"Cause all of me
Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I’ll give my all to you
You’re my end and my beginning
Even when I lose I’m winning
‘Cause I give you all of me
And you give me all of you
How many times do I have to tell you
Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too
The world is beating you down, I’m around through every mood…”
I would like to dedicate this (portion of this) song, All Of Me, by John Legend, to a very special person. This person has been with me through everything in my life, through all the ups and downs, every crazy, stressful thing and every overwhelmingly joyous thing. This person has wanted to give up, to break down and just let life trample all over her, but instead she keeps getting up, dusting herself off and pushing on. She has been through trauma and heartbreak, and loves her family (blood or not) fiercely. This very special person is…
Yes, I dedicate this song to myself. Because as incredibly difficult as it is, I fully believe that it is important to recognize your own worth, beauty, and strength, and to allow yourself permission to love yourself through every “perfect imperfection”.
I put this song on my iPod and as it played, I looked in the bathroom mirror. Gazed into my own eyes. And then I sang along, staring into my own soul as I did so.
It was hard. It was raw. It felt silly and false at first, but it didn’t take long to move to a very powerful and emotional place after that. Tears started streaming down my face. Now I will be the first one to admit that I am NOT a pretty crier. Any time I cry it’s an ugly cry. My face turns red and splotchy, my eyes go bloodshot immediately, and my lips turn purple. But just as I was noticing that, the line “Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too” played and I laughed as I sang it. It was perfect.
We as humans (I can speak from my life experience as a woman, but I know men do this too) tend to compare ourselves to others in every aspect possible. Not just the obvious, overt things like seeing someone thinner than you and bitterly wishing you looked like that, or saying they need to eat a cheeseburger. Not just that pang in our guts as we see a fancy, shiny car parked next to our old beater in the parking lot. Not just looking at someone that just seems to have all the good luck when we feel like if it wasn’t for bad luck we’d have no luck at all.
When we scroll through our Facebook feed and see the pictures from paradise with our old friends living the good life, we bitterly wish we could be there instead of at work in our cubicle. And instead of being happy for the experiences those around us are having, we dwell in our jealousy for it, whether we want to or not. We’re human. It happens.
But it’s not our acquaintances’’ experiences, cars, bodies, jobs, families, lives, bank accounts, health, luck, or anything else that makes up our lives. It’s our OWN stuff. And instead of putting ourselves down for NOT having what other people have, we need to shift our focus to being grateful that we have what others don’t. When I’m feeling sorry for myself, I challenge myself to come up with a “big old BUT”. The big old BUT replaces the complaint and leaves a positive taste in our mouth, as it were. For instance:
- “I’m not rich… BUT! I have enough money to pay my bills.”
- “My job is boring… BUT! I have a job that is year round, full time with benefits in a seasonal tourist town.”
- “Our central heating is broken and we can’t afford to fix it… BUT! We have a home to put our space heaters in.”
So now instead of focusing on the fact that I’m not rich, my job is boring (this was only for demonstration, my job is not boring at all!), and my central heating unit is busted, I’m looking at the fact that I can pay my bills, even if my savings are (painfully) modest, I don’t have to worry about finding a job in the off-season, I have health insurance, and a home to live in.
Similarly, when it comes to our bodies, our health, our very lives, we often complain, complain, complain instead of focusing on the great things going on in the background. Maybe it’s just because I work at an Emergency Room, but I often counter and reframe my thinking to a place of gratitude for the health I DO have.
- “I am SO much heavier than I want to be… BUT! I have a soft tummy that my niece and nephew love to cuddle against, and my chest has been known to add some special comforting padding when I give healing hugs to those I love.”
Despite what my inner (very unkind, I must add) voice says (nags) to me about myself, I grew weary of all the bitterness, anger, and hatred… toward myself.
It’s bad enough that I experience that toward the world around me on various levels. That weakens and erodes my relationships with others, sometimes in an outright fashion and sometimes in a subtle one. But what do I have in my life if I don’t have a strong relationship with my SELF? I have nothing. I don’t want to have nothing. I want to have a strong foundation to live and enjoy my life. So I decided to do exactly that.
