Silence

As published on Honelife.com 

On a foggy Sunday afternoon I sat at my kitchen table with a cup of Early Grey looking out the window at the sea of evergreens in front of me. 

It made sense when it ended. Slow as the day started, quick as the finish came. They said having a warm body in your bed is a cold battle and your sheets are never the same. I still feel those hands etched around my waist and your warm breath on the back of my neck. It's a miracle how I fell out of reality in to a dream world. 

You came in to my life like a back door curve ball and I wasn't ready to swing away. A long time ago I was loving the one who was changing me in to someone I didn't know. I was falling asleep alone at night inside a body that didn't exist. I've never been someone's one and only. Not even my own. I'm the second favorite sweater you will wear because you got a stain on your go-to. I'm the other mascara tube you will use because the first one ran out. I don't know how to be the only thing you need to have. So I play safe and shuffle myself in with the other cards hoping, just hoping I'll be the ace you pick out and don't put back.

And isn't it crazy to think you wanted to keep me all to yourself on a Summer evening after looking in my eyes for the first time. You saw me hiding undercover, you unveiled me when I had wrapped myself in layers, you spoke to me with a genuine curiosity of knowing everything there was to know about my naked soul. And when I pushed and pushed and pushed you away, you came back. You sought the girl who denied you entry, broke your heart and told you you weren't enough. You loved the girl who loved somebody else and you saved the girl who broke down and walked home in the pouring rain.

I kept you safe in my back pocket like a treasure from my childhood. I locked you away in a memory as a selfish keepsake and I realized my love for you when you spent your last bit of energy on what drove you to exhaustion. I pray I'm not too late for your love to find me again. Because the way you look at me when I laugh is what they talk about in the movies. The way you speak softly and touch gently as if you were terrified to break something so delicate. The way you keep promises and send roses to my doorstep. The way you fought and continued to fight for a dimming light, a failing potential. The way you stood by my side with no questions. It was the only way I ever knew. 

The fog has bit and the dust has settled and my cracked heart is in the palms of my hands begging for you to heal it. I see a future with you in it and I'm scared to tell you the wrong thing that will make you change your mind because I know I was wrong and I know I changed mine. How easy it was to not say what I was scared to admit, but my heart speaks louder and it's beating out the words I don't know how to tell you. 

You flew away with my heart in your hands and left me the outline of your lips etched on my forehead. The chapter ended, but the passion still roared. Tucked away in a box marked, 'Until next time, my love.' 

On that still, foggy Sunday afternoon in it's purest and most distinct form, I remembered what closure felt like. 

Silence mixed with burning, blazing fire.

I Am From

After asking  a million times if I was adopted, I was shown the video of my birth at age 10. In utter repulse and denial, I convinced myself I was a run away Princess from the land of Narnia. Till this day, that still sounds more appealing and whimsical than my newborn shrieks on a video-tape. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

I am from great open windows 

from pink chiffon and crystal chandeliers.

I am from the gleam and clean

The palace of silence layered with chaos.

I am from the budding purple orchid

The banana tree whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own.

I'm from the chosen token Christmas ornament and glass of white wine

From big brother and baby niece.

I'm from nail biting, reality t.v. and from plentiful meals.

I'm from protection of witches and things, shrieks like Sara from Land before time and "practice makes perfect."

I'm from camping in R.V parks

I'm from Surrey and Canadian

I'm from meat and potatoes.

From convincing daddy to bring a puppy home while mommy was at work,

A collection of rocks, pogs and sports equipment,

Trophies on the walls, in the garage and in the hallways,

A life of pride, joy, and a love rich in royalty.

affirmations and adaptations

daily truth bomb #68

you can be deeply certain, 

and slightly doubtful. you can be scared,

and really, really, ready.

-Danielle Laporte

Two weeks ago, I spent hours trying to justify myself through awkward sips of a 6 ounce splash of white. 

You don't get me. You don't appreciate me. You can't understand me.

Questioning and consulting, rationalizing and deciding. 

I've felt this before and it never comes out right. 

There are so many people who I have grown up from. From choice to chance. You move, you adapt, you receive beautiful new opportunities and your promises of being attached at the hip for eternity burst at the seams. It's a terrifying ordeal to realize that nothing is as predictable as it occurs. 

Pinky promises, bff bonds and preteen proposals get broken.

And when you go from constant to non existent, you eventually learn how to re-adapt. You don't change fully, but you are what you do and who you do it with.

So while I found myself amongst a circle of great friendships, great teammates and an opportunity of a lifetime, my struggle came from knowing who I wanted to be, but being in the wrong space to show it. 

