No more a woman of society

As soon as I was born into this world I had colors chosen for me. As a girl in this American society, I had a pink bedspread, and lavender walls. I chose the colors, so I thought, but not without society playing a role.  My clothes consisted of frilly, lacy, dresses, and bows for my hair. My hair grew out long, and was  brushed  and styled every morning.
Around the age of 4, my mom was away for some time, and my dad was left having to brush my hair. He didn't quite know how do brush through the knots without pulling my hair at the scalp, causing much pain. I would scream and cry, and he would get so angry. I understand now how difficult this had to be for my dad, he was trying to do everything with 2 children, and keep a job. But at the time, I thought he was just angry with me, and didn't care about hurting me. My head was always sore. but having long hair was more important.
I was praised for being "cute", and began to believe this was my upperhand in recieving positive attention. I was much smaller than other kids my age,  and was usually treated like I was dumb, because I looked so much younger, so "cute" was all I had.
I took ballet, when I was 6, because I wanted to be a beautiful ballerina, dressed up in a fancy, sparkling tutu costume, while dancing, with everyone's eyes on me. It would be the ultimate positive attention-reciever. "Look at me, look at what I can do, let me mesmerize you with how beautifuly I can move my body." That was the underlying thought behind my desire of being a ballerina. I craved positive attention. I wanted to be recognized as a beautiful girl, who stood at the top my society's view of what a girl/woman should be. Long hair, pinned back neatly, beautifuly dressed, graceful with movement.
As a pre-teen and teenager, I struggled finding fashionable clothes that fit. They were always way too big for me. My mom still liked the cute little kid clothes that fit me well, so she often talked me into buying clothes that weren't "cool". I was stuck not fitting into the mold of society's view of what makes a kid "fit in".
 By the time I was out of high school, more petite sized fashionable clothes came out, called the "junior size". I was soooooo happy about that! I could finally wear cool clothes that weren't made for young children that actually fit me! I could finally dress my age, and possibly be treated accordingly. I had become dependant on outside appearance in order to be respected.
And let's not foget about my hair and makeup. I began wearing makeup when I was in 7th grade, I was 12. It was only light pink lip gloss and natural looking eyeshadow and blush. My mom would only allow "barely- there" makeup. I felt so much older. It made me feel cool. My hair was a bit thin, so I had it permed as well at about the same time. Boy, those chemicals were harsh! It smelled aweful! I also would highlight my hair because in my society, blond hair was desired and considered sexy. I wanted to be a sexy grown up so bad, because I was always treated like a baby. Just another example of my dependence on outside appearance to gain respect and positive attention.
I eventually took this dependance on appearence and on other's opinions of me to the extreme and began working as an exotic dancer, after suspicions my boyfriend might be cheating. Not quite a ballerina, but the same underlying idea. I worked as a dancer for over 7yrs, and travelled to other states, to get away from my unnaccepting family, and cheating ex-boyfriend. It was a high paying job, with high popularity, and much adoration. But it was only a fantasy. And one that was harmful to other relationships.
I moved back to my home town to go back to college, and get a more respectable job as a personal trainer. This is when I met Josh, who later became my husband. He studied the Bible, which I thought was "goody goody", but I eventually began studying it too, out of curiosity. We both became involved with church and small bible study groups for a few yrs. Josh and I each read the bible cover to cover, Josh reading it 3 times. He extensively studied it's meaning, waking up at 5am, reading for hours, breaking at lunch at a seminary to study more. But Josh wouldn't take the pastor's word on what to believe, he had to learn the original translation himself, and discover the meaning, which was quite different from what the church has people to believe. Josh found Desteni on the net, while looking for an answer to a question, and tried to show me what he had found. I was not interested because I had found a support group that still followed the bible. I enjoyed my group, I was making friends, and getting support with my issues.
I eventually became so unhappy with marrage, that I began watching the Desteni videos for the sake of participating in something Josh liked to do.
It seemed so crazy at first, and I would laugh a lot, but I found it entertaining, like a tv show. After a few months ot watching, and listening, I began to see. To really see what was going on. It was all tying together. Explanations on what we are accepting and allowing to take place in this world. How belonging to chuch and praying has never stopped half the world from starvation, and bombing eachother. How prayer has not saved us from the torture, poverty, and dependancey on other's approvel. (have you noticed how people dress up for church?) How we have been allowing slave labor to occur so the rich can get richer.
The major corporations are taking over all of our small companies, all of our jobs are being sent over seas to children picking cotton and sewing clothes 15 hours a day, with no chance of education or their own dream to come true, all at the expense of our cool clothes at a cheap price so we can afford this look and be accepted. And we are allowing this so we can have a chance to possibly become rich, and have what we want. We don't want to see how others are suffering. We want to only think positve thoughts, so we can stay in our happy bubble, and have our own success, and things, and be beautiful, and famous, and rich, and have vacations, and fancy cars, all the while half of the world doesn't even have clean water to drink or food to eat.
I could not participate in this fake reality of being noticed, beautiful, cool, and having what I want while allowing so many people to suffer. What kind of love is that? I have prayed extensively, for God to save those who are suffering, but nothing happened. I wanted to believe there was good reason for others to not even have a bite to eat while I get to chose dessert after my belly is full of delcious, healthy food. But I could not think of one. I wanted to believe that the suffering only have a better outlook on life because they appreciate even the chance to breath when I can't even appreciate my clothes because they are not "cool", or my hair because it is not long, blonde, and full, and my face without makeup to make me look sexy and beautiful.
I have realised the illusion I have been living in. I now see what I have been accepting and allowing in this sick, delusional world. I see how much I have tried to fit into the mold my society has placed on me, and how much it has blinded me from the starving, the poverty, the slaves, the slaughter, the bombing, the mutations of infants from radiation, all in the name of greed and vanity, as we have allowed money to be our god.
I step out of this society. I stop trying to fit in, to be noticed, to be beautiful, to be be stylish. I stop wearing makeup, and jewelry, these superficial things do not matter. I shave my head, I am no longer participating as a beautiful, acceptable woman in this society. This no longer is important to me. I stand as a human, equal to the slaves, to the poor, the starving, to all life on earth. I stand as life, for life, because society does not care for life, I am no longer a woman of society.

