healing – Brooke Lyn Landon

Changing My Life, Again

It feels like every planet imaginable is in retrograde, and I broke a mirror while walking under a ladder with a black cat in front of me. The apartment of my dreams slipped through my fingers, and I don’t know where I’m going to live in a week. While the prices of living in LA constantly make me feel like I need to get a “real” job or sugar daddy ASAP, the stubborn free spirit within screams, “ I LIKE FREEDOM AND BABY FACES!”

As some of you may recall, about six weeks ago I said I was going to change my life. Through meditation, affirmations and self discipline, I was determined to improve myself and my life. Well, so much for that. To be fair, I had many triumphs during that time, especially with insights on my relationships and setting boundaries. However, this last week shit hit the fan and it’s time for changing my life take 2…. Or take 973,694,761.

So, what went wrong? Nothing. Everything is as it should be. Yet, it feels like absolute SHIT. Why? Maybe because comedians love to suffer on the DL? idk. In all seriousness, I feel like a big part of my work in this lifetime is self mastery. The ADHD, depression, anxiety, addictions, and plethora of other goodies my hand was dealt in this lifetime, is really a royal flush.

It’s like getting socks for Christmas from Santa. When you’re a kid you’re like “God damnit why the fuck did Santa go to Costco for these off white socks when I asked for a slutty Bratz Doll??” Then, years later, you get socks and smile while the Bratz doll would have gotten a buzz cut and thrown in the trash years ago.

This is my path, and my sensitive bitch ass will find my success no matter how many takes I need. I will find my success because of these challenges I move though. They are not here to try to stop me, but to heal me. These obstacles are opportunities for the self mastery I was designed to experience and transcend. Take 2 (or 973,694,761) starts now.

From Summer Fling To Heart Sting

After the heartache, the mess, and the challenges that occurred two days ago, I’m feeling the light breeze from my open windows, thinking to myself “I needed that.” Seems bizarre considering a few days ago, what I thought I needed was a therapist and a sedative. To be fair, I probably still need both.

Rewind to one of my first weeks as a LA native. I open up an unread message in my DMs on instagram that I had been ignoring for days.

I read “Hey there I think we had a little chat on okc about your mesmerizing eyes and smile haha How are you?”

I told him I’m not on the dating app much, and gave him my instagram. I didn’t think he would actually send a message. He created an instagram account just to talk to me, which gave me some serious serial killer vibes.

Initially, he seemed like the type of guy that would send me a random friend request on Facebook and I’d think, “What in the no mutual friends do you want from my life?”

Then, foolishly accept the request, only to receive daily cringy messages and maybe an unsolicited dick pic.

He’s Israeli. Dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes, and a bright smile. He had been working at a summer camp in California, and was spending his final month traveling America until his flight back to Israel.

Eventually, my judgments of him being a creepy serial killer faded. I knew that we would have a good time if we met up, so we did.

We met at the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I wasn’t nervous. I was happy to have good company in this new city.

When I first saw him crossing the street, I wanted to take him shopping so he could buy a new wardrobe. His jeans weren’t doing it for me. However, that’s not my job. He can call Queer Eye for the Straight Guy if he wants help.

Instead, we walked up and down the outlandish crowds and buildings on Hollywood Blvd. We talked, laughed, and teased each other until the California sun inspired us to take a seat at a table in the shade.

After 45 more minutes of fun in no sun, a man who had been sitting next to us walked over with the wrapper to his sandwich, and a nearly empty soda.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I overheard your conversation. I just had to say, you guys have such amazing chemistry! It’s beautiful.” The stranger said to us with a smile.

That moment my friends, encapsulated our connection that day, and week to follow. However, that connection didn’t last forever.

He spent the following week traveling with his pack of Israeli friends. All the while, texting me all day, and FaceTiming with me every night. He would tell me daily how much he missed me and thought about me. I generally don’t miss people, but I pretended I did because I liked him.

He came back to LA early just to spend his final week with me at my apartment. *Insert dramatic impending doom music here*

We had completely different ideas of how we wanted to spend our week together. I wanted to explore the city. Maybe walk to the Hollywood sign, or take a trip to the beach. I thought about going to new restaurants or a bar in Hollywood.

