inspirational – Brooke Lyn Landon

I Will Never Try Again

I remember constantly feeling like the chick in that viral meme, looking confused, with complex calculations on a blackboard behind her. I was always trying to figure out what I should do and what steps to take next. On the outside I’m sure I held it relatively together, but inside I was shabby chic without the chic.

When I started solo backpacking the world, I set out with absolutely no timeline or itinerary. Even the thought of trying to plan out all the logistics had me more stressed than Jim Carey in Liar Liar. So, I just showed up everyday to see where the world wanted to take me.

I stopped trying and started being. My being didn’t always know what I was doing, or even where I’d sleep the next night, but life always worked itself out. Heck, I ended up staying in a strangers empty apartment so I could have a free place to stay in Japan. It made for a great adventure and story, but I am now realizing I’m causing my mom some serious emotional distress because she likely has just read about this questionable life choice I made. But hey, I’ve made it this far without really trying, so I must be doing something right.

From the start of my travels, life has taken me to places I never in a million thought I’d be. I never could have planned or tried to make it happen myself. Opportunities presented themselves to me effortlessly. I used my gut instead of my logic and now I’m getting paid to travel the world. Like breadcrumbs leading to a gingerbread house, I’ve followed the path life made for me instead of trying to make a path, and then starving because I had no bread to eat. I’ve made better metaphors, but you get the point.

I’ll never try to get to a gingerbread house though. Why? Because as cliche as this sounds, it’s about the journey, not the destination. That’s because life is one big never ending journey. When you try to find the gingerbread house through forced effort, that evil bitch of a witch that lives in the gingerbread house will stop you in your tracks, and point you in a different direction.

Now don’t get me wrong, some things you certainly need to try to do. Like to get good grades, you need to try, and you need to use your logic. I tried and used my logic to cheat as often as possible, but I made it to the high honor roll every semester, so no regrets. Nonetheless, I had to try to find the way to beat the system. As for Josh Rosenberg, the only person who was always ahead of me on the honor roll, he actually tried through hard work to get those grades. What this post is about isn’t that kind of trying though.

I guess what I’m talking about is getting into the flow of life and trusting it. It comes down to using your gut instead of logic. It’s being instead of trying. It’s allowing instead of forcing.

I’m sure I’ll try again at some point. As much as I don’t want to, it’s only natural to have some challenges that throw you off your game, and make you feel like you need to control your life. That said, I will never try again so long as I can help it.

We Do This Shit To Ourselves

photo-1527018609937-2ab6154b7197 Have you ever thought someone or something else was the cause of your pain and suffering? If you said no, you’re a supernatural freak and I want your number. If you’re a different kind of freak and said yes, you may be surprised to know that noone or nothing can be blamed for the state of your being other than you.

If you were karate kicked in the face by a grown man wearing Doc Martens, your pain is valid because that probably is going to leave a mark. Much suffering however, is created by your own thoughts, which can only be created by you. Most thoughts are about the past and future, which further proves my point that we often do this shit to ourselves.

For shits and giggles, I’ll give you a personal story as an example. For anonymity, I’ll call the guy I was seeing at the time Joseph Gordon Levitt (I wish). I had been talking to Joseph for months, consistently, every day. My rose colored glasses were on my head more securlely than a seatbelt on a rollercoaster ride. Lord knew, I was about to be on one.

One week, what was once a consistent stream of communication, was a sporadic sprinkle of content. I put myself through hell and back worrying about what I could have done, or what could have happened, to create the change in communication. Next thing you know, my naive inexperienced ass sent him a text out of concern and desperation to get answers and clarity. It wasn’t cringe worthy, but it certainly didn’t deserve an applause. The response and series of events that preceded, resulted in my mom referring to him as the devil because he acted about as mature as the boy in my first grade class who made chronic fart noises with his mouth.

