What do you mean you don’t want kids?!?!

Yeah. I’m starting the post about not wanting kids with an analogy about kids.  Follow me though…

So you know those kids who constantly ask,

‘But whhhhhhhhyyyyyyyy????’

Well that was me but not literally cuz my mum would have smacked me, but def in my head.  Eventually this little girl grew up to start asking why out loud.  First just quietly to myself and eventually so loud that I could no longer ignore it.

I asked myself WHY I wanted to get married.  Is it to have a wedding? Nope, not into it. Is to declare in front of God, my family, my friends that I’ve found someone I want to spend the rest of my life with? Nawww. TBH I don’t care much about that either.  It’s only important for me to make that declaration to my partner. The rest is just a formality.  We’ll leave it there for now because this post is really about:

Why don’t I want kids?

The short answer is that if I have to think sooooo fucking hard to come up with a reason to want them, then sorry not sorry; I don’t want them.

I draw on all the reasons other people give for wanting kids. One that I get often is, there’s just nothing like it. True. But so long as that’s the case, I don’t know what I’m missing and I’m PERFECTLY cool with that. Because where I stand now, I don’t feel like I’m missing anything.

It’s def not because I’m afraid to be a mother or think I wouldn’t make a good mother.  Quite the contrary my friend, I know I’d be an awesome mum. And if I had an unplanned pregnancy I would love that kid more than life itself.  Knock on wood, but if that does happen and it’s years from now, and my kid is reading this:

Mofo I loved you from the moment you existed.  You just weren’t in the plan.  You will learn if you haven’t already, that life doesn’t always go to plan but it doesn’t make it any less valuable or meaningful – So fix your face!

I’ve been told by some friends who’ve been around long enough that maybe it’s because of the large age gap between myself and baby brothers.  Because like any big sister, I learned my time wasn’t actually  my own time and I learned to do a lot of things on my own while my parents focused on their babies who needed them most.  Because I was old enough to see my brothers go through the stage where they disrespected my parents and took them for granted.  Able to see my mother hurt from feeling devalued; which I’m sure I did to her too and I’m also sure is not unlike the experience of many mothers.  I know what I’m describing is not unique and of course I’m not telling you about all the moments of pride and joy that I know my parents also experienced.

But none of this changes that I just don’t have that innate desire to want children or marriage or that happy lil’ family unit. Being a mother isn’t on my list of aspirations.  I don’t question your desire for those things.  I don’t ask you why you want them and TBH I don’t give a fuuuuccckk.  Do you boo!  Be happy.  I will however ask myself why? Why do I want those things? And I just can’t find a reason that is truly meaningful to me. Not. One.  If you’ve got a problem with that, well, that’s just what it is…  YOUR problem.  I can I assure you, I lose no sleep over it.

What you might want to do though – if you’re not doing it already; for your daughters, for future boss ass babes, is not put so much energy into making other women feel bad just because they make a choice that’s different from your own.

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Where does your confidence come from?

StockSnap_RN1NPCIU8DI get this question often along with…

How do you not let that shit phase you?

How do you not care what people think about you?

Reminds me of something I used to say repeatedly at university when someone threw shade my way.  It wasn’t so much what I said, but the tone in which I said it,

“I don’t give a fuuuuuccccckkk

I mean, I say I don’t care but the truer statement is actually,

I don’t give enough fucks.

Enough to possibly spark some self-awareness and reflection but not enough to lose the value I see in myself.  If I decide to change something, it is exactly that; my decision.

Now I’m at the point where when someone says something negative about me or judges me for my choices, it’s usually pretty easy for me to laugh it off because I think to myself,

This issue really says more about YOU than it does about me.  Girl (or boy) BYE.

So how did I get this way?  There’s really no magic answer.  It’s a combination of my experiences and the way I choose to respond to those experiences.

In my teens and twenties I was surrounded by those who wanted to control me and my path, those who said nasty things to or about me because of my skin, my hair, my clothes, my body – much of which I had no control over.  Those who ignored me or wrote me off because of an ill-informed, preconceived notion of who I was or who they felt I was supposed to be – not unlike the experience of most young people.

Now I could assimilate.  I could pretend to fit in, but even then I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  Plus the truth always comes out so that really felt like a waste of my personal resources.  I’d rather be by myself than change what is organically me for acceptance and so my friendship circle was always small (and still is).

Here’s my thought process from the moment the tip of a shade arrow first brushes against my shield…

 1. Bitch please.

(Most often it ends here depending on the source – Example:  A stranger on the internet or the street.  Some THOT that’s a friend of a friend who doesn’t know me, some dude who’s trying to get at my cookie and is failing miserably).

2. What is going on with this person that has them feeling it’s imperative to share this with me?

(We only get to #2 if the source is valid.  Valid sources include:  friends, coworkers, close family, anyone who has both a take AND give relationship with me).