He wanted to stay at the apartment all day, eat ramen in bed, and get his dick sucked. Our differences became more obvious each day.

On the fourth day, we were laying in bed, once again.

He put down his phone and said, “Change of plans. I’m going to spend my last few days with my friend in Pomona.”

I instantly felt a rush of emotions. Old trauma of abandonment issues and unworthiness began to bubble up within. I looked over, confused.

“Okay.” I said as I rolled over to face the window.

I couldn’t fathom having a conversation with the aching in my chest. I knew if he liked me the way he did before, he never would have wanted to leave.

After about 45 seconds he asked “How are you feeling?”

He knew something was wrong because my mouth usually doesn’t stay quiet for that long.

“Sad.” I said, as my eyes began to tear.

I could have played it off like I didn’t care, but I didn’t want to.

I didn’t want to act like a little bitch to make him feel bad. I wanted to feel my aching heart so I could give it the space, love, and attention it was desperately searching for.

I let myself cry. Yes, in front of him. I wasn’t about to shove my feelings down and not give myself the opportunity to heal because of some 24 year old, ugly jean wearing dude.

I wasn’t Kim Kardashian’s ugly crying face sad. My eyes filled with tears, and in between my wavering words, I sniffled.

“I can’t see you like this.” He picked up his phone to book an uber instead of staying one more night.

He continued “Look, I’m just a 24 year old….”

“This isn’t about you.” I interrupted.

“I’m not mad at you. This is not about you. This is old shit coming up for me.” It felt good to say.

I selfishly didn’t want him thinking he was that special. He wasn’t. We had a special connection, but he definitely was giving himself far too much credit.

I had a line of guys out the door waiting for him to leave so they could see me. If he thought all my eggs were in his basket, he was sadly mistaken.

He did not create this feeling of unworthiness. He was the catalyst for this trapped trauma to resurface and, with my willingness, heal.

This was not about him. This was my father leaving when I was a child. This was my first and biggest crush choosing to be with someone else. This was me, looking myself in the mirror every day as a kid thinking “You’re not good enough.”This was me, taking a knife to my body in middle school, and developing additions to cope in high school, because I wanted to escape the internal pain rather than face it and transcend the trauma.

Wasn’t expecting this to get so dark, but here we are. Don’t worry, it lightens up.

I acknowledged that it wasn’t about him and I did nothing wrong. Ever.

This is life. I am worthy of a good one. My worthiness is not dependent on the actions or feelings of others.

I let myself feel all of the past pain, and gave it the space to exist without judgement.

By the time the uber arrived, my tears and aches passed.

I’ll never forget the sad look in his eyes when we hugged goodbye. I made a lighthearted joke which I can’t remember now. Then, with a smile, I turned around to leave his sight for the last time.

We haven’t spoken since and I’m genuinely fine with it. I truly believe he was brought into my life to help me heal, and help both of us grow in profound ways.

…But for fucks sake, I was only the second person he had ever been with romantically. I should have at least gotten a written thank you card after all I taught him, if you ask me.

Jokes aside, I didn’t expect it would end this way. I will say, when it’s all said and done, I am beyond grateful for how things played out.

Sometimes the experiences that feel bad, are the ones that bring you what you are needing the most.

I Am Not Alright

I am not alright. As I’ve mentioned in a previous blog, I’ve been having severe sleep issues for months. To put things in perspective, when I went to the sleep lab to get tested overnight, during my 4.5 hours of sleep, I had 7 sleep apnea episodes and woke up a whopping 25 times. Imagine that. Actually don’t because it sucks, I know first hand.

The best they could diagnose me with was sleep architecture disorder which I’m convinced they made up. They probably saw me and figure I looked like an architecture with disorders and called it a day. I’m pretty fucked up right now though, so they’re half right.

Fucked up how, I’ll explain. I’ve been managing this lack of sleep like a tank for so long. By that I mean I’ve been juggling my 4 jobs, social life, and passion projects miraculously well. I had myself convinced I could keep going, but at what cost and until when?

