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August, 2009:

this and that

Aug 31st, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
4 comments
Straw!

Straw!

We leave for Galveston/Bolivar in 3 days. This time with Celeste along too. Temperatures are supposed to top out at 90F with 76F dew points. So, hot and humid as expected. My biggest concern is sun exposure for C and trying to find stuff to do other than swim on a peninsula that has practically no shade. Because 12 hours a day at the beach for 3 days in a row probably isn’t such a good idea. Maybe we’ll take some short trips to The Island, the Boardwalk, etc and find some shaded things or indoor things to do.

Celeste didn’t sleep very well last night. She woke up quite a few times crying and difficult to console. Around 2am was the worst. She cried for a while. Then asked for milk. When I brought her milk she cried because it wasn’t in the “blue cup”. When I told her she could have the blue cup in the morning, she started crying again. Eventually we ended up staring at the fan together and taking about the lights. An hour later she fell back asleep. Not sure what’s going on or really how to handle it except to continue to be patient and give her love.

I guess I found some chiggers yesterday. I think I know where and I’m glad I was holding C when I was there. I have yet to find any on her. I’ve got quite a few bites on my ankles and even one up at my hip. Of course they itch terribly.

I’d been going back and forth lately about buying another camera. Something smaller than a dSLR, but better and more capable than the pocket SD1200 I carry around now. Saturday sort of sealed the deal when I tried to hike, photograph, and carry Celeste all at once. If she was a little older it’d probably be okay. The trouble is that I have to wear a backpack since I have camera stuff, my stuff, and Celeste’s stuff. So I have no quick place to put the camera when she wants to be lifted. So, when I lift her she either gets a heavy camera in the face or I get one bashing against my elbow. I’m trying to not rush into buying anything this time, though. So, I’m going to give my big rig another shot during our trip to the coast. And Bonnie’s going to lend me her G9 at the same time so I can sort of get a feel for both since the G10 is what I’m looking at buying.

I went to bed at 9:30 last night and I’m still exhausted this morning. Not sure if I’m still a little sick or if it was due to all the waking up Celeste did. But, regardless, I’m not looking forward to going in to the office today.

Celeste got her first goose egg on Saturday. I let her do all sorts of things that many people don’t let their kids do. So, I’m sure those of you who know me and my parenting style are saying “I figured that would happen!”. But here’s the funny thing: she didn’t fall off the boardwalk I let her run on, 10 feet above the ground with no railing. She didn’t hurt herself jumping off the stool on to the living room floor all by herself. She didn’t hurt herself playing the “oh oh oh” game that she loves so much, which is basically her running in place on my chest. No. She hurt herself walking. No not on a trail, or in the sand, or in the water. She hurt herself walking on the sidewalk in front of a commercial establishment. She tripped on something (I don’t even know what), and hit her head on the large decorative rocks that adorned the place.

I’ve been going back and forth about buying a photo printer. This weekend sort of sealed that for me as well. My local CVS does just as good as my Dad’s photo printer and is much, MUCH cheaper.

And that’s all we have time for today. The end.

That Jumping From a Plane Thing…

Aug 28th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
6 comments
makes falling feel like flying

makes falling feel like flying

…. I did it.

So, last Sunday I jumped out of a plane. And I haven’t written anything here since then. Unless you follow me elsewhere, you might be wondering if I died. I guess sort of, in a way, I did die. Part of me anyway. One of those parts that really wasn’t doing me any good. But, in a purely physical sense, no, I’m quite alive.

I’m not really a thrill seeker. For me, sky diving was more about releasing control and enjoying the moment than it was about the adrenaline rush one gets from falling to their death for 60 seconds at 120mph, or floating 5,000ft over North Texas with nothing but some nylon and some rope keeping you stuck in the sky. Of course the adrenaline felt pretty good too.

But back to that death thing. The truth of the matter is, had there not been an experienced person strapped to my back willing to take control of the situation, I would be dead today. I almost entirely untrained. I would more than likely not been able to figure out how to operate my parachute or how to properly steer myself in for a landing or even find the Drop Zone. In addition, I made a mistake within the first second of leaving the plane that would have surely left me disoriented, unable to regain control, and, eventually, dead. But instead I have an entry in my log book that says “Awesome 360″.

So I did. I released control. I left my life and my child’s future in the hands of someone I just met with the only thing even resembling a guarantee of my safety being the unwritten pact between myself and my jump instructor that, he too, would like to come out of the jump alive and ready for the next. And we both did just fine.