3. Should I find that this is actually about THEM and not me, I will let it slide and if I care enough, ask them if THEY are okay.

4. If I’ve made it to #4 it means that not only did the comment come from a valid source but also one who I care deeply about, who’s opinion I value greatly.  This will lead to some self-reflection, self-awareness and then possibly personal changes.

Put it this way,  I chose to use my previous exposure to shade as a vaccine.  Slowly building up my immunity against hate and negative vibes so that now any exposure cannot rock the foundation of confidence I’ve built.

Negativity touches my shield and barely penetrates my surface layers because my confidence antibodies are like,

‘Nawww B.  Not today.  Get the fuck outta here’.

 

 

How to Lose the Dead Weight

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Obviously I’ve been on this journey called life for a minute now.  I’ve said this before, I just want to be happy.  Now don’t get it twisted, saying that doesn’t mean I’m unhappy now.  I look for the positivity in every stage, even the struggles.  Sometimes being happy doesn’t mean adding something.  Sometimes it means losing something, cutting out, saying goodbye.

I’ve said ‘Bye Felicia’ to a lot of things over the last few years.

And I regret none.  Doesn’t mean I don’t miss anything or anyone; missing is fine.  But I say again, I regret NONE.  I’m good with missing as its far outweighed by the value of what’s gained.

So here’s 5 weights I’ve dropped off my back in the last few years.  Thought I’d separate them into physical weight and mental weight, but I won’t because they’re so tightly tangled into each other there’s no getting in-between them.  Holistic AF…

One:  Leaving food to chance.

Unless you fancy and got a chef on call to make you whatever whenever, not planning how you’re going to fuel your body is fucked.  You’ll end up making a bad choice or no choice at all, both of which are torture for your mind & body.  So, on Thursdays we meal plan.  On Friday’s we grocery shop.  And on Sundays we meal prep!

Two:  Consuming animals.

Vegan AF.  Not only has this given me more energy and helped me to lose the extra weight I put on (more on that here), but it’s also lightened my mind.  Living according to your values, especially those ones you subconsciously ignore is fire; matches & accelerant.

Three:  Inorganic Chemicals.

It’s taken some time to source beauty, hair and make-up products that work for me, are natural & cruelty-free and don’t break the bank but I’m almost there.  Again, it just feels better; inside and out.

Four:  Fucking Carbs & Sugar.

Woah brah, I’m not carb-less, but I have severely cut my carb & sweet intake and replaced it with healthy fats and periodic sweet treat cheat days, along with working real hard at keeping my protein intake on point (more details here).  And FYI for any mofo who wants to open the “vegan protein-deficiency debate”: try logging everything you put into your mouth for a week and then tell me you as a meat eater are getting enough protein – If you are, I’m certain you’re in the minority.

Five:  Unlike-Minded People.

Of course everyone doesn’t agree with everything you say and we go out in the world and work with all kinds.  I’m talking about those people who don’t support you, those people that always have some MF negative thing to say and poo poo on your goals.  And those negative people that feed into your insecurities because misery loves fucking company.  Nawwww man.  Fuck them.  Next!

Obviously it’s not easy to not care what people think.  Everyone cares.  Sometimes I say I don’t care, but I really do, just not enough to have someone else’s opinion dictate the value I see in myself and certainly not enough to stop me from doing something that’s right for me.

So drop those sand bags and live free baby!

 

What is comfortably uncomfortable?

Sometimes being uncomfortable is exactly what you need

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Comfortable…

Other than in reference to temperature that word doesn’t have a positive connotation for me.  Not negative either though.  Just not a word I would like to use when describing my life.  Happy.  Exciting.  Pleasurable.  I’d take either or all instead of comfortable.

Comfortable for too long of a time almost feels like complacent.  And complacent..  Well nawww, complacent just won’t do.  Comfortable would mean I have no desire to go further,  no appetite for more or thirst for something…  Something else.  Comfortable would mean that I’m content to remain in this spot.  Know this though,

I don’t associate comfortable with happiness or with fulfillment.

Comfortably Uncomfortable…

Now if I’m comfortably uncomfortable that’s a different game altogether.  It means I’m okay with the sickening, stomach dropping, most uncomfortable feeling in my current position.  More than okay with it; I revel in it.  I embrace it.  Surround it.  Inhale it till my lungs can’t hold anymore and I’m coughing and wheezing from the burn.  Because I need that discomfort.  To say to me;

“Hey J!  Are you good?  Cuz if you’re good then cool.  But we both know, you’re not good.  So next question:  What are you going to do about it?”

We’ll see then won’t we.

 

Are You Trapped???

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This idea of being trapped has been lingering around me for some time now.  I hear it mentioned more than I’d like.  Thing is, I don’t feel it.  Or at least not in the way it’s intended.