I had everything I should have wanted.

But my strengths were never brought out to their fullest potential because my surroundings were set to deteriorate them. 

I hated where I was and I was too scared to admit it.

My strong commitment to myself to have a creative, loving and careful soul were strewn in bits and pieces during a period of my youth where fear, guilt and loneliness were present the most. I was intimidated to be who I felt I was. It took a lot of brutal soul searching to look myself in the mirror and not see a failure looking back at it. It took honest time and full patience to be okay with myself in my commitment to everything that I stood for. There was a lot I learned from seeing pain in others and guilt in myself, that took me to the level of appreciating trials and scary surroundings. 

I only ever used my guts when I thought I didn't have them anymore.

So when I threw my junk on the back-burner  my stomach churned and my head and heart said keep moving. 

People are not meant to meet us halfway. We experience our separate journeys for all the right reasons. We exist because we give our spirits life. And we find out what we can call ourselves at the end of the day, through our own filters.

My uncomfortable feeling that occurs when my loved ones question my actions, thoughts and gestures has nothing to do with them. But rather with me. Am I confident in this space I am existing in? Am I whole and complete in my heart? Am I understanding this persons opinion through their lens, or my own?

And after all, If God is for me, who can be against me?

Realer than the realest deal

I am inspired today for reasons that scare me.

Reasons that motivate me and reasons that make me feel powerless.

I am inspired by my vulnerability, emotions and thoughts that I have no control over,
even though it terrifies me to think so.

This month has been a cookie jar full of difficult conversations. Some that I have had, some that I have listened too, but majority in what I've heard about me.

I have been told what I look like when I'm angry, what I act like when I’m sad and why my life has shaped and altered me to who I am being today.

It’s all brutal, it’s all honest and it’s all way, way too real.

The unspoken truth is that vulnerability promotes shame, guilt, and fear. In the moments where I feel great and worthy, I question my qualities. I let a doubtful comment change my piece of mind. I let a critical remark cave me to isolation and make me unsociable, resentful and angry. I let every single thing that hurts me or questions my intentions, defeat me.
In turn, I defeat myself.

I lose the mind game.

Brene Brown, in her TEDtalks video gives me more of a grip on myself and my life, in less than half an hour, than I have had in my whole entire life.

She doesn't tell me about how I see myself, or who I want to be.
And she doesn't tell me what I’m positive about.

She tells me how I feel from the darkest depth of my soul.
She tells me what makes me feel like shit, and why that's so powerful.

"When you ask people about love, they tell you about heartbreak. When you ask people about belonging, they tell you their most excruciating experiences of being excluded. And when you ask people about connection, the stories we tell are about disconnection. Shame is the fear of disconnection." – Brene Brown

I consider myself a pretty real-deal person. What I found out, jaw open, body tense and mind engaged, was that Brene saw through my little shell of who I am, and saw where I hid my vulnerability in a box, on the shelf marked ‘Do not friggin’ open.’

I shared myself to people I didn't know. But, did I allow myself to be authentically vulnerable, did I trust them with it, was I pre-determining a judgment that didn't even exist?

#realitycheck.
Vulnerability is going on a date with no makeup on and a dress that doesn't fit your goal size.
Vulnerability is telling someone how you literally can’t stop thinking about them.
Vulnerability is investing in a relationship that may or may not work out.
Vulnerability is doing something without an expectation of gratitude.
Vulnerability is breathing through the wait of a call back from the doctor.
Vulnerability means letting go of who you think you should be, to be who you really are.
Vulnerability is what it is, not what it should be.
Vulnerability means living your life by faith, and not by sight.
Vulnerability is being the authentic, real, whole-heartily, you.

For so much of my life when I thought I was getting connected and being authentic, I was numbing all other areas of my pain with a passion that was temporary. I was seeing long term before I even thought about taking the next baby step. I told people what I meant, or what happened, but neglected to tell them what was happening. I was thinking about the repercussions before the answer even came. I bypassed telling my loved ones that I loved them, or that they were hurting me, or that they were doing something wrong. I was afraid of being exposed. I AM afraid of being exposed.

If I can commit to at least one thing in my life, it's this.

I am going to learn how to lean into the discomfort of the work and feel what comes up for me, good, bad or indifferent. And the most difficult part of all of this? Just sit with it, and let it be okay.

I am raw. You are raw.
I am enough. You are enough.

We are a vulnerable force to be reckoned with.

  watch this. learn something. share.

Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=iCvmsMzlF7o

I am my words: This is what I am

I'm the intrinsic one. The spiritual weirdo that asks you what your sign is on the first date. The intuitive Einstein that enjoys sipping coffee at a dusty old library while writing down my visions and goals. I prefer sleepovers with my journal, rather than with my friends. And I write some fantastic, sentimental birthday cards. 

When I was asked at age seven what I wanted to be when I grew up I said, without a doubt in my way, a teacher. When asked at age eighteen I said, remembered by a life worth writing down.

I write because I've always wrote. It's what I do and how I cope. It's what has naturally budded in to being my human passion. It occurs naturally and organically. It has created a candlelight that glows with security through the depths of my darkness. So when I sat in my undergrad Composition II class and looked at my term paper, my identity disappeared as fast as the last flicker of a flame. The top read, 'Opinions of U.S. Global Superpower Status.' And what followed was an array of drenched words, covered in blood red etches; scrapes and scratches taking a free-fall in failure. Not to mention, the big, fat, 'D' was circled twice in a lopsided circumference. 

The most difficult words to spit out are usually the ones found revving their engines in the garage of our throats. Hot and ready to blow. And as I locked eyes with my professor across the room, it was obvious to see he knew exactly what I thought that 'D' really stood for. 

The impulsive sensations of anger echoed so loud through my body. Instead, I sat comfortably numb with sizzled heat oozing out from my pores. I sat at my desk and began to hate myself for thinking I was ever good at something. I despised myself for assuming I had found my passion and I consumed myself with resentment for declaring it to others.

I failed and I felt every bit of it as I tossed the beaten up, slap-in-the-face piece of paper straight in the trash on my way out the door. 

Years later, I picked up a pen and wrote what would be my best work to date. The top read, 'I am this: This is what I am.' The text said, 'My words.' 

I am my words. This is what I am.

The mantra hit me and sucked up any ounce of defeat that was left looming in my gut. The ones who said I lacked creative substance, the ones who told me I'd never make my words mean anything, the ones who stole my journals and laughed at the entries, the ones who doubted and shut them up in a locked box for years, disappeared. 

Because those people are not my thoughts. Their thoughts are not my choices. Not my burdens to bare, my secrets to hold, my opinions to have, my decisions to make, or my memories to treasure. 

My thoughts are my reason for a powerful voice that is mine and mine only. 

I am driven to write. I write when I'm furious, I write when I'm ecstatic and I write when I'm suffering. But what really drives me to write, is the fact that one day I know when I pick my penmanship back up, I revisit that same moment and remember exactly what it felt like to be that girl in the story again. To be able to own what you write is to remind yourself just how wonderful you are, what you survived and what you conquered. To own your words is worth more than a letter grade can ever dictate. It doesn't have to be grammatically correct, witty or engaging - because it's too busy being raw and vibrating with energy. Your pages don't care, much like people don't. The major critic is the one who looks back on the days when you find out who you really were when 'they' weren't looking. 

The only advice your words will give back to you are to not waste valuable ink telling a story that you think you should. It won't change anything and it sure won't give you a better peace of mind. 

I've learned to never hesitate to vent, reflect and congratulate myself for the outlook I had in any particular moment. My writing is proof that I mean something to myself. It's proof that I can create anything that I want. 

And at the end of the day it is a powerful realization beyond belief. To discover that the only thing that can blow your candle-light out, is the very one who created the same flame in the first place.

Head high; drowning in quicksand

I placed myself on my comfy couch, with my fuzzy throw blanket and my chilled evening glass of pinot grigio. 

My tasks were done for the day. The tedious workout, the essential grocery shop, the eight hour work day, the call to my parents, the texts to friends.

I was perfectly aligned. Sitting pretty in my brand new apartment, in my brand new city, living my brand new life. I was placed in my picture perfect fresh start and all I could feel was a tidal wave of shame and imbalance. 

For nine months I had been searching for stability. I wanted to knock my goals out of the ball park. So that's exactly what I did. I went goal slaying like Buffy the vampire slayer. I got a manager promotion, I moved out to the beautiful city of Vancouver on my own, I completed a vinyasa flow 30-day yoga challenge, I ran distance four times a week, I ate healthy, balanced meals, and I spent quality time with myself.

And then I found myself staring blankly at a black t.v screen for two hours and watched the story of my brand new picture-perfect life play out. Dark, lifeless and completely blank. What I saw wasn't what I had been working towards. Not happiness or pride, but loneliness and fear doused with a bucket full of inauthenticity. It took landing in the realm of my own ego to realize that I hadn't had an honest conversation with anybody I knew for months. The conversations I had with my parents were short. The catch-up coffees with my friends were vague and the early morning chats with my coworkers were lame and untruthful. To the world I was killing my goals, I was happy, and I was working hard to get what I wanted to be. Everyone surrounding me was supporting me, but what I felt when I reached out in panic wasn't a ticked off checklist. It was God.

