are friends still; we agree to disagree. I respect them as people and I respect their right to their opinion even if I don’t agree. I like hearing their perspectives. Hell, maybe I’ll learn something or they will point out something I never even thought of. I would never want a friend who only always said yes because if they only ever agreed with what I said, I’d have to wonder if they ever had a thought of their own and if they were genuine at all.
I know all this about myself and I am trying to break the involuntary response to placate others without ever considering first what I want. Still , on a regular basis people ask me to do stuff that I don’t want to do and do not benefit me in anyway and I say yes because I don’t want to hurt feelings, piss people off or I simply have no excuse to refuse other than I just don’t want to. Saying no doesn’t make you selfish. People do huge life changing things for the wrong reason all the time because they are afraid to say know. People marry the wrong person, take the wrong career path,stay in a marriage and even have children because it was what was expected of them. That is just not a good enough reason.
Who says no because they don’t want to unless they are a two-year-old throwing a tantrum? I am an adult and somehow saying no feels petty. Who wants to be thought of as petty? I often find myself frustrated and doing something I didn’t want to do but didn’t think I had the right to say no. Why can’t I say no? I don’t want to do it. I am an adult. I have the right to make a choice. The right to refuse. Remember to consider if when you say yes to others are you saying no to yourself? I am saying no from now on when I don’t want to do something and I refuse to qualify why to others.
Last week, it just clicked for me and someone asked me to do something that I didn’t want to and before I could even think about it, I said no. I caught myself and I felt embarrassed and guilty. It was a simple request from my husband to help him shovel the snow, during the blizzard. He never asks me to but there was a LOT of snow. But I was cold and the thought of shoveling snow that was 14 inches high and still falling felt too daunting a task and I wanted no part of it.I said no and I meant it. I think I shocked him. I eventually acquiesced and we shoveled together. Thank God, it may have killed him shoveling al that snow by himself. But when I said no, you can’t believe how happy it made me to say it out loud.
It starts with little things like, “Come on try a piece of this or that, just a taste.” You want to say no but why bother it’s only a small piece but then before you know it, it’s your virginity, your career, your happiness. It’s your life. When does it stop? We get into a habit of avoiding conflict and just saying yes. Say NO. What’s the worst that can happen? You inconvenience someone else? So what. Isn’t your happiness just as important as theirs.
Forgo the guilt and soak up the giddy excitement and sheer joy that comes with saying no. It’s invigorating to say no. Now, I understand why the two-year-olds love it so much. The liberation of saying no to something that you genuinely don’t want to do is one of the most . Consider yourselves, your wants and needs before you answer and if you don’t want to do something, feel free to confidently and graciously say no. Grinning and bearing it never made anyone happy and lying to get out of things is exhausting. Feel heard and know that you should never feel afraid to have an opinion. Somethings in life we have to do, even if we don’t like them because they are what is best for us. Guilt should not be a part of saying no.
“Atheists tend to be more intelligent than religious people, according to a US study.Researchers found that those with high IQs had greater self-control and were able to do more for themselves – so did not need the benefits that religion provides.
They also have better self-esteem and built more supportive relationships, the study authors said.
The conclusions were the result of a review of 63 scientific studies about religion and intelligence dating between 1928 and last year. In 53 of these there was a ‘reliable negative relation between intelligence and religiosity’. In just 10 was that relationship positive.
They defined intelligence as the ‘ability to reason, plan, solve problems, think abstractly, comprehend complex ideas, learn quickly, and learn from experience’.
In their conclusions, they said: ‘Most extant explanations (of a negative relation) share one central theme – the premise that religious beliefs are irrational, not anchored in science, not testable and, therefore, unappealing to intelligent people who ‘know better’.
‘Intelligent people typically spend more time in school – a form of self-regulation that may yield long-term benefits.
‘More intelligent people getting higher level jobs and better employment and higher salary may lead to higher self-esteem, and encourage personal control beliefs.’
Okay, so all of that being said, I am calling bullshit. I am religious and I am also intelligent. I don’t think that the two are mutually exclusive. And yes, I have proof that I am intelligent. I have graduate degrees and credible IQ scores. I have even taken theology courses on various religions but still, I believe in a God and my faith remains. This is why there is no conflict for me. At the core of my belief is that God created the universe and from there evolution happened. Time passed; people, the world and the universe have changed.
My faith was instilled when I was a small child. Yes, blind faith. I absorbed it all in and took it to my heart and gave myself over to it. I needed to believe there was something more. I’ve experienced hardships and I needed to believe in a savior if not, what was the point? Above all else, I believe that there is a God and through God, all things are possible. I see miracles every single day of my life and maybe they are all explainable by science but they are miracles to me nonetheless. Science and medicine are miracles to me. A baby being born is a miracle. Honest, raw, enduring, authentic, unconditional love is a damn miracle. The kindness of strangers is a miracle. All that being said, I know that man is only a man and I am cautiously skeptical of just about everyone.
Do I dismiss scientific facts? Not, at all. Do I dislike or judge atheists or people who are not of my own religion? No, because I also believe in choice and tolerance and everyone has their own choice to make. We live with our own choices so why should anyone else judge us? I judge people on how they behave and move through the world not by their labels. Many of my dearest friends and favorite people are Jewish, Hindi, Buddhists and every other religion and some of my friend’s don’t believe in God at all. Are they more or less intelligent than me? The answer is yes and yes because I don’t think your religious preference makes you intelligent or ignorant, your brain and nurturing do. How you act and behave with those beliefs is what determines that. Do I try to push my beliefs on anyone else? Never, because it’s a very personal. decision. Do I believe they will be damned or cast out of some afterlife utopia? No. I believe that God is tolerant and loving and I’m not dead so I have no proof about what happens after we die. Maybe we do just all go to the ground. Maybe we recycle and keep coming back until we get it right. Either way, I want to be kind to people. I want to live like every day is my last and I want them all to count, here on earth.
