Becca's Birthday; an invitation

This week has been full of lessons. I have been going through some financial complications due to the aftermath of my breakup. I've been trying really hard to budget and take control of my piling debts. Finances are something I never learnt or had to take responsibility for in my old life. Despite my best possible efforts in my new found independence, I will probably be losing a big material item in the near future. Initially, this news enraged me and brought me to my latest 1.5 hour emotional breakdown at work. Thank god for the waxing room; my frequent crying place. After my meltdown I had some time to think and regroup and have come to the conclusion that it doesn't matter. This is the last major item that I have tying me to my old life, and I need to be okay with letting it go. I need to learn to not let my attachment to things have control over my happiness. I didn't want or need it anyways, and I can adapt to life without it. Let go, I just need to let go.

This week was Valentines and I was alone. I kept busy and tried my best to make the most of a mess, like I always do. I sent flowers to my girls; one bouquet which I had delivered to Becca at school, and another which I had delivered to Summer at home. This was way more than I could afford but I tried. I hope they remember the little things, even though I'm far I hope they see how much I miss them. I wish I could have seen their perfect blue eyes light up when they arrived.

 Today is Becca's 8th birthday, and I would have given anything I could to sprout wings so I could be there. I need to let go of the things that are outside of my control. I really need to learn to fucking breathe.  I sent her a package for her birthday with crystals I picked special and charged them in my pocket with all of the love. I believe in the magic, I have to. I have to believe that love and energy is everything. I hope she takes value in the little things. I hope she will see that the little things are actually the big things.

I'm trying to remind myself that one day, when i'm more on my feet, there will be more birthdays, and more memories, and today is just one day. but I will never get back her 8th birthday. I won't be making her a cake like every other year before now; making a big deal out of every little detail so she can have the most perfect party. I won't get to sneak into her room and watch her sleep, even though I know the years of her being small, innocent and full of wonder are slipping away. She's growing so fast. I won't get to be there when she blows out her candles and makes her wishes. I wonder if she wishes for me, and if she does and it doesn't come true, I wonder if she loses faith in dreams and wishes and magic. I'm so fucking scared of my absence making her hard. I'm scared the pain will make her build walls. I'm so scared all the time, I forget to breathe.

The thing about all of my crazy emotions is that none of them are permanent, they roll in and then out (like the ocean waves, my mama would say). That is amazing. Chaos isn't forever. Though I'm not physically there every moment, I wont waste a moment trying to get them back into my arms. Not a moment passes that I'm not sending them all of my love. I hope she learns to let her pain roll in and then out like waves. I hope her pain will not define her.

To my Becca Bear on your 8th Birthday, though you're not reading now, one day you might.

 

The Invitation by Oriah

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for

and if you dare to dreamyou ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know 
if you will risk 
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are 
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you 
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know 
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone 
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

 

Egg-shelled and star crossed- A Valentines Story.

Once, before I knew what it felt like to be hurt, I liked feeling vulnerable. I used to do everything for him. I wanted a family. I wanted a home. I had this idea in my head that if I kept holding on as tight as I could, everything would be okay. I tried my best to sweep our growing pain and problems under the rug, for the sake of my beautiful little dream. The problems grew anyways.

I knew we weren't perfect, but I tried anyways. I played my part. Despite my dedication, I always got hurt anyways. Back then, I had so much respect for him. I didn't air his dirty laundry for everyone to see. I kept my pain, and I locked it away. The only problem with that, is that pain changes you.

I used to sit by the window and wait for him to come home. My excitement at his arrival was too much for his exhaustion. I got used to rejection. Over time we avoided each other. Once upon a time I felt enraged by his lies. I'd scream and demand to know his whereabouts. Women always know when something isn't right. Lie after lie, I learnt to forgive and forget.

Why didn't he want to be home with me. What the fuck is so wrong with me that would make him hate being home so much. My insecurities grew. I swept those under the rug too, with the pain and the problems and the bullshit. I loved him anyways. I learnt to tip toe. Walking on egg shells became an art.