I had my head held high, I was drowning in quicksand, and nobody was saving me.

When I cleared my clouded vision away, I saw Him. What I declared was going to make me happy, whole and complete ended up steering me away from the only One who truly knows the path of my being as clear as daylight. Because He made it. I was being overwhelmed with selfishness. Not only was I checking my goals off a list like a maniac  but I was doing it to look good to everyone else. I lost sight of the fact that all I truly want and need for myself are pure and honest relationships with the people I love. Not defeating goal after goal and losing sight of my values in the process. 

Without my relationship with Christ, I wouldn't ever know balance. I would topple over and cave under the pressure of being what I thought the world needed me to be. 

My daily goal is now the equivalent of my lifelong goal. To stand with my Father and trust that every division of who I am is safe in his hands. What this requires of me is simply patience and faith. When I bring this in to my next 30-day fitness challenge, job opportunity, and budding relationship, I can fully understand what is required of me. I can stand in frustration or doubt and bring myself back to my main reason of Being. Because when I am trusting in my Savior, I am in the most perfect position to stand grounded in peace. 

it is my nature to love others, more.

I feel before I think.
I create beautiful stories in my head with people I've never met, in places I've never been.

My craving to love others bleeds thicker than an endless flow of water.
It holds no weight. It sees no limit.

          majestic in motion.

you held a one way ticket to clarity in your back pocket. dreams of inventions, visions of proper figures. a lavish lifestyle, tailored with mystery. cherish my name, say it with ease. 
cool as the dark side of my pillow,you flipped over when your dreams didn't match up.
you loved me on purpose.an energy the color of amber, burning like a flame in the rain for three days.
i have the words and no way to speak them to you.  

chocolate or vanilla. choose.

Chocolate or vanilla.. choose? 

I choose chocolate.

Why?

Because I like it

Because I crave it

Because it tastes good

Because it makes me feel good

Because it was convenient 

Because it was better

Because I don't like vanilla.

I choose chocolate, because i choose chocolate.

Simple.

A month ago, I was introduced at a conference to this simple but abstract idea. Two comparisons, one choice, countless reasons. How many times a day do we justify our choices? Look back at your life. What situations do you wish you had chose differently based upon the outcome? What do you wish you did, or wish you didn't do? At this very moment, what you are doing is based upon the choice that you made. The outcomes are the result. There is no reason to look back at it or make it mean anything. You did what you did because at that moment you made the choice to do, think and live it.

My fixed way of being has controlled me for majority of my life. I gave my choices stories, I made them mean so much more than they were worth. It gave me a long list of excuses. The rackets that I brought to my life made my reasons come alive. My personal complaints were a result of my own creations. Nothing had happened, but what I had made these creations mean was a whole different category in my life. My darkness. Everything that I was holding on too and everything that I was holding back about myself. 

The question raised. What have I been authentic about being inauthentic about? 

I could say: Not standing up for myself, letting others walk all over me, letting my past relationships break down my new ones, not telling my loved ones how I really feel.

Check my choices.

I have had complete control over everything I had thought was making me what I was. From failed relationships, reasons for feeling misunderstood, my body image, my trust issues, my responsibilities. After all the blame I had put on everything and everybody else, the choice to clear the air and make new possibilities real for myself was right in front of me. The options are not what shape us, neither are the choices, nor the outcome. We must handle what comes at us and simply just make a decision. Whether it is telling somebody how much you love them, spending a considerable amount of money, sleeping in, skipping out, making dinner, going for a run, buying flowers. The intentions of the choice will always be there. But you are going to have to live with the choice regardless, so don't make it mean anything. It is what it is, not what it should be.

The reality is that shit happens. But what would we have to talk about if it didn't?

So I choose chocolate. Because chocolate, is my choice. 

Run like you stole it.

Once upon a time, I almost quit at 29 minutes.

When I was creating my vision and goals worksheet at the end of the 2012 year, I never thought I'd be doing more editing, exceeding and expanding than I've marked up on my letter-sized, printed piece of paper. 
My method of urgency is simple. Few things keep me more at ease than seeing something written with a 'by-when' and scratching a thick dark line through the task that same day. 

I'm not a runner. I don't look pretty when I run like the youthful blondes on t.v do, cascading through a trail without a bead of sweat on their faces. I huff and I gasp for air. My thighs jiggle. My face looks terrified and pissed at the same time. 