The free fall is amazing. Air rushing past your face and yet the ground doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. It’s almost like you’re floating and the wind is blowing really hard at the same time. It doesn’t feel anything like falling. It’s flying. For 60 seconds, I was fucking superman. I even had X-ray vision. If you ever decide to jump with me you might want to think twice about getting in front of me. I’ll look.

I didn’t even notice that our parachute was being pulled. I knew it was about time because I’d been glancing at the altimeter. When it happened it took me a second to even figure out what it was. Suddenly my feet are pointing to the ground, I can feel my own weight resting on the straps at my groin, and the wind has stopped. Then the parachute fully catches, there’s a slight jerk, and that’s it. We’re not flying anymore, it’s more like controlled floating. The parachute works a lot like a hang-glider. You can steer the thing, make it fall faster or slower, turn in one direction, spin, spiral, whatever you want. The view is amazing.

Then we’re 150 feet or so off the ground and discussing our landing. Legs up at 20 feet, and we’re down. Heart pumping, skin tight, lungs taking in oxygen. You breathe. You look around. You have great respect and awe in that moment. You smile, you laugh, you hug your friends. If you’re me, you even ask a few of them to marry you. It’s just that kind of moment.

Within 30 minutes or so, I’m wondering why I’m not jumping out of plane again already.

The strangest and most unexpected part was the “afterglow”. I already run with a very high libido. This made it even more intense. Even if recreational drug use really is only a way to help us cope with what our society is lacking that we as human being require, this was the best damn drug I’ve ever been on.

I left part of me up there. Somewhere between the yellow belly of the plane and the bright green earth we live on a little chunk of me — a hard callous built up from too many pokes and stabs protecting some piece of me from feeling — tore itself free. I feel more capable of love, more ready for life, and less dependent on this silly society we’ve built around us having no idea what we were getting ourselves into at the time.

I’m jumping again in October. I think you should come too. And you really should click on the image in this post and buy yourself a copy. Because the next time I go, I’m bringing better photo gear, and you’re going to want to see those.

and we shout at the top of our lungs

Aug 20th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
No comments yet

(I recently wrote these words to a friend going through some hard times in her marriage. I cried when I wrote them. I’m crying now rereading them. I figure they are worth sharing.)

Marriage is hard. Really hard. And children make it harder.

But, then again children are hard too.

I think anything worth keeping requires some work. The natural order of the universe is chaos. If we want to keep it, we have to KEEP it. KEEP is an ACTION word.

I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m not even offering advice in that arena because I honestly don’t know ANYTHING about ANYTHING.

But I do know this: Marriage is more than “I love you”s and sweet nothings and flowers and good times. It’s more than a handsome face and a shared paycheck. It’s more than monogamy. It’s a commitment. It’s a promise to yourself. It’s a promise to another person. It’s an agreement between two people to scream at the top of their lungs:

FUCK YOU WORLD! I don’t care what you throw at me, or how hard you make this life, or what comes my way good or bad, this person and I are sticking together, hand-in-hand, through thick and thin, to make sure that, in the end, we both make it out together.

And sometimes we have it easy. Sometimes the world is so nice to us and everything goes our way and there are no trials, no doubts, no difficulties. Then there are the rest of us.

There are plenty of reasons to end a marriage. And there are plenty of reasons to stay in one. I can certainly learn a thing or two about knowing when to call it quits, because I’m the kind of guy that never gives up on anything, and that’s not exactly the way to be. But there are two things that I am unwilling to give up on:

  1. my child(ren). Never. Ever. EVER.
  2. my promises (both to myself, and to other people).

Promises are meant to be kept until they are fulfilled or until all of those affected by the promise agree to dissolve it.

You will get through this. And, in the end you will only be stronger. Both the YOU-alone you. And the YOU-together you.

If it helps any, know that you are not at all alone. I’ve talked to lots and Lots and LOTS of Moms (and Dads) about this. Something I heard over and over again is that, at this point, right at about the one year mark of your first child, it gets rough. Lots of women (and sometimes men) think about leaving at this very moment. And all of those who didn’t have told me over and over again how glad they are that they didn’t.

