02.04.13

Monday Dare: That’s mine, motherfucker

therightman

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. Click on the link to see the complete list of Monday Dares or to learn more about its origin.

This week: Own it

This occurred to me very recently: I have the power to make my life easy or difficult.

It seems like such a simple thing. If something can be distilled down into just a few words, it has to be easy, yes?

Yes. I mean, sort of. Only “sort of” because now, to do this supposedly simple thing, I have to go around collecting my power from the people I’ve been giving it to since…forever.

There’s not much left in my own reserve. So little, in fact, that I’m reminded of all the times I’ve been too lazy to turn the near-empty bottle of hair conditioner upside-down before I step out of the shower. Then, of course, the next time I’m washing up, I have neither the time nor the patience to flip the bottle on its head and wait while the remainder pools near the opening. I open the lid, swish a little water around, and pour the watered-down contents onto my head.

“Fuck it. This diluted shit is good enough,” I tell myself.

The diluted shit has always been good enough for me.

I’ve been giving away my power for so long, to so many people who didn’t even really deserve it in the first place, that I’ve had to make do with the dregs of what’s left for most of my adult life. 

It is only now that I understand what a profound impact this has had on my development and my happiness. My broken memories are populated by broken people with either too much power or not enough power.

Almost every time I venture out of the house lately, I bump into someone I so willingly handed my power to back in the day. I am reminded of the things they used to say to me. I am reminded of how I stayed silent during all of it.

Your ass is too flat. You have a little girl’s body. I don’t like it when your hair is up. I don’t like it when your hair is down. You swear too much. You’re not friendly enough. Your laugh is too loud. You laugh too much. You talk too much. You’re not really the kind of girl I can bring home to my parents. You dress like a sa mo neem (pastor’s wife). You dress like a hooker. You’re not very smart. You’re too smart. Your cooking tastes like shit. You’re a piece of shit. You’re a whore. You’re a waste of time. 

FUCK YOU. I’M AWESOME. That flat ass? Mine, motherfucker. I own it. I love it. That laugh? Mine. I love it. My clothes? That’s my style, fucker. I love it.

tupaclove

“There is a crack in everything. That is how the light gets in.” -Leonard Cohen.

As I become brave enough to OWN ME, and as I allow my cracks to grow longer and wider, the light grows brighter, highlighting all of my dark secrets and ugly imperfections.

All things, even ugly things, take on radiance in the light.
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That Tupac shirt? I “borrowed” it from my kid. More pictures on Instagram (username: flourishinprogress). And I’ll be announcing some exciting news on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page this week. Let’s get connected.

WINNERS of last week’s Wallflower giveaway: 1. M (you have the word “fair” in your email address), 2. Kristyn (“80″ in your email), 3. Amy (“79″ in your email), 4. Corin (“cb” are the first two letters in your email). Please drop me a line at flourishinprogress at gmail dot com with your address.

February 4, 2013
10.22.12

Monday Dare: Payback’s a bitch

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. Click on the link to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Speak out

I once gave away my last ounce of dignity and pride while begging on my knees to save a poorly-assembled IKEA lamp, a pink Starbucks mug, and two cushions. The cushions had, at one time, belonged to a couch marked for the donations truck by a rich-as-fuck family because it was the wrong color. I didn’t have enough space for the couch, but I asked for the cushions because, well, they were from Pottery Barn, and I love fancy shit.

I spent most of my teens and twenties giving my power away to people who didn’t deserve it. Not that anyone ever really deserves your power. Sure, a small circle of people may deserve your loyalty or attention or assistance or companionship or love or friendship, but power is a tricky beast to own and tame, and it’s not something that should be given away freely, if at all.

The more I gave away my power, the less control I had over my life. And the less control I had over my life, the harder it became.

And because I gave away so much of my power, I guess it was no surprise that I ended up on my knees one night begging my boyfriend not to destroy the few things I had in the dingy fuckhole I called “home.” I loved those things because they were mine. They weren’t pretty, and they certainly weren’t valuable, but they brought me immense pleasure.

Getting on my knees wasn’t my idea. It was his. I didn’t invite him along when a girlfriend came over for coffee, and he was angry. He had already taken all the power from my insides, and now, he wanted an outward display of what my broken emptiness looked like.

I did it. I begged. I cried. I asked for forgiveness. I could hear some small part of the Me that still remained hissing quietly in my head, “Ain’t no motherfucka your king, bitch. This is some BULLSHIT,” but my sobs were louder. It’s often the loudest voices that get their way, even if those voices are wrong.

He isolated me from the people I loved the most. Even when we weren’t together, he told me that every one of my moves could be tracked. He reminded me often that he could listen in on any of my phone calls, that he had a tracking device installed on my car, and that each of my keystrokes was being logged. For years I saved a threatening voice message he left on my home answering machine. In case I just didn’t show up for something one day.