I can't wait to finish the second I start.

Backspace 4 years ago when I started my journey of being a college athlete, where running is simply second nature. You do it to compete. You do it for punishment. You do it to ease your cluttered mind and you do it because you are usually rushing from one place to the other to be where you were supposed to be 15 minutes earlier. 

I hate everything about being in a hurry. It makes me anxious. It makes me really mad. 

Fast forward to this present moment. 

..Deadlines are my best friend, 
I have completed a 5k, 10k and my longest run to date is 1 hour and 50 minutes at a steady 10:55 pace, when I almost quit at 29 minutes.

Whewf.

1 year goal- I conquer something that terrifies me.

Lets dissect the roots of this.

I hated running. I hated being in a rush. I hated being late.

I hated the idea of not meeting expectations.

I associated this all with punishment and let down.

I never gave myself a chance to love something because I didn't give myself a chance to face my fear. 
All this time I was in control of my own punishment.

Do I sound like Dr. Phil yet?

Truth is, taking the time to myself to commit to something I loved to do gave me comfort.

I didn't feel so inferior to my own capabilities. 
I liked getting to know myself, to know my body, its limits and its freedom. 

I now run at least 10 miles a week. Not because someone told me to, but because I have that special time to myself. I breathe fresh air and if I need to, I lose control and scream at the pavement with my legs. That is my time to feel frustration, happiness, clarity and discomfort all at the same time. I learn more about myself because I take the time to do so. 

My legs do the work, my head just listens.

I run my first half marathon this upcoming August. It scares me to think I'm not terrified at all. I chose to do this. Not because I'm forced, but because my soul has this pulling sensation from my pre-arthritic ankles to my crunchy knees, to run right after my fear whenever I start my first long stride. No matter how sore I am or how resisted I feel from taking the next step, I do. 
I do, because I chose to do so and I'm capable of making my own choices. 

And that is pure, unconditional, self-love. 

if everyday goes like this, how do we survive?

The longing of wanting that 'something' more brews within me like a ticking time bomb.

The stability of staying comfortable and composed with subtle lifestyle changes is what we strive for, right? Finding the ideal job, making the right amount of money, marrying the right person, having the happiest family, being the right weight, saying the right things.

The steps to happiness are labeled in a correct order that is appealing to follow.

I'm no different. I want all of it. I want the order of how it's suppose to go.

Because having and pursuing all these steps keeps me grounded and settled. 

Problem is, we get lost in the lists. We lose ourselves a little in the process and you never seem to find whatever it is you want, when your looking for it. Our paths change and life happens. While we're planning it's stepping stones, a monsoon comes and knocks us into the river. We struggle for a bit, we rinse off, we rise and we continue to this invisible destination of completeness. 

My reminder of reality to myself is this..

Hey. Today doesn't have to go as planned. Be okay with the outcome. It's not always going to feel right. Make the best of each and every possibility. Know that you do not have control of what goes on, on the road. But your holding the reigns.

Suddenly the expectations, the to-do lists, the steps of how it should go, aren't so overwhelming anymore.

I'm happy, I'm listening and I'm in love with the possibility of uncertainty.
Live on.

year of the snake

Happy 2013 beauties!

What an exciting year to be a part of. When the clock hit midnight on January 1st, I did not feel any different, nor did I feel like a changed person. What I did feel was passion, energy, happiness and excitement with my surroundings and also a mean hangover a couple hours later.

Whats up for #princesspriorities this year, you ask?
Much.

I am taking this page to a whole nother level. 
Vamping the layout. Including links, lyrics, fellow bloggers blog posts, facebook posts, instant pictures, routines, tutorials, videos, a feature stories, diets, goals, workouts, and personal trials.

We are getting personal and I invite you all to know about it.

I have gone through some miraculous changes in the past five years. Game changers, epiphany's, low-blows, heart breaks and bat shit crazy encounters. 
I am a mold that has been shaped by Gods grace into something I can finally be proud of.

If you relate to this, I want to hear about it. I want to know what you've been through, what hit you at your hardest time, what made you want to understand that nagging feeling deep inside your heart that you were afraid to uncover. I want to relate to you and most importantly I want to know you. 

So many times we look at others in different situations than us and assume their motives. We judge them before we even have a chance to love what they have come from. The
next time you make a decision in haste, or suddenly feel so compelled to utter a word of insult, remember the times when you were at your lowest. Remember how much you craved a kind word, or a reminder that you are loved through all faults. 

Fall in love with yourselves every morning you wake up and every night before you fall asleep.

May this year and all your years to come be a privilege to grow from.

xo