I hope this doesn’t come across as preaching. Because that’s not how I mean it. I’m just trying to share what I’ve learned, in the hopes that it helps you, even just a little, get through this hard time no matter how it is that you do that.

the importance of nylon

Aug 19th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
7 comments

I came to Starbucks on my lunch break in order to edit photos from my Monday night photo session. But it looks like my photos didn’t quite make it over during the backup/sync that ran last night. It’s trying to finish up now but, the starbucks network isn’t exactly speedy.

So, instead of editing photos you get a life update. I’m sure you’ll love it (or pass over it) but that means I’ll have to stay up later tonight to get it done. Ah well. That’s better than searching Hulu over and over again hoping for a new episode of “Warehouse 13″ or “Defying Gravity”. And I really should clean out my pantry someday, but, I’d more than likely put it off again.

This weekend is going to be crazy fun. As I mentioned in a Twitter update earlier (complete with calendar screenshot), I’ve got a lot going on. Saturday morning I’ll be driving to Forney to meet up with some other people, photograph the town and some crazy antiques store. Saturday evening is a Mojito party with lots of new faces. And I’ve since made plans to go hang out with some good friends Friday night (“Frolicking in the Village” is how I labelled it on my calendar).Then, the craziest thing of all, Sunday I’m jumping out of a plane.

Yes… that’s right. I’m going skydiving.

Well… by “going skydiving” I mean I’m driving to the place that does skydiving and giving them my money. I’m still not sure on the whole jumping out of the plane, plummeting to my death and, at the very last minute, relying on a man I don’t know to deploying a few pieces of nylon cloth and some rope in the hopes that it will save my life all in the name of a good time. I’m scared to death.

I’m glad my weekend is packed though. This is an “off” weekend — a weekend where I don’t have Celeste and only get to see her 2 days during the week. So anything I can do to distract me from missing her so much is a good thing.

the glass is half full

Aug 18th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
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ducks on a pond

ducks on a pond

I always so actively share the bad, the negative, and the difficult aspects of my life, that I probably leave the impression that there is no goodness or happiness to be found here. This could not be farther from the truth.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a perfectly good or a perfectly bad anything. There’s always a mixture of goods and not-so-bads and, sometimes, bads and not-so-goods. But all-in-all my life is pretty fantastic.

I have a good job.

I complain about it a lot, it takes up a lot of my time, and the work has slowly declined from “interesting and exciting” to “life-threateningly dull”.

But it’s a job. A good job that earns me lots of respect and a very decent wage. In these hard times, that’s saying a lot. And every day I get closer and closer toward self-employment.

I have a house.

I complain about it a lot, parts of it are too empty, and other parts of it are too full. It doesn’t have enough storage space, the kitchen doesn’t have enough light, and the walls that surround the kitchen aren’t as open as I’d like them to be. My yard is insane, and no matter what I do I can’t seem to keep the weeds at bay.

But, it’s a nice house. It’s mine. It’s provides shelter for Celeste and I and gives me the freedom to offer a bed for the night, or a room for the month to friends and family. My neighborhood is safe to walk in and is spotted with beautiful parks and a pool. I’m a short drive from a great number of city and state parks if I want to get even further out.

I have a nice car. A very nice car.

It’s not perfect. It’s not luxury. It costs too much. It’s not exactly what I want.

But it’s safe, it’s comfortable, it’s gets me around, it holds everything I need, and has room for 2-5 more people (depending on how much you like to squish). Plus it gets decent gas mileage and has good 4-wheel drive when needed.

I have a beautiful, smart, amazing daughter who loves me very much.

I complain about how hard it is to be a single dad, or how cranky she can get when she is being thrown back and forth from home to home with two different sets of rules and two different schedules. I complain about how much I miss her when she’s not around.

But our time together is amazing. We teach each other so much and she brings so much joy to every second I am with her. She is the brightest spot in my every day. She makes me want to be a better person and reminds me that the simple pleasures in life are often the greatest.

I have a small handful of very good friends.

I complain a lot about how people never drive to visit me. How they don’t understand what it’s like to try to kill time with a toddler because they couldn’t get their ass ready in time to be where they said they’d be when they said they’d be there. I complain about how it never seems to be fair or even and how the supposed two-way streets of friendship often seem to have traffic going in only one direction.

