addiction

More often than not, when you read the phrase “My cup runneth over” you immediately picture abundance. A happy, fulfilled life filled with blessing. As of late, when I hear “My cup runneth over” I picture an overwhelmed woman , emotionally, mentally and physically. Why do I picture such a woman? I picture her because I am her.

The last few years, especially the last 6 months, my life has been turned around, flopped upside down and all around. The events in my life have been affecting me 100%, unfortunately most of the reasons have nothing to do with me personally. That’s a tough thing to deal with – things in your life that affect you and you have to deal with that really don’t have anything to do with you. * my blog today may seem vague in some ways, that is because some of the stories are not mine to tell and I do not want to break confidences or name names, without permission to do so.

Someone I hold dear is battling an addiction, winning that battle these past few months, but battling none the less. Addiction is a ninja. It creeps in without you seeing it until it’s directly in front of you. It’s a thief too. It steals your trust, your self awareness, your sense of reality, your sense of truth… and this is what it does to those of us dealing with an addict…I can not imagine what it must be like for the addict themselves. I have gone through so many emotions, from empathy, to sympathy, to resentment, to anger, to rage, to despair. You name it, I felt it. With help from my circle, I am beginning to let the past go. I still have moments of all these emotions, usually one at a time. When they all congregate at the same time, well that’s a fun time.

The point of today’s tale is not to invite you to join my pity party, or to feel sorry for me, or to send me hug emojis. My goal for this blog is to keep it real. So here I am keeping it real. I’m a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend who lets her cup runneth over, and that is the one thing that is on me and me alone. Taking on everything is on me. That’s a hard pill to swallow. It’s so much easier to blame everything and everyone else, or so we think. At the end of the day, the decisions, actions and reactions you make are on you and you alone.

My hope is this will bring someone some clarity or serenity to their day. To know that they are not alone. To know it’s okay to be angry, to be resentful, to grieve for the life you had planned that didn’t turn out. What’s not okay is to live in it. Let yourself feel it, let it sit with you a while, then say your goodbyes. There is no shame is life’s ugliness. There is only shame in hiding it. …and remember, pain is pain. You have your pain. Others have theirs. It’s not about competition, it’s about compassion.

I started this blog to share the tales of my daily escapades in the shop/salon I work in, to give a different perspective, to educate and enlighten the masses about the world of beauty. There is something I feel I need to share with you all, an educational tool if you will. Although today’s blog isn’t about hairspray or rash ravaged bikini lines, it is about beauty. The beauty of honesty and pain. Of sharing your story and speaking your truth.

There is a book that kept coming across my path. Every time I was at the book store, there it was. It was never in the section it was supposed to be in. So, I picked it up, flipped it open to a random page and the first thing I read had me laughing. I bought the book. The book is guts by Kristen Johnston. With each chapter I found I myself laughing, crying or shaking my head in acknowledgement, or all three. You may think I am romanticizing (and if so power to you), this book gave me that last little nudge to take a leap of faith in myself. I am not an addict, nor have I battled an addiction in a traditional sense, but I have battled with the voices in my head saying “You are not good enough”, “You are not pretty enough” and so on. Come on…admit it…we have all been there at least once, ladies and gents alike. Kristen Johnston tells her story truthfully, she puts it out there for all the world to see. Most of us can’t even admit to ourselves in the wee small hours of the morning our shortcomings. I always thought I knew what it meant to have guts. Now I am sure of its definition. Her story confirmed what my father had told me all along…different is good, and she confirmed what I had always felt to be true, sometimes being a smart ass is a good thing.

Here is the reason I am sharing this tale today. I am all for voicing an opinion (if you have been reading my blog you know that) and freedom of speech, when it is the truth, not when it is a lie. Every once and a while I come across or hear an uneducated remark and it gets me a little fired up. Be it about our beloved author, bad hair advice or anything negative in general. (maybe I am entering early menopause…still got the ol’ ovaries).There is difference between being a smart ass and just being an ass.

Choose your words carefully. Do not use the internet as courage. If you won’t say something to someone’s face, maybe you shouldn’t say it at all. Be kind, because in the end, it may be your story being shared.