Well, I found out 4 days ago that my limit had been reached. It was pretty clear due to my historical crying and dwindling will to live. Sounds pretty extra but if you went months without sleeping well, you’d want to hit the restart button at some point too.

I say I’m not alright, but I will be. My sleep will improve. In fact, because of this, I’ll be better than before. That’s how hard times and struggles work if you adapt and make the best of it. When something knocks you off course, the only way to get back on track is to focus more diligently than before. Now, I have more determination and eagerness to thrive, and drive to do what it takes to do so. I have to conjure faith and confidence in myself that I will be able to be better and do better than ever, and I will. I know this because that’s the attitude you need to create a life worth living and I’m not letting mine go to waste.

Faith, focus, and fun…. and a bomb sleep routine. That is what I need to create now to ensure I make the most of this blessing in disguise. Sounds like a sign you’d see hanging on the bedroom wall, of a girl named Becky, who goes to Starbucks so much that they make her a pumpkin spice latte as soon as she comes through the door. Regardless, next time you’re in a rut, remember when you have faith in yourself, focus on the life you’re excited to create, and make having more fun and enough sleep a priority, in time, the results will be fucking fabulous. Just watch.

Your Girl Was Ghosted

Your girl was ghosted. I’m talking Scooby Doo Ghosted. Like, I want to solve the God damn mystery. Although I’m pretty sure I know why, the only way to solve this entirely is to move on. However, this topic is still worth exploring.

So, why do we ghost? I’m not going to lie, even though I was so salty about being ghosted myself, that’s not to say I didn’t do something similar to someone else the following week. The situations were vastly different though, so I still think I deserve an explanation and apology from that fuck boi. Anyways, there are many reasons we do it and I honestly believe in some cases, it is for the best, but not in mine and not in many others.

Here’s what happened to me… I didn’t want to marry the dude. I would have been fine calling him “Thursday night” or having him in my contacts as “Netflix and fuck”. He, however, probably assumed otherwise considering the speed in which things progressed. You know how things can be as an expat. Day one swipe right, day two Netflix and chill, and by the end of the week you live together and he’s shitting with the door open. Consequently, instead of simply expressing his concerns or what he wanted, he went from Magic Mike to Houdini, and disappeared. At least that’s my assumption. What would have been ideal is not having to come up with an assumption because someone was mature enough to express himself and his needs/wants.

Ghosting is the easy way out, but is it the right way out? In cases where there has been some type of connection developed and it moved beyond acquaintances, then ghosting is a cop out to avoid expressing yourself like a mature adult. It’s more of a mind fuck to try to figure out what happened than to hear the truth. So, in many cases it’s selfish and inconsiderate. As I said, I’m no saint, I’ve been there done that, but it’s important to do what you can to improve your own communications skills, and own up to how you feel.

More importantly, if you’re on the ghosted end of the spectrum, if they’re not mature enough to give you a response or explanation in the first place, what makes you think you’re going to get the kind of response or closure you’re looking for if you attempt to pry it out of them? It’s like trying to calm down Karen mid conversation with the manager. It would probably cause more harm than good.

You won’t always be able to get the closure you deserve. However, you are able to move forward regardless by closing that door and allowing new ones to open. So, in short, communicate instead of ghost, and don’t ever chase a ghost for answers. Thank you, next.

Addiction: Old Habits Die Hard

Today marks year 8 since I left a rehabilitation center for eating disorders. That’s not to say it’s all been smooth sailing since. In fact, at times the waters have been rockier than Chris Brown and Rihanna’s relationship.

The past few months, I’ve been having the time of my life. I have an incredible group of friends, I’m making money, having fun, and blah blah blah. Yet, unbeknownst to the world, there was still an internal struggle with my old friend ED. (Eating Disorder) Although I haven’t “relapsed” as many would say, I have certainly regressed in terms of my behaviors, feelings, and thinking.

I look at ED as some abusive ex partner that continues to slide back into my DMs. It’s like ED can see my glow up, and can’t resist swooping back in. ED sends out a message, and I ignorantly open the new inbox notification that says… “I miss you.” I want to respond with a poop emoji but next thing you know a heart has been sent and we’re talking till 2AM.