I spent most of my free time watching Snapped. If you’ve never watched it, I can break it down for you in one sentence: It’s a show about angry women who kill (mostly) men. I don’t watch that show anymore. It makes me uneasy, and it’s only now that I understand why I needed it so much. I didn’t have the balls to break out of the tiny prison of my own life, so I watched these women do the things I fantasized about doing. Not that I advocate murder. Really, don’t kill people, you guys.

I sent my five-year-old daughter away and made up some excuse about a better school district. I’ve never really talked about that before, but there it is. He wouldn’t let me leave. He said if I did, he would kill my mother, and then my daughter. So I stayed, but I sent her to live with my brother across the country.

I spent so many years cowering in fear of you coming after me. You told me never to tell anyone about what you did. But I don’t keep the promises I make to evil people like you. I will never be like you. 
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NEVER give away your power, friends. And never keep the secrets of those that betray you. Speak out.
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Connect: Facebook & Twitter (@ElizabethJLiu) & Instagram (username: flourishinprogress)

image via pinterest

October 22, 2012
08.20.12

Monday Dare: It’s always your favorite sins that do you in

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. Click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Real talk

I’m turning 32 next week. My guardian peoples must be motherfucking tired from keeping me alive this long. Right after the realization that another birthday is fast approaching, it also occurred to me that I still know nothing. Well, not totally nothing. I discovered today that a Twinkie is still good three months after the expiration date. Maybe it’s too soon to make that claim. I don’t have stomach pains or anything, but you should probably just check back next week to see if I post another Monday Dare. Sorry, guardian peoples, please do your job again.

You’ve been so patient with me for these past two years as I’ve attempted to become a less underdeveloped person. If I’m being honest, I would have a hard time not cracking the fuck up after watching someone fail so many times. How do you guys do it? Is it sedatives? If yes, what kind?

And I’ll be the first to admit that I give some asinine shitty advice on a weekly basis. But I’d like to think that it’s part of my charm. I tell you something I think is totally correct, and then you quietly do the exact opposite because you totally know better than to heed anything that comes out of my salty mouth, and BOOM! Everyone’s still safe.

But I want to put the bullshit aside this week and share with you some of the truths I’ve learned. And I hope you’ll share some of the things you’ve learned.

Know when to stop. 

I have a sick habit of always needing the last word. I need to feel like everything ended on my terms or else I don’t feel satisfied. But this much I’ve learned: There are times when I just need to walk away. It may not feel like a victory at the time, but the angst I save myself, not to mention the dignity that I’m able to salvage, makes walking away worth it.

Know when to stay.

I’ve been open with you about all the twisted WTF-esque relationships I’ve had over the years. What I don’t mention as often are the incredible people who have been kind and patient. The people who loved me even when I didn’t love myself. And because I didn’t know then what I know now, I left those good people, seeking more, seeking better. Often, when I realized the error of my ways, I would go back, beg for forgiveness, and try to recreate what we once shared. It never worked. More often than not, that person had already found someone else who saw the value that I didn’t bother to see. I was too busy collecting worthless stones to see the gem I had in front of me.

Be kind to others.

I grew up surrounded by a lot of drama. And because that drama made me feel uneasy and unsure and unstable, I never trusted anyone, and I was reluctant to believe anything that anyone ever told me. It became a habit to pull away from people who meant so much to me, hoping they would chase after me. I needed constant reassurance that I was loved and lovable. Then, I came to the realization that being hot and cold is cruel. It is a daily effort for me to be kind to the people I love. I am not successful sometimes, but I remind myself that people can be good and that good things don’t always have to turn bad. 

Be kind to myself. 

I still hate myself a lot of the time. This isn’t something I like to admit out loud very often. I have probably only uttered those words twice in the past decade. It’s hard to admit something like that. And because I don’t really like myself, I don’t think I deserve anything wonderful in my life. Then, I subconsciously do my best to destroy all the blessings that life has been kind enough to grant. I deserve goodness. 

I still don’t know a lot. Maybe I never will. But these small truths are things I have picked up as I’ve passed one birthday after another. I feel brave enough to be so honest with you today because I spent a lot of time doing bullshit last night, and I haven’t slept in nearly 30 hours. I’m just running on the fumes from that totally-still-good-to-eat Twinkie and a delicious extra-caramel latte from Peet’s.

I hope you’ll share some of the things you’ve learned along the way.

With love, Elizabeth

P.S. Let’s get connected on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page and Twitter. I love the interaction I have with y’all during the week. Yes, I post funny pictures and thug life thoughts and other original content not seen on this blog, but honestly, y’all are some funny motherfuckers and your hilariousness (Is that a word? Let’s pretend it is.) keeps me going. Thanks, bitches.
image via pinterest

August 20, 2012