Somewhere amidst the sweeping, and egg shell walking, I got tired. Tired of not being good enough. Tired of getting hurt. Tired of living for someone who cared more about money made than time spent. At some point I cried every fucking tear that I had. I gave every fucking piece of myself that there was nothing left for him. To say he's completely to blame wouldn't be true. I let go of my beautiful little dream.

I decided if anybody was to get hurt again, it wouldn't be me.
If anybody was going to stay up and worry, it wouldn't be me.

If he taught me anything at all, he taught me how to lie. How to put on a smile and sweep the secrets under the rug. "It's okay to lie if nobody gets hurt"- he'd say.

It was at this crossroads; of losing my vulnerability and finding my carelessness, that I fell in love.

Only it wasn't with him.

The thing about love, at least the kind I found, is that it has no discretion. It doesn't grow slowly, it swells inside you, at the most inconvenient of times, with often the most unimaginable person. Love doesn't care about the rules. It makes you forget about the rules. Love makes you forget about everybody else, and in a room full of the others, you only see him.

It teaches you that maybe, after all the pain, you are good enough; at least behind closed doors.
It teaches you that on late nights when you feel alone, he's feeling alone too. A love like this teaches you that you're never really alone, because somewhere out there, he's lonely for you too. It teaches you that nothing matters, except time spent. A love like this reminds you that your heart still pounds. Passion still exists. It reminds you that nothing matters but staying up late to talk about every worry, every dream, and everything in between. A love like this has a way of shaking up your whole world, and realize that all this time you were chasing the wrong dream.

A man like this teaches you that you are no longer to be taken for granted; that you are beautiful, amazing and strong.That no matter where you are and who you're with, somebody has seen you for
all that you are.

I am so lucky to have had 3 great loves in my young life, for all that they were, and all that they are.

Young love, which taught me what love is NOT, and about letting go.
Star crossed love, which taught me what love IS and how to chase it.
and Present love, which is still teaching me everyday.

Happy Valentines Day to all of my loves. 

xoxoxo

You won't be 26 forever.

Lately I have been doing a lot of 'soul' work. I concluded my last post by saying that 2015 was about losing myself, and that 2016 was about finding myself. I've got a lot going on in my life and in my mind. I've been meticulously practising balance; sleep, work, legal/life obligations, and yoga. On any given day I usually get up at 6 am so I can wake up slowly and enjoy my morning coffee, get ready for work, leave by 8:30 am, work until 5 pm, try to talk to my girls on route, straight to yoga, try to call again, home by 7 pm, eat, sleep, repeat. I've officially worked at my job for 6 months, and I actually really like working. It feels good to be learning my strength and independence despite it's struggles. It is definitely hard to stay on top of my finances. I've made a lot of changes and sacrifices that I've never had to before. I want to learn mindfulness.

Short definition.

"Mindfulness is a state of active, open attention on the present. When you're mindful, you observe your thoughts and feelings from a distance, without judging them good or bad. Instead of letting your life pass you by, mindfulness means living in the moment and awakening to experience."

This is more challenging than I originally thought. This means being mindful in all areas of my life. In fact...it's come to my attention that the old me was pretty much the polar opposite of mindful. I have a way of letting my emotions take control of me. I've been coming to the steady realization that my inability to keep my emotions under control, and be present, are a big part of how I got to where I am. What I mean by this is that if I had been able to take a step back and observe the things that were unfolding around me, and take them as they were, maybe I could have saved myself a lot of suffering. Maybe I could have stopped myself from filling voids with stuff we couldn't afford. Spending time on things that weren't important. I could have walked away when I knew the way I was living, wasn't working anymore. I was so driven by my fear of change. I let my life become poison. I accept I can't  change any of that.

I will miss Becca's birthday. I will likely miss Easter. They get bigger everyday. I'm missing fleeting moments, and it's outside of my control. I want to learn to be happy regardless of any possible outcomes in life. Breathe. I just need to breathe, let my emotions roll in and out. Let them go. I spent so much time taking things for granted. I took the present for granted. No more.

I will get up and embrace every fucking chance I get to make the present count. The present is what I have. My lawyer said it best; "You won't be 26 forever."