But… that isn’t all of my friends. There are some who call or email just to check in on me. Some that that offer to cook me dinner, even in my own home, for no reason other than that they’d like to see me. I know at least 3 moms that I communicate with on a nearly daily basis that love and care for their children in ways very similar to my own. I have great respect for them and offer as much of myself to them as I can. They offer me support and kindness and friendship and even an innocent flirt from time to time. The remind me that no one is perfect and every day is its own success and its own reward. They welcome Celeste and me into their families and often reach out to us when they feel we are too distant or that we might be in need of company. I have other friends, with and without kids, that genuinely care and regularly offer themselves into my life in various capacities. Though they may not be numerous, what they lack in quantity they surely make up for in quality.

One friend in particular, who happens to be an amazing mom of four kind, beautiful children, said this to me yesterday when I was particular upset that turned my entire day around.

Daniel, very very few people love or care as much or as deeply as you do. You are one of the most caring people I have ever come to know.

All of these words to say, my life is quite good. While, more often than not, my complaints are valid, if you should find yourself on the receiving end of my venting, after expressing a little compassion and understanding, you should probably kick me in the ass and remind me that my life really is fantastic.

(I chose this photograph because, just like my life, it is not perfect. But it’s beautiful, and full, and enjoyable just the same.)

a bittersweet visit

Aug 16th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
10 comments

My parents and my sister came over to my place today. My sister came in order to do a favor for my neighbor. When I told my parents she was coming, they decided to come too at the last minute.

It was nice to have people over. I realized that it’s been quite a while since I had guests, which is a real shame because I keep a clean house, I love having people over, and I enjoy entertaining. So, I’m going to make a point of personally inviting people over more often. At least until people decline enough to make me realize why I stopped inviting people over in the first place.

The strange thing about having my parents over is that there is the odd vibe between my mom, my sister, and I. I could be inventing this entirely, of course, but I don’t think that’s the case. My mom could have come over whenever she wanted yet, instead, she arrived at the same time as my sister. Since they were coming from the same place, that sort of makes sense.

She could have left whenever she wanted to as well, but she left when my sister did. I had told them that my nieces could go swimming if they wanted to. My dad even packed them a swim bag and everything. But, my mom decided she just didn’t feel like it. I even offered to take them on my own if she just wanted to hang out in the house while we went. But still “no”. She said she had some photo editing to get back to. And I’m sure she did. But I don’t know how many weekends I’ve spent at her place with them at her urging when I had plenty of stuff to get back to my own house. So, my guess is that either really is THAT selfish, or there is something else going on. I’m thinking the latter.

I’ve always gotten the impression that she regards me as somewhat lesser of a person than other people. I’m not sure if it’s because she actually thinks less of me, or because of something specific that I’ve done to her, or because I’m technically her step-child.  But I always feel like any time she spends with me — especially time spent at my house — is really putting her out. And I don’t get that same impression when it comes to my sister (her daughter) or my step-brother (her son). But I do get that impression in regard to my brother  (her step-son).

Then again, it may have nothing to do with any of that and may actually be a product of my personality. I’m a bend-over-backwards kind of guy. Especially when it comes to people that I feel obligated to in some way — like my parents. I think that this often leads people to believe that I am weak, or that I should be taken for granted or taken advantage of. It happens often. And usually I just take it, because, like I said, I’m a bend-over-backwards kind of guy. But eventually I just stop. And it’s often sort of abrupt when I do. And I really don’t want it to get to that point with my mom.

I once spoke to a counsellor about this. She said I should confront my mom and tell her exactly what I am feeling. Of course, she also was the one who told me to do what I was doing that Jess later indicated drove her further away, so I’m not really sure if her advice should be trusted.

I’ll probably never really know. It just makes me sad to have to feel it.

sleep: too much, yet not enough

Aug 16th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
No comments yet

Doing Less and Sleeping More

From the outside, most people would say that I do A LOT. But from my perspective, it seems like I’m doing less and less with each passing day. The time I spend at home, especially on nights without C, is almost completely wasted. When C is here, I have a lot more motivation to actually do something — go the park, mop the floor, dance to Beatles songs, whatever. But since I didn’t take measurements regarding how much I was doing at any time in the past — which is a hard thing to measure anyway — I have no point of comparison to today.

I can say with certainty that I am sleeping more and missing my alarm more often. Last night C went to bed at 9:45. I fell asleep putting her down and woke up again at 10:45. Then I went to bed at 11:30 and couldn’t get to sleep — just tossed and turned for a while. So I got about 45 minutes of “me time”. I set my alarm for 6:00, trying to give myself enough sleep and yet get myself back to a reasonable amount of time. When the alarm rang at 6:00, I shut it off and fell back asleep until 6:30.

