T-Bex the Mighty

I've had this in my head for a while, and I've been hesitant to talk about it.  Like most things I spew onto the webpages of this here blog, it's deeply personal and rather uncomfortable to talk about.  But, also much like most of the things on this blog, I see no reason to fear the discomfort. What I am is afraid of hurting people's feelings. I've always been afraid of that.  It is my biggest fear. Because of that I have spent a good part of my life being a people pleaser. That said, I think people pleasers are sad, miserable people who will never meet their true potential because they hold themselves back. I think most of us can sort of agree with that, right?  Whether it be failure or speaking in front of a crowd, our fears hold us back.  People pleasing is just the fear of hurting other people's feelings or disappointing an imaginary ideal we believe other people  have of us. I've noticed lately, which is one of the reasons I want to write thi...

Howdy there, just me.  It's ramble time. I got sick a few weeks ago.  It started out as a flu/cold like thing with a lot of congestion and traveled to the digestive system.  It was mainly awful.  I was out of work for a few days, and I have to be really  sick to stay home from work. I'm mostly better now, my body is still healing a little but its doing ok.  Something happens though, almost every time I'm sick, that I'm going to be recovering from for a while yet: I relapse. Yup, every time. I get sick, and then suddenly without even realizing its happened, I come to the realization that I've been skipping meals and eating portions too small for toddlers. I think a big part of it, for me, is that for me to be comfortable eating, eating has to be comfortable, enjoyable even.  If I can't taste the food (like when my sinuses were a mess), what's the point of wasting my precious time eating it?  Then my stomach was a mess, and lord help me, t...

I like my simple life. It's calm. Afternoons spent sitting. Watching cats play. Listening to the man next to me wording. Drinking margaritas. Watching the sky be the sky. Listening to music I've never heard before. Planning adventures only I can imagine. Being who I am. Living here, now. Footloose. Loving all the parts of everything. Seriously. Loving them. Barefoot. Sleeveless. BRALESS!!! Proud of where I have been, because I'm not there anymore. A future pregnant with hope. Hope, hope, futile hope. Happy hope. Daydream hope. You know what I mean. Hash tag simple life. Hash tag hope.

I'm sure I appear to be a very public person.  I am unashamed of my personal downfalls and will gladly post it all over the internet for the universe to see.  I'll tell anyone about my mood on any given day, and no one will deny that I will tell you exactly what I think about any situation. In reality though, I'm a surprisingly private person.  Through my life I have found that my raw, unfiltered emotions tend to overwhelm people, and they become uneasy around me.  For some things, I enjoy making people uneasy.  To me, it makes them examine their own lives and perspectives on things.  If you read things I say though, I tend to have a clinical, removed way of speaking about things.  I don't allow my emotions to cloud the words I say.  This means that I leave a lot unsaid.  Which is ok, honestly.  I'm quite capable of caring for myself, especially when it comes to my emotional health. If you saw me right now, you wouldn't recognize me....

I'm guessing most of the people who read this follow me on facebook, but for anyone who doesn't I recently posted this: "Can we talk about how much I like myself? I find it to be almost troublesome in this world, because it seems like there's so many people all around telling me not to. "Party girls get fat," "I wish I didn't have thunder thighs," "I don't eat carbs," "you're not good enough until you give it 110%!" Are things we all see, hear, and tell each other constantly. I'm fucking sick of it. Guess what self-haters and judgers-of-others, I genuinely like myself. From my party girl beer gut to my messy house. I'm awesome. Deal with it. (and maybe leave room in your own life to just exist in a place of happiness. Just sayin.)" It was received well, as most confident things are.  However, there's so much more to it than just me being pissed off that society has a penchant for holding confident...

So, if you've ever read this blog, you get that I have one or two mental illnesses.  I don't try to hide it, even though it feels shameful sometimes.  More accurately, it always feels shameful.  Its something as a society we try to hide from one another, and when its brought into the open its uncomfortable for just about everyone involved. I don't like that mindset, so I tend to be obnoxiously open about it.  I don't hide it and I don't pretend it isn't real, even when I want to.  Its difficult sometimes, and it makes for awkward social interactions on a pretty regular basis.  The shameful stigma surrounding mental health is a problem though, one I combat whenever I can.  So this means that I tell people things like, "I'm in a state of depression and its really difficult for me.  I'm dealing with it, but its not easy.  Please be patient with me."  Or even, "I've been behaving poorly lately and I know it.  I want to apologize and e...

If you follow me on Pintrest, you can pretty much tell when I'm having a rough day.  My feed gets clogged with photos of beautiful fat women and inspirational quotes about body love. I don't do this because I'm sitting at home thinking to myself, "Wow!  I'm sooooooooooo in love with my body today!  I need to share it with THE WORLD!!!" No. What is happening inside my head closely resembles this: I am not good enough.  I will never be good enough.  I've gained weight.  I'm a failure.  I'm getting fat.  I better check my BMI (again) to make sure its still ok.  I'd better do body fat calculator too, just to be safe.  I can't believe I didn't go to the gym at all last week; I know I was sick and could barely function doing daily tasks (like waking up for work, staying awake at work, staying awake in the car during the commute between work and home, etc) but that one week of skipped gym IS GOING TO MAKE ME FAT.  Omg.  My stoma...