It's okay to be scared, it's not okay to live in fear.

xoxoxo
Steph

2015 in Review

In 2015 my life exploded in my face. As far as breakups go, mine, in classic Steph-Style, was about as difficult as could possibly be. I'm discovering through this journey that I have a knack for being unconventional. I'd like to say I didn't know I wasn't going back, but in hindsight maybe I knew somewhere deep down that I was never going home.

I've been thinking a lot about what it felt like to have a home. To have a family- a bed, a coffee maker, kids, dogs, cats; comfort. Despite the messiness of my difficult ('old') life, these things were still home to me. One day I had a home, and the next, I didn't. I don't really know how to put the pain into words. I'm sure this has been the most difficult and transformative experiences of my life. My life, as I knew it, died. For the past 9 months I have been experiencing grief in many, many, many bizarre stages. 

In my 'old' life I never really worked 'real' jobs. All I really knew was being a mom. I made a lot of mistakes in my personal life, but, despite all of the storms I created, I always held my ground as a mother. I got up everyday and tried as hard as I could to balance being a young mom. I tried to balance housework, dance, gymnastics, my broken relationship, and myself. I made their meals, wiped their tears and was there every moment. In a blink that was over.

I never got closure. I never said a proper goodbye. I left everything. My home, and everything in it. I never packed my things properly in peace. I knew it was over but I didn't know that was the last time we would all be together. I didn't get closure. That's strange, and sad.

It terrifies me to think of the affect this experience has had on me, a strong adult, and how it must have affected their developing hearts. I broke their hearts. I know I did. It's excrutuating. 

In my new life  I work full-time, for almost minimum wage. I never had to worry about bills, now I do. I had the girls. I could kiss and hug them whenever I wanted. Now I can't. I'm almost 27 years old and i'm starting over as if I was only 18. Some days I feel like I'm going backwards. That's my new reality. I was spoiled in my old life. I had nice things and I got what I wanted. Cars, clothes, furniture. I had many luxuries. I took advantage of these luxuries and never really felt fulfilled by them.

The first 6 months in my new life were shock and denial. I brushed things under the rug, and ran from my growing problems and responsibilities in numerous unhealthy ways.I smoked. I forgot about fitness. I lost myself. After this phase of grief, came drowning in tears; which went on for 3 months straight. I cried myself to sleep. At work. At yoga. Here, there, everywhere. The strange thing about the crying phase was that in between the tears I started to find little bits of happy. Over time, i've learnt to hold onto the happy, longer and longer. I still cry more than I'm used to, but now I find solace in many little things I didn't appreciate before.

I appreciate the small luxuries I can still afford, because I have less. I've come to terms with having less, and am content with what I do have. I survived losing my whole world, so I have no more to lose. It's strange and freeing. I appreciate my new home, which is starting to feel more like home everyday. I appreciate when the rain finally breaks, and the sun shines through, and the pavement is clear (no snow). I appreciate coffee. I appreciate my job despite the pay, I get to be surrounded by beautiful strong women who pick me up more than they even know, everyday. I don't worry about things out of my control. I appreciate feeling what it's supposed to feel like to be loved unconditionally for the first time in my life. I appreciate how good it feels to be moving from grief and into peace and acceptance of what is.

2015 was loss. 2016 is finding.

Finding my health again.
Finding my strength again (mind & body).
Finding my passion again.
Finding my place in the girls lives.
Finding unconditional love.
Finding laughter after many tears.
Finding peace.
Finding acceptance
Finding forgiveness.

xoxoxo
Steph

Under Construction

Recently I announced that my Facebook page would be renamed, and so naturally my blog was to follow.

Over the past year, everything in my life has changed. I lost everything, and found even more. Through these big changes I have been forced to re-evaluate my values and beliefs. It became very apparent that 'Skinny Pants Fitness' was a title no longer in alignment with my personal beliefs along my journey.

So excited to continue to share and inspire health and fitness on a more genuine level!

Here's to love and laughter, bending but not breaking, and finding myself after losing it all.

My site will be experiencing some technical difficulties and broken links as I tweak things to work for the new domain. Thank you to all my friends and followers for your continued love and support! 

Namaste.
xoxoxo
Steph