It’s clear to me that these moments come when something within me is out of alignment. Regardless of how good life is, when I feel too much uncertainty, or a lack of trust in myself or life… *knock knock knock* Here comes ED with his never ending list of food suggestions and criticisms to “help” and control me. Can you blame me for feeling like life has had a fair amount of uncertainty these days? #2020 #isthisreallyhappening

Eating disorders are all about control, so this is my sick and twisted way to cope with the lack of control I feel in my own life. Then, this coping mechanism turns into a habit, and if I’m not careful, a relapse.

It goes a little something like… “You know you want to try that cookie. Go for it. Treat yo’self! You should finish them. Thick is the new fit so I’ve heard.” … “Can’t believe how much you ate. You’re going to be able to feed a Mormon family with the amount of rolls you’re going to have on you tomorrow. You better find a meal to skip soon.”

More often than not, it’s quite counter productive as you can imagine. I end up feeling like Gollum without a ring, but much fatter. (I don’t know why I write so many references from The Lord Of The Rings when I haven’t even seen all of the movies.)

Do I worry about relapsing in the future? I’d be lying if I said no. Heck, I worried today at the vegan buffet. That said, I refuse to let ED win. ED has ruined relationships of mine, and nearly took my life. Yet ED has also taught me some of my most valuable lessons and insights. I do not hate ED. In fact, I love ED for all of the strength and growth it has given me, but I also do not want ED to be an active part of my life again.

I’m here to say It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to regrettably respond to a DM every once in a while. You learn from it all. Just make sure you don’t take the loser back completely.

Emotionally Unavailable Man Magnet

F37B3620-60FD-405D-90A9-60FFE8E4E818 Have you ever wondered why you’re in another situationship/relationship/fling with a guy who has the maturity or emotional intelligence of a fetus? Or, perhaps you continue to date someone who is controlling or manipulative. Whatever the case may be, I can relate when it comes to attracting a similar type of person. I’d like to introduce myself. Hello, I’m Emotionally Unavailable Man Magnet.

Currently, my crush is emotionally unavailable for a plethora of reasons, but I think the fact that he has a girlfriend is a good place to start. My last crush had just gotten out of a 6 year relationship with the love of his life who left him for another girl. I think it’s safe to say he had some kinks to iron out. I could go on for eons but you get the point.

A few months ago, I was talking to a fellow human being, (I was going to say friend, but that would have been a lie.) when he unexpectedly read me faster than Harry Potter back in 1998. I felt naked, and although I’m pretty sure I literally was at the time, I’m speaking figuratively.

Why? Well, somehow we got on the topic of relationships. After he spoke of his past love/ trainreck of an ex fiancé back when he was 18, I mentioned how I’d never been in love. That’s when the reading glasses came on. He took a drag of his cigarette from my bedroom porch before he spoke.

“You probably started to fall for someone back when you were like 15, and before anything could actually happen, he hurt you, and now you never let yourself go that far because you don’t want to get hurt again.” I sat at the edge of my bed with my mouth wide open. He smirked like he just spoiled the ending of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince without my consent.

Instantly, my mind was flooded with thoughts and memories that made my heart ache. I began to ruminate about the boy I liked when I was 15, and how that became the catalyst for self harm and a suicide attempt. I also questioned if that connection could possibly still be affecting me over a decade later. To be honest, it wouldn’t have been the first time I asked myself that. I started to regret swiping right on this dude that was now pouring himself another drink while I sat in a state of inner turmoil.

I began to ask myself, is the reason I crush on emotionally unavailable men because I unconsciously feel safer from harm? Is that why I tend to attract those experiences? Could going down this rabbit hole solve anything? The answer to the latter is possibly, but why not tell myself a new story instead? Maybe that was true, but that was then and this is now. Now, I don’t need a magic potion or wand to start shifting my perspective on life and love. It won’t be as easy as saying “Wingardiujm Leviosa!” but acknowledging that it is safe for me to be open to love, and more importantly, paying attention to my passions and projects rather than penis, will steer me in the right direction.

It’s time to tell ourselves the stories we want to read. I’m throwing away that old emotionally unavailable man magnet tale. I am a magnet for personal development and opportunities for positive change. I’d like to reintroduce myself. Hello, I’m Brooke Lyn Landon, and I’m a magnet for forward movement, and continuously creating a life of fulfillment.