I’ve never needed 8 hours of sleep before now. Between 5 and 6 used to be plenty. But maybe I need 8 hours these days. Since Celeste gets up at 7:00 almost every day, I may need to just start going to bed at 10:00 so that I can still have an hour or so to myself in the mornings. Otherwise, I’d never get any writing or photo editing done.

Yesterday and Lack of Sleep

Yesterday was a pretty good day, once Celeste and I agreed not to be so cranky with one another.

She’d had a really screwed up sleep schedule the past few days and it was all coming out. Thursday night, her mom said that at 7:00 she she asked to go to bed. That’s an hour and a half earlier than she usually goes down over there. Then she didn’t wake up until 8:00. And she took a 1.5 hour nap that following day. That’s 14.5 hours of total sleep. With me, she usually gets about 12. So Friday night she went to bed around 10:00 and popped up at 6:30.

So she was cranky. Actually woke up demanding something and crying because she didn’t have it right that moment. This is not typical behavior for her.

I was cranky too, because I hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. Her crying woke me up, which means that I didn’t get any “me time”, or even a few minutes to wake up before having to figure out why she was so cranky.

Eventually, we ironed everything out. We stayed at the house for far too long. I was trying to get a few things done and she was making that difficult. I lost sight of what is important and put too much stress on things that could wait. Eventually, we left the house and things got much better.

We went for a nice walk by Lake Ray Roberts. C gathered fist-fills of pine needles (which she calls pine NOODLES) and walked with them, bundling as many of them in her arms as she could fit. When she ran out of room she started making a giant pile of them on a bench. She was still a little cranky, demanding snacks along the way and, eventually getting the point where she only wanted to be carried. It was hot and that made the walk difficult, but thankfully I had the foresight to wear a hip bag instead of a shoulder bag.

We stopped for a quick lunch along the way. She made a huge mess, but at least she was smiling and laughing. On the way home she fell asleep and took a 2 hour nap. When she woke up, she was my little angel again.

The Best Sleeping Schedule

I believe that if you are a parent who has a schedule to stick to because of work or something similar, the best way to get a child used to that schedule is to wake them up at the same time every day. With some exceptions (of course), this should be done no matter what time they went to bed, how many hours they napped, or how much they woke up in the night. It’s much easier on the child (and the parent) to wake them up in the morning than it is to force them to go to sleep at night. And they will find themselves tired earlier if their sleep the night before was cut short thereby eventually finding equalibrium.

If I didn’t have a schedule to keep (ha ha ha ha ha), I’d get them up at a time that was about 30 minutes or an hour past when they would probably wake up on their own. That way there’s some room for them to not have to be woken up.

But Not For Me

Getting her up at the same time every day, however, is not a good option for me because I only wake up with her half the time and the schedule she is on when she’s away from me doesn’t work for me.

See, her mom has to be at work at 8:30 which means she leaves her place around 8:15 every day. She gets C up at 7:45, puts clothes on her, puts her in the car, and lets her eat breakfast at school. She’s out the door in less than 30 minutes. I could do the same and would end up getting C at school 15-30 minutes later than she does with her mom since I have farther to drive, but Celeste and I really enjoy our morning times. We usually take a bath or a shower in the morning. We have breakfast together. We water the plant and feed that cats. It’s really nice. But, it takes me about an hour to get out of the house, if not longer.

I’d prefer to get her up at 6:00. That way we’d leave the house by 7:30, she’d be in school by 8:00 and I’d be to work by 8:30. But I’m not sure how well that would go over with her mom if she was getting up almost 2 hours before her mom wanted her up. But 7:45 is just too late. So, I am for between 7:00 and 7:30 each day and just try to go as fast as we can on school dats. Which means she doesn’t get to school until 9:00 or 9:30 and I don’t get to work until 9:30 or 10:00.

And there you have it. An entire post on sleep. And now it’s almost 7:30. Time to wake up the kiddo.

children: my anti-stress

Aug 14th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
2 comments

finding peaceA month or so ago I realized that a lot of stuff was putting me under stress that I just didn’t need. I realized that as much as I wanted that stuff, when served with that much stress it just wasn’t worth it. I’m talking about a mix of small silly things and much larger more important things.

