LOVE THIS!! Check this woman she is awesome. She also lifts shit with her vagina.
Instagram – Kimanami
The biggest sign of being a well-f**ked woman? ⠀
Not giving a shit. ⠀
She “dances like no one is watching” and she has fully “come into” herself.⠀
She doesn’t give a shit what you or anyone else thinks about her clothes or her life choices or her sexual activities.⠀
Does it make her heart soar and her vagina wet?⠀
That’s all that matters.⠀
She’s impervious to all else.⠀
Her well-f**ked glow is like a force field around her.⠀
It protects and attracts.⠀⠀
What was I doing this time twenty four years ago. One week after my 18th birthday and two days prior to the wedding. Oh yeah… good times.
I believe the saying that things keep coming up until you learn the lesson. Great let’s deal with “this”. I want to learn my lesson NOW so that “this” stops coming back. Whenever I encounter “this” I force myself to stay in the situation. I don’t want to avoid it but to face it head on. Sounds noble but honestly withdrawing causes “that” to come up. So it’s “this” or “that”.
What if the lesson I am supposed to learn isn’t how to make “this” go away or “that” for that matter. What if the lesson is that “this” and “that” is how I am and I need to learn coping skills. I need to give myself permission to be me even when I don’t like it and give myself some grace.
I wrote a post about struggling earlier in the week and I am thankful for those that responded with encouragement. It is touching. Of course there is that part of me that gets a little defensive. I don’t want anyone to think that because I post about the difficulties that I struggle all of the time. It’s quite the opposite. I am happy a lot. I have a Daddy I adore that treats me like his princess. The progress in our relationship over the last two and half years is nothing short of amazing.
I share because not everyone is the same but sometimes it seems like you are the only one that is different. It helps to find that someone struggles with the same issue you do. I believe if you use the right search terms and google till your bleary eyed you will find someone out there that you can relate to.
I’m thinking of writing about what I was struggling with this last week but part of me hesitates. It puts me in a vulnerable position and I do not want pity. I also don’t want to be dismissed as someone that doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.
*pardon the analogy – I had to 😉
I have let outside forces eclipse my joy of us. My overwhelming comparisons have darkened my heart and caused me to judge him unfairly. It is a recurring theme and I am frustrated with myself. I am tempted to put on those glasses that see only him but not being able to view the rest of the world is isolating.
I’ve been tempted to lay it at his feet. Subtle and definitely not so conversations have been going on in my head. An outline written on paper for a discussion. Good judgement prevented me from asking for that yesterday. I have asked myself what changes am I requesting, specifically. I have been unable to define that. How can I expect him to give what I cannot request.
Ultimately I know this is me and my work. He can not fix me and I will not do further harm by unloading my unreasonable and negative judgements, in the hopes that he will.
Last night before bed I sent him an email thanking him for the ways in which he handled situations this weekend. He said it was helpful and it made him smile.
I will continue on with positive not negative. I will figure out precisely what I want and bring those topics up for discussion.
I am responsible for my submission.
When we started dating I was still in high school with an evening job and Daddy worked day hours. On nights I was working he would get off work and then park in the lot at my job and wait for me to go on break. He would wait well over an hour to see me for fifteen minutes. You bet your ass I didn’t let this one get away.
One evening I did not want to tear myself away from him and I said I wished that we could just take off. He said let’s do it and so we did. I got in my car and we raced out of the parking lot and met in a nearby park to figure out what next. We spent the evening hanging out and I never went back to that job. It was stupid and irresponsible. What I regret most is that I left my favorite pen in my smock pocket. It was pink and white. Clicker type and it wrote so smoothly. It’s been almost twenty five years but I have not forgotten you. #penlove
* Not the actual pen. Regretfully I have no photos of it. -photo from google