On one hand, it was (and still is, and likely will be for quite some time) very difficult. Years and years (decades, more like) of being broken down by those around me and breaking myself down too make climbing back up very difficult. But after a certain point, I just got to the point where I had enough. I recognized that if I didn’t love and support myself I couldn’t love and support others, which is an important part of my life.
Society makes it entirely too easy to hate ourselves. We are constantly barraged with mixed messages of the importance of accepting yourself as you are right next to the latest diet program.
I’m choosing the hard path. I’m choosing the path of loving and accepting myself. I’m choosing to support myself and build myself back up. I’m choosing to dedicate cheesy love songs to myself and serenade myself in the mirror. I’m choosing to love ME.
When you’re ready, I challenge you to try loving yourself, too. It’s a life-changer.
See that shirt? I <3 ME! I made that!
I need these in my life…and on my bed. LOL
i laughed so hard at the “i don’t know” and “something is wrong”
the twilight one is like abstract poetry
If you read it all together it’s like the most awkward, tense conversation ever.
"My name is Katniss Everdeen," I sighed. Nothing happened.
"I don’t know," he sighed.
Harry looked around, I shake my head and shrugged.
Harry stared. “I am seventeen years old.”
I frowned and he waited.
"My home is District 12."
Harry chuckled and said nothing. Now I wish I had.
I laughed. We looked at each other. I swallowed hard. He shrugged. Harry blinked and hesitates. I flinched.
He looked around. “I’m not really surprised.”
I took a deep breath, something he didn’t have last time. “Something is wrong.”
He didn’t answer. He stood up.
Well, that IS how I read it to begin with. :P All as one.
NO. NO. I AM TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD AND I AM CRYING BECAUSE I CAN STILL HEAR THE EXACT WAY SHADOW SAYS “PETER” AS HE COMES OUT OF THE FUCKING WOODS DON’T LOOK AT MEEEE
Thirty-one… I cannot watch this without sobbing.
I love the heart it forms
a transgender person has a child
they are now transparent
I almost thought there was gonna be something mean at the end of that. Nope. Just a pun
"So many of us choose our path out of fear disguised as practicality"
This is great advice, and a great inspiration.
After succumbing to a fever of some sort in 1705, Irish woman Margorie McCall was hastily buried to prevent the spread of whatever had done her in. Margorie was buried with a valuable ring, which her husband had been unable to remove due to swelling. This made her an even better target for body snatchers, who could cash in on both the corpse and the ring.
The evening after Margorie was buried, before the soil had even settled, the grave-robbers showed up and started digging. Unable to pry the ring off the finger, they decided to cut the finger off. As soon as blood was drawn, Margorie awoke from her coma, sat straight up and screamed.
The fate of the grave-robbers remains unknown. One story says the men dropped dead on the spot, while another claims they fled and never returned to their chosen profession.
Margorie climbed out of the hole and made her way back to her home.
Her husband John, a doctor, was at home with the children when he heard a knock at the door. He told the children, “If your mother were still alive, I’d swear that was her knock.”
When he opened the door to find his wife standing there, dressed in her burial clothes, blood dripping from her finger but very much alive, he dropped dead to the floor. He was buried in the plot Margorie had vacated.
Margorie went on to re-marry and have several children. When she did finally die, she was returned to Shankill Cemetery in Lurgan, Ireland, where her gravestone still stands. It bears the inscription “Lived Once, Buried Twice.”
what did i just read
Irish women are strong as fuck
I’m Irish and I can conclude that we are motherfucking metal
I was not expecting that!
I don’t think anyone was expecting that!
IT GOT BETTER
This is now officially my most favorite thing on the internet
im crying in class b/c of this
Japan’s Nabana no Sato Botanical Garden used over 7,000,000 LED lights to create this amazing tribute to nature featuring displays of rainbows, auroras, and Mt. Fuji.