It’s easy to point the finger at Joseph for my sadness because he acted like a douche, but really I did it to myself. My thoughts created the unnecessary worry and insecurity. Those thoughts were the catalyst for an unnecessary text. The text made me come across as needy, and insecure, which is the equivalent of me waving around a giant red flag right in front of Joseph’s face. I chose to let his immature ways make me sad, rather than learning from the situation and thinking “Boy bye. I need me a man. This is the stepping stone to something greater. Onwards and upwards.” It takes two to tango, and we need to own up when we step on someone’s toes.

If you point one finger forward, three are pointed back at you for a reason. You are the actor, director, and editor in the play called your life. To be able to make a 5 star romantic comedy, you have to take accountability for your feelings and the creations in your life. If you want a box office bomb, keep pointing your fingers at other things.

Don’t Break Through Your Barriers

Have you ever felt like you’re not tapping into your intuition or your true potential? Like angels are trying to show you the way, but you’re like “Bye Felicia! I’m too busy trying to make shit happen the hard way to hear you out this time.”

Well, I’ve certainly felt that way.

Sometimes I feel as though I’m trapped in a plexiglass dome, and I’m trying to get out with a toothpick. It’s as if this invisible wall of resistance is the only obstacle that stands between me and everything that I want.

Yet maybe its making peace with that wall that will bring me what I want. Maybe that wall is meant to be there. Maybe there is a door that has yet to be discovered, only to be found once I find peace with it. Maybe, just maybe, that wall is an illusion and the more I wake up, the thinner it will get.

I can write about theories for eons, but at the end of the day, the more we try to break through the wall, rather than understand and accept why in was constructed in the first place, the less our problems will find solutions.

Our walls were built to protect us at some point in our lives, but now mine is more dated than my grandparents wallpaper. My mission is to continue to make strides each day to free myself from any limitations or limiting beliefs that hinder my peace. This wall is not to be broken. This wall is to be accepted and understood so that we learn how to be free. pexels-photo-518959-1

What Would Someone Who Loves Themselves Do?

What would someone who loves themselves do? Hustle back to work as though they’re Cruella de Vil’s little bitch because they fear of a coworker thinking less of them? That doesn’t sound like love.

Would they have more disappointment in themselves than most citizens have about the current state of our nation because they’re not some enlightened millionaire yet? That doesn’t sound like love.

Eat a half carton of vegan cherry chocolate chip ice cream, followed by peanut butter pretzels from Trader Joe’s, and a cookie for dinner? I don’t know, I’m still trying to justify that one. Probably not though if I’m being honest with myself.

If we truly questioned if our actions are out of love, we’d find more often than we’d like to admit, they’re not. Before you act, ask… What would someone who loves themselves do?

I almost ended this post with that last paragraph, but then fear rose up like bubbles in a glass of champagne in the hands of a recovering alcoholic. I feared it would not be long enough. I worried someone would take the time to read my work and find it a waste of their time. That’s not love.

Someone who loves themselves would express themselves without fear of judgment or ridicule. Someone who loves themselves knows they are good enough and worthy regardless of the opinion of others. They would be happy that they authentically and creatively put something out into the world to potentially help someone else. That’s what someone who loves themselves would do. So here is my work. Unapologetically, authentically, creatively, lovingly me.

It’s Happening For you

road-man-broken-car-6078-1 The time I crashed my car in Santa Barbara.

The chick who acted like Mother Teresa around everyone else, but was the biggest bitch to me.

The person I had a crush on that I totally thought was a guy until I had already caught the feels.

The text I sent to someone I was dating out of insecurity, causing a ripple effect and ending with my mom referring to him as “The Devil.”

None of it happened to me because nothing does. Life happens for you.

…

Those instances lead to some of my biggest insights. They often come out of your comfort zone, in frustration, or fights.

It’s all happening for you I promise and swear. You’ll be pleasantly pleased when you find the gems hidden there.

Crashing my car lead me to the place of my dreams. It wasn’t at all what the situation had seemed.

I realized the universe will always have my back, even when the process feels like a heart attack.