Is It Bad That I Don’t Feel Bad?

D53AAA57-6B3C-4B89-B3CF-1C6FA799F7A8 I don’t experience much drama in my life. I find a lot of joy in taking the high road and avoiding it. Not in the “I’ve done too much spiritual healing to lower my vibration to that level of douchery.” Kind of way. Though that may be true. It’s more like I’m too old for this shit and I really don’t give enough fucks. However, someone gave me one too many lemons recently, and I felt inspired to make some super sour, tasty, lemonade. Is it bad that I don’t feel bad?

Last week, I posted a rather controversial blog post. Basically, I put someone on blast in a rather savage way, and his friends were not pleased to say the least. It had nothing to do with them, but they were personally offended and hurt that I would call him out so publicly. Now, the goal was never to hurt someone, nor do I want to do that. If it does hurt someone, than I sincerely hope they feel better. I still enjoyed my lemonade.

I’m glad he gave me lemons because I learned a lot through the whole experience. I never blamed him for the frustration I felt because it was me who created the feeling. It’s true that if he didn’t exist, I wouldn’t have felt that way, but ultimately my feelings are my own doing. Being triggered by something, whether it’s from being royally fucked over, or a blog post, is a tremendous opportunity to reflect, heal, and find the silver lining.

My blog has always been about finding the silver lining in the bullshit, and being raw while sprinkling in some sass and comedy. To me, there’s no better way to let it all out and move on than that. Look, I never said I handled this situation perfectly. I’m not perfect. This blog’s subtitle is called “The Journey To Become More Zen As Fuck”. Not “I’m Zen As Fuck.”

Again, to anyone who may have been offended by my last blog post or this one, I hope you feel better and genuinely want you to be happy. That said, that is how I made my lemonade, so maybe you should spend your time reading something else. Although, to be fair, unlike my last blog post, most of them aren’t about how annoying I think another human is.

In short, I am unapologetically me. If you try to make me feel bad about making lemonade, I’ll sip it with my pinky up, and offer you a glass to cool down. I care about people, and don’t want to be what caused someone else to feel triggered. However, if me living my life authentically causes someone else to feel that way, I hope they make the best of it and come join me with their lemonade when they’re done. Maybe we can add a shot of vodka in it together.

Heartbroken on Valentine’s Day

A738E547-0B17-4FA0-AA4E-618120D68F01 Okay, maybe heartbroken is a little extreme. I certainly wasn’t heartbroken on Valentine’s Day. However, that day my heart did plummet to the bottom of my stomach. So much so that when it dropped, it came with an explosion of suppressed wounds and triggers that I certainly wasn’t expecting. All of that took place the moment I heard the sound of my friend say several words.

I met my friend through a dating app in the summer of 2018. You can probably guess where this is heading…It turned into a beautiful friendship along with one of the most unnecessarily complex “situationships” I’ve been in. When he moved the country, I moved on like Hugh Hefner. Still, we remained good friends and I did not look at him as more than that.

Look, I’d be the first one to admit a committed relationship would never work between us. He was and still is one of my closest friends, but we are polar opposites in every sense of the word. If we starting dating seriously, it would be like Kim Kardashian and that basketball player that lasted a whopping 3 months before they filed for divorce. Not compatible romantically long term. Anyways, you get the point, so let me get back to mine.

The moment I saw his face on my phone however, I thought “Damn, he’s hot.” but snapped out of it to catch up on life. Then, he said what I knew would only be a matter of time before I heard. “I started dating someone.”

I kept a smile on my face while I felt my heart ache. The hardest part was that I never expected I’d feel that way about him anymore. I didn’t think such news from him would eradicate every trace of dopamine in my brain. I thought I had moved on. Maybe I did to a certain extent, but my body mind and soul were sure to let me know I still had old wounds to face and heal.

Everything he said after that just amplified my pain. We got on the topic of sex which was a recipe for disaster. He talked about how he’s having some of the best sex of his life with her because she got him to do what I had been wanting him to do the whole time we were together. So, it seems like he decided to wait until he left to go from Mr. Vanilla to Christian Grey.