Difficulty in writing

Why is it so hard to write? I really need to write, I know that, deep down in my bones! It is driving me nuts, I feel like I just can't find the time to sit, uninterupted and write. I am afraid that I'll get angry with interuptions, and I don't even start to write because of that fear. So I have been allowing fear to control me. Fear of frustration. I am with children from the time I wake till sometimes after I try to go to sleep. Whenever they interupt me, I get upset. As much as I try to teach them about mom's quiet time, they seem to always have something come up, some reason to disrupt me. So I lose my train of thought, and either have to get up and take care of a boy who's fallen in the pond, save a creature one of the cats brought in, or clean up chocolate milk out of the carpet! Lets not forget diapers and potty training! So I know what I need to do to find myself, but I don't know how to find the time. Well, the uninterrupted time. Sooooo I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to get angry with the children when they interrupt my train of thought. I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to be controlled by fear of getting angry. i must try to write no matter what, and not let fear of frustration dictate what I do.

The need to be "liked"

I am beginning to realize the importance of the Like button on facebook. The more likes you have, the more popular you are. Our world has come to people judging eachother's statements, links, and photos with the very simple press of a button. In a second you either like, or you are uninterested.
 I find myself dependent on this like button, and am judging myself by the amount of likes on my posts. Because of this, I have been liking a lot of friends statements more easily, in order to show my respect and appreciation, and to make loved ones feel important.
 I do not feel like I am liked very much, and I am allowing this to get to me. Am I not communicating clearly enough, or is what I am saying really of no interest? What is worse is when people actually complain about my posts, or posts that are generally similar to mine. Is what I am saying really that aggrevating? If so, than why are they reading them? We do have the option to hide the posts.
 The need to respect one's beliefs has been a topic that has stirred up a lot of controversy lately. Respecting a person is completely different than respecting their belief. And what does it mean to respect a belief? Does it mean you must not challenge that belief for fear of damaging the other's ego, because they are so attached to their belief that they do not even know who they are without it?
 So I am left with either posting meaningless stuff about football, or fashion, or I can get the rundown from people who don't like what I have to really say. This "walking on eggshells" feeling is not necessary if people would take responsibility for their own emotions.
 I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to be dependent on how many likes i get. I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to become aggrevated with people who blame their emotion on others. I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to blame my own emotions on the actions of others.

The Reclusive Shopper

The reclusive shopper is one who feels the need to get out, yet only recludes real actual self. Everyone who shops for more than a basic need is a reclusive shopper. The shopper joins the "contest" of beauty, and fashion. Or the "contest" of who has the best of anything. I am not the shopper, it is my ego who needs to shop. I get bored and allow an ego personality to come out. My ego personality is a "person" who wants to find the perfect clothes, shoes, or makeup. It is "person" who is trying to find a quick fix, a boost to one's "self", but is actually not boosting self , but ego. A "person" who fears not being accepted, and needs to dress self up in a way to find acceptance, and even catch attention to oneself for being fashionable.The ego needs to find clothes that hides it's "flaws" while enhancing it's "best features". It is about being more....more beautiful, more sexy, more stylish, more  interesting than others. It is a competition among other egos. When I allow my ego to make my decisions, I am only suppresing me. By creating a false me, I suppress the real me. A me that has been suppressed for years.
 Like all of us, I had issues with my childhood. I am a petite person, and was made fun of as a child. The other children treated me like I was much younger than I was. I often was called "baby", "tiny tot", "little bit" to name just a few. I was often ignored when I tried to have a conversation with other kids my age. No on wanted to be un-cool, being friends with someone who looked so much younger than them.Being much smaller than most, I couldn't fit in fashionable clothes, so I had a choice to either wear extra baggy clothes that were considered stylish, or "baby" clothes that fit me. That wasn't so cool.
 To further the insult to my ego, I was cheated on by my 1st "lover". That only drove me to try harder to gain acceptance. I now had another reason to worry about my appearance, to keep the attention of my lover. I find myself using this "excuse" today.
 I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to feal the need to look beautiful and fashionable in order to feel accepted, to look better than others, and to keep the interest of my partner. I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to be part of the competition. It is competition that seperates. It smothers equality and it smothers who I really am.