It’s happening for you, I know this to be true. Before you throw in the towel, ask what it is trying to show you.

Welcome To Hell

pexels-photo-207858 Welcome to Hell. You may be wondering where the hell Hell is. Earth? The White House? The person in the White House? A town? Some mystical fiery land that has a creepy red tenant with hooves? The answer is none of the above.

You’ve been living there your whole life, but let me be the first to welcome you. Welcome to the hell created by non other than you, your mind.

Have you ever heard a little voice in your head bitch about wishing you had done something differently? Or question your self worth? If your answer is no, the little bitch in my head just told me you’re full of shit. That voice is the soundtrack in Hell, and the life you live will match the soundtrack you play. The more we positively change the tune, the happier hell will be.

Whether you consciously know it or not, you’re in Hell. You’ve done it to yourself, but here me out!! because understanding and acknowledging the hell you’ve created is such a critical step to improving your life and making it a little less hellish.

Don’t be afraid of Hell. Make peace with this place. It’s teaching us, and allowing us to grow. Plus, we’re going to be here a while, so might as well get comfortable while we work on our tunes.

The Excellent Choice

Before I get into the nitty gritty of it all, I want to preface that I’m a bit of an Oprah groupie. Not really, but I think she’s the bees knees. Anyways, I was listening to a speech she gave where she told the audience three tips to follow. If you abide by them, you’re basically golden.

The final tip, which may come as no surprise considering the title, was “Always make the excellent choice- Do the right thing.” Now before you say “Duh” and roll your eyes like a conservative talking to a millennial about anything progressive or current, hear me out.

Was it an excellent choice for me to have that entire bottle of prosecco last weekend and say regrettable things?(Knowing very well that I hadn’t had any alcohol for several months prior to that night) Obviously not, if I’m being candid. However, unlike that example, the excellent choice isn’t always clear as day, or as obvious as my drunken shenanigans and hangovers.

The excellent choice may be to lean back and not say anything even though you feel the need to explain or defend yourself. Maybe it’s to not do what everyone else is doing so you can “fit in” or feel good temporarily. Maybe the excellent choice is to sign up for that class or workshop even though it scares you. The excellent choice may be to leave a toxic relationship, even though you still love them…. pexels-photo-236287 The list goes on and on. Keeping that tip in mind has certainly made me think twice in many (though I wish all) situations. Hopefully next time you have a choice to make, this will inspire you to think about if it’s the excellent choice, and perhaps change your plans accordingly.

“Man Makes Plans and God Laughs”

rawpixel-com-191102 Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, the universe decided to show me otherwise. The fairytale I had played in my head of everything serendipitously coming together after flying across the country without a plan, wasn’t going as planned to say the least. Where’s my prince charming? Where’s my lottery win? Where my dream career? Surely following my gut and taking a leap of faith should have brought me some clues by now, right?

Looking at the ceiling, sprawled out on the guest bed of my sisters, boyfriends, mothers house, I wished I could go back home. The only problem was I had no home to go back to. I felt like I had lost it all. Relapsed, homeless, jobless, health was non existent, and my mental health and creativity… What’s that? I forgot what it was like to live because I was merely existing at best. All I knew was that I had to keep going because not doing so would certainly be the end of me.

My mind struggled to come up with a plan of action. A part of me wanted to just stay where I was which would have been the equivalent of an ostrich sticking its head in the sand when a lion is running towards it full force. I decided to take my car that had been shipped from New York, and drive up the coast. I thought certainly San Fransisco or the bay area was where I was meant to be. Surely the fact the Golden Gate Bridge was on my vision board I had made in college was a clear sign that was my destiny! Not to mention, I’d heard its like Manhattan, so I’d feel right at home. My grandfather always used to say “Man makes plans, and God laughs.” If I had texted my expectations about this move and current plans to the universe, God, whatever you want to call it, the response would have been “LMFAO”

My car had seen very little action parked in the driveway of my mothers house as I lived in NYC, and it was clear I had very little action driving recently as I got behind the wheel. “Whoops!” is not the words you want to hear yourself say when you’re driving, but it wasn’t uncommon as I made my way up the coast. I used to drive like a boss, but for whatever reason, I turned into my 89 year old grandmother as soon as my foot hit the gas.

