Where's my voice and who the hell am I?

I've been struggling to find my voice on this blog for a while. I like hippie stuff, but I don't see myself as a hippie blogger. My house doesn't look like a constant drum circle is happening.  There isn't always pretty sunlight streaming in my windows lighting up the steam for my cup of tea while my cat snoozes. Please. Half the time I don't even bother to lift the blinds in my bedroom.

My life isn't a perfectly curated Instagram photo. The script of my day doesn't read as if I am writing a self help book that will make your life perfect.  I have issues. I have dirt, and grime, and dust bunnies raising their great-great grandchildren in my brain.

Years ago, I stopped reading fashion magazines to stop what was quickly becoming a shopping addiction.  I turned to blogs for my articles and fashion advice.  Sadly, I found the same exact focus on buying, having, and wanting.  I was just as dissatisfied with my life reading about someone's new wardrobe, gratis of whatever company was trendy at the time, as I had been when I read fashion magazines. Everyone became a brand, everyone had sponsors, and no one was any happier.

If I am going to write a blog, I am going to be authentic.  I have to be.  I don't want to spend hours pouring over filters and arranging and rearranging crystals until I have a set up that looks like it belongs in a fashion spread.

Dear reader, my life is not a glossy magazine.

And if I am to be authentic on here, I must accept that my reality is good enough. And you, dear reader, must accept that my life is not yours, and you should not feel pressure to conform yourself to my ideals.

September living in the past

I have spent the entire month of September mourning my hair. The. Entire. Month.  This time last year, I was in agony.  I couldn't look down at my computer screen without my neck burning.  I was spending every single night with a heating pad twisted around my next to try to ease the pain.  I was at the end of my rope. I had tried the strengthening exercises and the stretches. Nothing worked.  And so, I decided to do what someone who is in pain and is desperate usually does: the extreme.

I cut off my hair. I took a picture of Taylor Swift (who I look nothing like) to my stylist.  I thought a cute little bob would make the pain go away. And it did! At least the neck pain.  My cute little bob was not in fact cute.  It was horrible.  It was chopped unevenly and strangely.  It didn't hang even and sat at the most unflattering length for my face. If it were on Taylor Swift, she would have written a song about the stylist.  It was as if Sweeny Todd dropped acid and took to my hair.

I felt shorn and naked.  Like many other women, my hair was something I could hide in.  I had mastered the art of the dropping my shoulder and slightly leaning so that my hair curtained my face, essentially blocking off anyone's view I wanted to.  Now, there was no curtain.  There was no hiding. There was only exposure.  Suddenly, every garment I owned seemed to make me look 10 pounds heavier.  The cloak of invisibility that I was so used to sneaking around the world wearing was gone.

I tried to grow it out,  I did all the tricks-prenatal vitamins, scalp massages, hanging upside down. Whatever the collective wisdom of the internet suggested, I attempted, desperate for my safety blanket.  Of course, it took time, but my hair grew back to my shoulders.

And the neck pain started back up.  I tried to bargain with my neck, promising regular massages and lots of special care if only I could have my hair back. No dice.  The pain got worse and worse, and I got more and more desperate until I did it again. I cut it all off.

Which brings us to today.  I have a cute little pixie cut with sharp sideburns and v-shaped bangs.  Everyone tells me how much it suits me, how sassy it is, how edgy.  And I'm like the cheerleader stuck in the glory days telling people, "But you should have seen my hair long." I can't take the compliment.  It doesn't feel like a compliment.  It feels like a compromise.  My pain is gone at the cost of my locks.

And until science gives me a way to somehow rewire my neck to support weight, this will be my hair.  And one way or another I am going to have to accept it.  I think we all carry an impression of ourselves around in our heads with us. In my head, I have long hair, I'm still as thin as I was last year, and my skin is perfectly clear.  It is when I look in the mirror and I am confronted with the opposite of the image in my mind that I am unhappy with myself.  Somehow I must make the woman in the mirror and the woman in my head into the same person.  I must accept myself as I really am.

It is as simple, and as hard, as that.

Has this been your journey? How did you handle it? Is this you now?

Happy Autumn!

Happy Autumnal Equinox! I hope you have a season filled with bonfires, spices, and chilly nights ripe with mystery.  Like what seemed to be every other human being on Earth, Autumn is my favorite season of all followed by winter.  It's no wonder that my ancestors chose this time to begin their year.  There's just something so promising about Autumn.  There's more hope in Autumn, to me, than Spring.  There's a busy energy in Autumn that isn't overwhelming; the last preparations are made by all of nature to ensure a comfortable Winter season.  Winter offers a time of darkness for soul work, rest, and reflection.  Spring and Summer, with their hustle and bustle of new life and sizzling heat are nice, but give me a year with nothing but Fall and Winter anytime.

Don't forget to catch a falling leaf today for good health and good luck in the coming months.  I'm a big lover of old wive's tales, and this is one that I never let pass me by.  I always take the leaves I have caught (one for me, one for my cat) and press them in my diary.  So far, we've had wonderful health, other than a few sniffles here or there. It seems to be working, and it's just fun to do. What are your Autumn traditions?  What is this season bringing to you?

Last Full Moon of Summer

Who am I?

I don't think I'm one of those bloggers that will have huge insights into life to share with you as I don't normally have them myself.  I'm not going to push a product on you that someone else sells or that I sell.  I probably won't even bother you by appearing in your feed too often.  I as born a writer and write I must.

I'm a recovering student who dedicated my young adult life to the pursuit of understanding other people. What I learned was amazing, but I have never been more unhappy in my entire life. I've been searching for a year now for work without finding anything.

I cook, I create, and I take walks in the morning when I would rather be in bed. Sometimes I go to cemeteries and take pictures of the headstones. Sometimes I just stare at my computer screen all day.

My life is a jumble of hustle and bustle and dusting cloths and pans to be scrubbed, and I live out that life here on an acre and a half of rural land underneath a loyal forest of pines.

This is my blog. This is my life. Welcome to it.