First of all, thank you for being so patient with me. I spent a lot of time researching how to make my blog better but honestly it just made my blog suffer and I lost who I was as a writer. Losing who you are…well that’s not fun. At all. All I wanted to do was make posts that people wanted to read, trying to figure out what my “target audience” wanted. I love you guys and all, but that’s not why I started this. I started my blog to help me find an outlet to navigate my insane life. When I saw it was helping others then I found my true calling. So I studied and I research and did everything I could to write about what you wanted to read. It wasn’t until I was so clouded with other people’s idea’s that I finally realized I couldn’t see through the mirrors and smoke anymore. Changing my blog and what I stood for just so others would accept me…wrong idea girl friend.
Changing Who I Was
We’ve all had this problem, wanting to change who we are to make people like us. Even just to make one single person like us. In grade school, I had a best friend, who I followed everything they did and said. At least, I thought she was my best friend, we were attached by the hip. It wasn’t until I got to high school that I realized she took from me who I was and molded me into who she wanted me to be. Even now I have a memory engraved in my brain that I will never forget… while walking at the pool, I was maybe 13 or 14 years old, she stopped me and told me not to walk so fast because it made my hips jiggle. Like really Bitch, I didn’t even know I had love handles at 13! But because of that specific conversation, I would now always be aware of the jiggle in my walk my whole life.
It might seem silly to you since that happened over ten years ago but every time I’m in a bathing suit, it never fails that I can hear those words echoing in my head.
Once I got to high school I thought I was over trying to make myself different just to fit in, but that was, of course, not the case. It just got worse. Maybe I became who I was and maybe I lost some of it on the way. I would do whatever it took to be accepted. I got louder, bubblier, more outgoing. Doesn’t seem all to bad, does it? It was never enough in my head, I was being judged. I wasn’t the popular girl but I wasn’t the girl in the corner either. I transformed who I was into who I thought they wanted me to be. The life of the party, the one that makes everyone laugh, the center of attention. But is that who I was meant to be? It started to drain me. When I didn’t want to smile, when I wanted to stay home and cry, I wouldn’t let myself. I couldn’t let them see me weak. I shoved my feet into the white vans that I laced so tightly around my feet even though they took the skin right off my heels. I straightened my curly locks every morning before I walked into the halls because that’s how I was supposed to look. I stared in the mirror each morning painting on makeup covering what my parents called natural beauty but what society considered flaws. No matter the name brands I wore on my back, the money my parents threw at my hair to make it look just right… I knew people still talked about me. I knew I was being judged constantly. Maybe they thought I didn’t know or couldn’t hear them. But I kept trying and trying reaching for the acceptance that was always just finger tips out of reach.
Changing Who We Are
All of you are probably thinking, “Well Lauren, that was high school and we’ve all been through it.”
Maybe you were the girl huddled in the corner peering over her library book completely jealous as the rich blonde cheerleader and the football players huddled together at the lunch table, wishing you were one of them. Look closer, behind the long blonde locks, the small dainty body, and the perfectly painted makeup there is a girl who goes home every night sobbing. She stares at herself in the mirror hating every ounce of her body, running to the bathroom throwing up her meals at every chance she gets. If only girls knew what the other was going through maybe life would be different.
Maybe the girl that stayed home from all the football games wouldn’t contemplate daily if anyone would really miss her. Just maybe the boy on the wrestling team would feel safe to say girls just weren’t his cup of tea. But that’s not the world we live in is it? We all need acceptance to get from one day to the other. The cheerleader needs her football player because that’s the status quo, the CEO needs his bank account full because his father said painting was just a hobby and not a future, and the kid on the other side of the tracks never tried in school because society told him he would never go anywhere in life.
Everyone is scared to be their true selves at least once in their lives, possibly their whole lives.
This blog was made as a place to show you my struggles, my mental journey to finding self love, mental strength, and going through the process of accepting who I am. But just like other places in my life, I let society strip my idea’s. The fear of being accepted, being popular still follow me over 10 years later. I wanted to be liked, I wanted you to read my blog so bad I changed my posts, my idea’s, just to make sure you were reading what you wanted to read, or what the internet sites were telling me you wanted. Instead of just writing what I wanted to write.
My blog about living with bipolar was and is still my most popular blog to date. It seems stupid now but I was trying to figure out for the longest time why it was so popular. Honestly, it wasn’t until I realized I had lost myself that I found myself. Maybe my bipolar blog was popular because I let you in. I wrote that post with tears streaming down my face, scared shitless of what the world might think. Finally being honest about the pain I felt every day and the struggles on having to live a normal happy life. I had such a positive response within minutes. My phone blowing up with text after text from friends and loved ones. Comments were being posted, one after another after another.
Now for me it wasn’t about the number of people who read it or how popular it became…it was for those messages I got saying thank you for shining a light on things people silently go through. I couldn’t believe it. I walked up to Hubby as I cried reading him all the messages. I cried for the pain everyone suffered with silently. I cried reading the names of the people that reached out to me who lived with the same illness, people I never could’ve imagined. I cried because these amazing people, some people I looked up too, some people I haven’t heard from in years, and others who obviously hide it so well, texting and messaging me words of thanks. You mean, people were thanking me for just…being me? That was a huge eye opener in my life. Let me tell you again and breathe in these words. I was THANKED for being ME.
Just BE YOU
That’s such an overlooked concept in this world. When we become ourselves, when we let the world see what’s in our hearts without fear of judgment or ridicule, great things can happen. You may be able to reach out to someone who needed it the more than you know.
We shouldn’t need to live in a world where we don’t feel safe being who we are. Maybe I’m thinking with my head in the clouds, being some what unrealistic. People are judged everyday and I’m not completely innocent in doing so either. But I am now definitely more aware.
I will always have my hips that jiggle when I walk, I will always have my stretch marks down the sides of my body from carrying my beautiful baby boy for 9 months. I will treasure my insecurities, I will feel blessed because of my mental illness. These things make me who I am. I don’t need to write about “how to achieve self love” when I am still struggling with that everyday. I don’t need to “monetize” my blog to make money. I am going to write with my heart, speak to you from my soul.
Who are you? Who are you pretending to be to appease others? If you aren’t pretending to be anyone other then yourself, that’s amazing! It’s people like you that need to help people like 13 year old Lauren, 18 year old Lauren, and maybe 26 year old Lauren, to remind them who they are. I hope to raise Smudge with an open mind and to give him an environment where he can grow into whatever his heart desires. He might go to school and be given a hell of a time for what he loves to do or it could be the opposite and he will be celebrated. If he is judged, I hope that he will take strength from it. If he is celebrated, I hope he doesn’t forget the girl in the corner.
I am back, Lovely. Better, stronger, and more clear minded then ever. I have a lot to tell you over the next few weeks.
See you then,