Not only was it wearing me thin, but I was transferring lots of it to Celeste. Realizing that last bit was the moment of impact. When I realized how much my being stressed out affected her it was suddenly no longer an option.

You’d be amazed at how good having a child has been at DE-STRESSING my life. Based on many reports from many parents you’d think it would be just the opposite, but not for me. I truly believe that, for most people, if they have a child and take the same stance on parenting that I have taken, will be be better, happier, more peaceful people.

(Please Note: I’m not saying there is anything wrong with any other parenting stance in particular, just that mine is particularly good for de-stressing. I’m also not suggesting that this is the only way to find peace in life. Finally, I’m not at all saying that people who feel they are too stressed out should have a child and solve all their problems.)

Celeste has changed my life in so many wonderful ways. She brings out the best in me.

In fact, the only things left in my life that are somewhat annoying or stressful is my job, occasional bouts of loneliness, and my highly active (over active?) libido.

If I could find an attractive, loyal, artsy girl who enjoys nature, children, and simple living who would require personal time yet would be dedicated to the concept of family (chosen or otherwise), who had a similar libido and an interest in me, that’d be ideal. That’s not asking for too much, is it? Ha! Applications are being accepted!

Then, all I’d have left to complain about would be the job and I’m well on my way toward fixing that.

this is the point: to live

Aug 11th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
No comments yet
in the middle

in the middle

1) As a friend pointed out today, life is a journey, not a destination. The potholes along the way are unimportant, and where we end up when we finally stop matters the least of all. What does matter is how we get there, and what we learn along the way. There’s a quotation supposedly in Playboy magazine from Stanley Kubrick that is fitting:

The very meaninglessness of life forces man to create his own meaning. Children, of course, begin life with an untarnished sense of wonder, a capacity to experience total joy at something as simple as the greenness of a leaf; but as they grow older, the awareness of death and decay begins to impinge on their consciousness and subtly erode their joie de vivre, their idealism — and their assumption of immortality. As a child matures, he sees death and pain everywhere about him, and begins to lose faith in the ultimate goodness of man. But, if he’s reasonably strong — and lucky — he can emerge from this twilight of the soul into a rebirth of life’s élan. Both because of and in spite of his awareness of the meaninglessness of life, he can forge a fresh sense of purpose and affirmation. He may not recapture the same pure sense of wonder he was born with, but he can shape something far more enduring and sustaining. The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent; but if we can come to terms with this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries of death — however mutable man may be able to make them — our existence as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfillment. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.

2) I’m managing to recapture some faith in myself. Not only my ability to “do it” but my ability to do it “alone” if necessary.

jumbled above

jumbled above

3) I’m also regaining faith in my own intuition. For a while it was as though I had intuition vertigo. I could manage to work it out, but it was always too late and only with great effort. It became such a chore that I stopped relying on it at all. Slowly, I’m finding focus and stability there and I’m relearning how to trust that sense. 4) I no longer feel so driven to produce something notable. It’s not that I don’t want to, or that I don’t have the desire to do so. Not at all. But there was a time where I thought that life was pointless if I didn’t do something memorable. I realize now that life is still pointless even if I do — except that it isn’t. When focused on a destination, it is pointless. When focused on the journey life’s point becomes clear — THE POINT IS TO LIVE! 5) The more I reach out to people, the more alone I feel. And when I stop reaching, yet remain open to contact, the more that I find that life reaches out to me. I just need to be ready to grab it.

exposed and accepted

Aug 10th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
No comments yet
belly exposed

belly exposed

Do you ever consider that you might have shown much of your soft underbelly?

Do you get to this point where you wonder if you’ve made yourself so vulnerable that you’ll only be taken advantage of and never again respected?

Do you ever start to think that maybe you should have just kept it to yourself and, ultimately, you would have been better off?

Because I know I’ve considered that point many times. I’ve looked back at things I’ve done and shared and thought, “that was too far, Daniel.”

But, in the end, it wasn’t too far. It got me right where I needed to be. Even if it ruined the relationship that the vulnerability was expressed in, the end result was that it made me more open and more accepting of myself and more capable of seeing and knowing who deserves my openness.

And that’s worth it. It’s REALLY worth it. Because, when it’s finally appreciated, it feels so good that all the heartache that it took to get there is but a small pinch in comparison to how good it feels to be truly, wonderfully accepted both by yourself, and by those who care for you.

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