I’d like to think the reason after I hung up and felt like absolute shit had a lot to do with having only accumulated five hours of sleep over the last several nights. I want to believe it was PMS or mercury in retrograde or any other excuse in the book. That said, regardless of whether it’s one of those things or not, those feelings were in me. These thoughts and feelings that came up through the experience needed to be addressed in order to move forward and become stronger and more understanding of where I am and what I need.

It all boiled down to the limiting belief that we all have in one aspect of our lives or another. “I’m not good enough.“ It was that underlying unworthiness that came from him never having asked me to be his girlfriend. It was that subconscious doubt I’d never find the one for me. It was a mix of so many things that were just waiting for the right moment to bubble up into my consciousness so I could reflect and hopefully heal some old limiting beliefs. If only there was a way I could have programmed that episode on a day other than Valentine’s Day.

Am I now some love guru that has healed and doesn’t overthink when a guy doesn’t text her back within 24 hours? Absofuckinglutely not. However, although I can’t eloquently articulate why, I do somehow feel better having processed those feelings that came up as a result of talking to him. I’ve come to learn that the situations we initially feel some resentment for, are the ones that deserve our gratitude and attention most.

I Am Not On My A Game But Here I Am

Usually, I have a few ideas of what I could write about that would excite me and give value to my readers. Right now is not usually. Right now, I’m jet lagged. Right now I’m tired, hungry, and against my fathers wise words, I still haven’t taken a nap. Yet, I refuse to believe that just because I’m not feeling like the offspring of Robin Williams and Elizabeth Gilbert, I can’t produce something worth putting out into the world.

I was so close to not even trying to write because I’m not on my A Game. I don’t even feel I have any game right now. If the hottest dude in the world came up to me and asked me out, I would have the response of the dude from “The 40 Year Old Virgin” meets Sleepy, Snow White’s dwarf.

I still have fear that this won’t resonate with everyone even though I know damn well I can’t please them all. There is still worry that this post will seem too short. I don’t like admitting that I’m not in the creative flow.

However, here I am, proving to myself that those thoughts in my head telling me I couldn’t do something now worth sharing is only true if I give it power. Here I am still tired as fuck but feeling like a bad ass boss babe for acknowledging my limiting thoughts and pushing through. Here I am, hoping that next time you try to brush something off that you deep down know is best for you to do, you remember this, and you choose not to give your limiting thoughts power.

It’s times like these that you enhance your ability to push through more easily in the future. Of course you won’t try to power through every time you feel like a zombie from The Walking Dead, and that’s fine. As long as you’re not jeopardizing your well being, and aware enough of those limiting thoughts to take action, that you’ll get that much closer to being on your A Game.

How to Live Your Dream Life

photo-1504194104404-433180773017 What’s your dream? Reads the prompt on the card in my writer’s group. I considered nonchalantly sliding the card back into the deck because it was a pretty loaded question, but I stuck with it, and the results are in.

Find true love, inspire the world through my words and my voice, have a thriving business, healthy body and mind, is that too much to ask? That’s only like 5 things, right? Too bad Santa’s a joke, or maybe I’d see if he could have hooked a sister up with God’s number or something. That dude has connections.

That being said, don’t we all have those connections? The last thing I want to go into is how we all have the answers within, because I nearly gag every time I see someone preach that. However, I kinda sorta maybe know that’s the truth.

“Let Go and Let God” Well either tell me how to fucking do that, or hand me a paper bag to throw up in. I’m being dramatic. It’s important to have dreams, but it’s more important to love what is. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Appreciate the journey. Don’t curse the mountains and roadblocks in your way, but thank them for the experience and extra workout trekking over those godforsaken things. What’s the point of getting a dream, if you’ll just end up miserable that it was so annoying to get there anyways? With a mindset like that, a dream will never fulfill you. It will only intensify the emptiness that you haven’t filled with your own happiness and self love. That happiness and self love only happens in the present moment. It’s not a future dream, but a moment in time. Right here. Right Now.

Now is where your dream life lies. Are you going to live your dream life now by accepting and loving what is, or dream about it coming another day?