I’ve found myself in situations I’ve wanted to get out of.  Some more difficult than others but I will say that I never felt trapped by the situation.  I have felt trapped by myself.  Knowing the trapped feeling is transitional.

When I decided to study fashion arts and had to work full-time concurrently to pay for it, I made a promise to myself.

I promised myself that I would suck everything I could out of the program.  Go 200, all day, everyday, no matter the cost.  I barely slept.  I ate poorly, if at all.  I didn’t train.  But I finished with a 4.0 GPA and more importantly I was overflowing with skills and perspectives I could have only dreamed of obtaining otherwise.  And the cost?  Well the cost was 40 lbs of extra weight.  Forty pounds and I knew exactly where they came from.  Not sleeping.  Not eating.  Not training.  As my previous identity was all wrapped up in being a competitive cheerleader and training 5-6 days a week, this was hard for me to reconcile.  But I didn’t feel trapped.  No chance because nothing can hold me boss, promise.

I knew exactly what needed to be done but I also knew they were not changes I could make quickly while maintaining their longevity.  I needed to make them slowly.  I did and continue to do so.  The only reason why I’m able to do this is because I know that I am the determining factor.  I’m the only one that can allow myself to feel trapped.

This is in my bones.  I believe it in all aspects of my life; above all.

I am not trapped.  I am only caged if I allow myself to be.  The difference between where I am now and where I want to be is defined by…

How much sweat I’m willing to give.

How many tears I’m willing to shed.

How much pain I’m willing to stand.

How much work I’m willing to put out.

How much shit I’m willing to eat.

How much patience I can squeeze out of me.

I am not trapped unless I allow myself to be trapped.

And I don’t allow it.

 

How to: Patience AF

but patience is HARD

I’ve been quiet for the last little while but quiet doesn’t mean stagnant.  I’m working.  My head is down, my eyes are open, my mind is processing.

Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Every once in a while I poke my head up to take a look around.  Take a look back.  A quick check to what I’ve left behind (won’t miss you) and glance forward to make sure I’m still in line for what’s just ahead (and further still).

Promising myself that I will be patient as fuck and failing every once in a while with a volcanic eruption of anxiety prompting me to check & correct myself.  Reminding myself that…

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I’ve realized that while I’m the one in my circle that people come to when they want a raw, uncut opinion, I don’t often take my own advice.  Tried a little experiment the other day when I was feeling especially anxious and worked up about something.  I wrote down what I would say to one of my friends if they came to me in the same mental state and then made a voice recording of myself saying it.

Listening to my little rant two nights in a row was enough to kick those negative vibes.

I realized that the reason why I communicate in this blunt, tough love kind of way is because that’s the type of communication I respond to.  While it doesn’t work for everyone, a lot of people respond to it as well.  If you’re one of these people, try it.  It couldn’t hurt – just saying.

There’s something to this recording and listening to myself talk to myself as crazy as it sounds.  I’m sure I’m onto something.  In the meantime:

Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.

Patience.  Patience.  Patience.

Why apologize for being authentically you?

The miseducation about 30 something women

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As I’ve got a fresh new piercing and on the brink of completing my half sleeve, I recalled a comment made to me along the lines of women in their thirties having a late 1/4 life crisis scenario and rebelling against, well whatever it is they feel they need to rebel against.  Desperately attempting to feel young again.  I’m guilty of this judgement too just a few years ago and now I feel like a royal bitch (and not in that boss ass bitch kind of way) for thinking it.

I remember being at the hair salon many times in my early and mid-twenties, getting every kind of funky colour you could imagine put into my hair.  The ladies a bit older than I was at the time stank eyeing me heavy.  Mind your business boss!!!

I remember a pretty thirty something woman once.  She was getting her blonde touched up but steady creeping the pink in my hair.  Do it!!!  She hemmed and hawed for a bit and eventually went for it.  I thought to myself then,

“This poor girl.  So afraid to try something new.  Something she clearly wants.  So worried that what?  It will make her seem undesirable?”

But to whom?  And why should that matter if it feels good to you?  Yet also thinking, how lucky to feel so liberated by a single decision.  “She wants to feel young again” and now feel guilty for those thoughts.

Thirty something ladies making moves aren’t having a late 1/4 life crisis or any other fucked up label you want to put on it to make yourself feel better for your own fears and complacency.  They are coming into their own.  Accepting who the are.  Making decisions on the grounds of that zero fucks given platform necessary to create what ever happiness means to them.

They aren’t trying to be something they’re not.  They’re doing the polar opposite.  Being exactly, truly, authentically who they are.

Maybe even for the first time in their life.  Rejecting projections that were forced upon them.  Embracing that they are their own women.  Acting not without consideration to what others think but with conviction for what they think.

Unapologetically. Exactly.  Who.  They.  Are.