My faith in God is what gives me my faith in me. Through God all things are possible and through hard work and determination all things are possible for me. My faith is anchored in the belief that good people deserve good things. I know that life is not fair. I have experienced it first hand and I have questioned my faith. Believe me! But in the end, my faith is nourishment for my starving soul. My faith grants me serenity in this chaotic world of unpredictability.
My faith is based in my belief that doing the right thing is always right even if the other person chooses to reciprocate by doing the wrong thing to me, that is on them. I am only responsible for my actions and only accountable to my own conscience which maybe, that is what God really is, my moral compass. But when my fears and burdens are too great, faith allows me to hand them off to a higher place; to leave them on a shelf because worrying helps nothing. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t work to fix my issues first myself. I believe in modern medicine, working hard and doing good in the world. I believe in people. I trust in humanity. God helps those who help themselves.
I don’t expect to sit on my ass and hope for something/ someone to magically take care of me. For me, faith is hope. It is being able to have faith that good can come of even the worst of humanity. Having hope that when life looks dim and worthless, it can turn around. It helps me to see the good in people. How can that be bad or make me unintelligent? Naïve, maybe but I can’t believe that putting my faith in the good in people or the world is wrong.
Isn’t an atheist judging me to be ignorant because of my faith equally as offensive as a Christian judging an atheist to be the same for his lack there of?
Ladies, have you heard? The BUSH is back! I don’t mean of the George W. or George Herbert or any other kind of political bush. I am talking about full-on 1970’s au natural pubic region BUSH! I write that in all caps because I was born in 1972, hit puberty in the 80’s and I don’t think I have ever grown in more than a landing strip. Bush is a big deal. It’s a game changer. Going back to bush is like a giant “Eff You!” to sexist mainstream society. It’s bra burning for 2014.
If you want proof that pubic hair is back in vogue, just watch last night’s episode of Girls in which Gaby Hoffman was rocking a way over grown, gratuitous bush. I was a little shocked to see a bush on the television because you just don’t see that. Then there was the American Apparel mannequins and recent interviews in which Cameron Diaz proclaimed that she is going back to her au natural state as did Gwyneth Paltrow. Looks like the over 40 set has decided to forgo the Brazilian and just see what happens.
Oh.MY.GOD.Becky, Look at that BUSH!
That is exactly what would have been heard round the locker rooms in the 80’s had anyone thought to go rogue and grow a full on 1970’s porn bush. I would have been laughed out of high school. It was bad enough my dad wouldn’t let me shave my legs and I had to rock tube socks to hide that fact. There was no way I was growing out a pubic area afro. I didn’t care how bad it itched when it grew back in or hurt when you got an ingrown hair, I didn’t even mind the lip slip of 1989. That was a close one, I almost lost a labia. But I survived with no bush and became stronger because of it.
Look if you were born in the 80’s, I am pretty sure that you have never seen a true full on bush unless you walked in on your grandma in the shower. Well, maybe if you are Amish, I am assuming that since you aren’t allowed to use zippers, razors are forbodden, as well. In which case, you know the bush and the tube socks, all to well.
I’ve been landscaping my nether regions since they began to grow in.I had no choice. It was what was expected. My pubic region has looked prepubescent for so many years that I’m not even sure if I could grow a full on bush. I mean, it kind of explains why my boobs took so long to grow in. If they were waiting for the pubic hair to come in fully as a sign to grow, I can see where the confusion came in.I suppose there are some benefits to a bush if you are over 50, to hide the wrinkles but then you would have gray hairs, right? That’s got to age you.
To be honest, with this new fad of full bush coming back, I am a little afraid that I will be completely out of style because it’s been so long since I have had any pubic hair, I may be in for quite the surprise like those men who purposely shave themselves bald in their 20’s as a fashion statement only to find in their 30’s that their hair will not grow back in and they are, in fact, now unintentionally bald. I’m afraid I may have landscaped myself right out of style in 2014.
Oh well, let’s be honest. I am not really too keen on the whole idea of bush anyways. I personally don’t relish the thought of looking like I have a midget with an afro in a headlock between my legs and not to be TMI,(though I just wrote an entire post on pubic hair) but some of us are just hairier than others. The thought of catching pubic hair on the sticky side of a panty liner sounds excruciating. I’m not even sure that I have panties equipped to handle a full bush. That sounds like a job for a younger girl with bigger panties and don’t even think about going commando with a bush because I am pretty sure that getting that thing caught in a zipper would be like pulling nose hairs.
But all joking aside, a woman’s beauty should never be wrapped up in what is between her legs and certainly not in its packaging. Hair grows on our bodies for a reason ( well, everything except for the upper lip hair I’m sure that’s just a cruel joke) and why would we want our women’s bodies to look like little girls? Hair is a personal thing, some of us like it long and some of us like it short and some like none at all. I say, do whatever makes YOU feel beautiful and whether that means being bald or wearing a thick, full afro between your legs, go on with your bad self!
So if you want to be in vogue in 2014, burn your bras, back away from the wax and razors and don your natural bush because baby, the bush is back.
What do you think of the new fashion of women growing in their body hair? Will you love the bush or leave it?