Ready to get out of the car like a cat in water, and wanting to explore, I chose to stop in Santa Barbara for a few days along the way to San Fransisco. With all of the worry, uncertainty, and binging I was doing to cope, It is hard to even recall those few days because I was so in my head. The day before I left however, is a day I will never forget.

Not long before heading to my next destination up the coast, I decided to go to the grocery store to binge and purge again because that’s just about the only way I knew how to start my day. As I made my way towards Carrillo St., it’s as though time slowed down as my foot hit the gas to maneuver around a giant MNT bus. Within seconds, that bus had completely destroyed my car.

Hands still on the wheel, I nodded my head as if to say “Yeah, this looks about right.” I thought to myself “My heads a mess, my car’s a mess. This is literally my thoughts manifested in the physical world.” As I stepped out of the car, I saw people running out of their homes to see if I was alright. I starred at the mysterious looking fluid running from my car and onto the pavement. “So, is there like a number to call for this?” I casually asked the bus driver who had gotten out of the bus to see the damage. Before I knew it, my car was taken away, and I was crying myself to sleep on the floor of someone else’s house.

Follow and stay tuned to see what happens next! Check out my previous posts for the beginning of this crazy journey !

Hippies and Hyperventilating

goashape-61244 (For the beginning of the story, check out my previous blog post!)

Having had only a few months to help my mother with the estate sale, fill up the storage unit, and pack up my apartment, planning my life out once I got to California was like trying to button up my summer shorts in the dead of winter. It wasn’t going to happen. The best I could do was buy a ticket to a festival where I could camp out, in the hopes that the universe would orchestrate the perfect encounter to guide me to the place I was suppose to be. However, what was orchestrated there was no symphony, it was more like a catastrophe.

If Coachella and Burning Man had a baby, it would be the festival I went to. I found myself surrounded by people dressed up like they were about to go trick or treating, with pupils the size of gum balls. Every time I would meet someone, I would wonder if they were the one who would help me get out of this mess some way or somehow. I would check out a good looking guy in the hopes that he’d be my knight in shining armor, or knight dressed like Tarzan on acid. It didn’t take me long to start completely losing it and questioning my choices.

Terrified of my own state of mind, consumed by my thoughts of food, fear of relapsing, and desperation to figure life out, I chose to not experiment with anything that might enhance my state of being. Sober, I meandered around the wide dirt paths alongside the extravagant and colorful tents and booths, full of psychedelic t-shirts, onesies, and leather outfits. I started to cry as I walked across a wooden bridge that brought me to more tents with people laughing and enjoying their lives. A part of me resented them for rubbing salt in my large opened wound, and resented myself for not being like them.

As the sun set, I stared out onto the horizon and felt like I was looking at a real life version of the sunset from The Lion King minus the hundreds of tents. I turned around and saw half naked people drinking and doing drugs, so they could continue their momentum into the night. Having been a sober mess the past few days, I figured I’d join the party and have a beer or two. Nothing crazy, but just enough to give me a buzz and take the edge off. It still doesn’t seem like a horrible idea, so long as something horrible didn’t happen as a result.

Dancing like I had Spanish in my blood, or so I thought, I began to enjoy my time and buzz. Shortly after, I started not to feel so well from the alcohol, and decided to step away for some fresh air. As I made my way around the bend towards my campsite, I began to worry far worse than my mother does trying to make thanksgiving dinner. I felt so sick that I could tell I was about to throw up, but my ego assured me that everything would be okay if I did. Deep down, I knew this could easily be a floodgate for my old addictive behaviors to resurface.

I came out from behind the bushes, relieved that I physically felt a million times better, but that was the only thing I was relieved about. The flood gate was officially open, and my thoughts after that consisted of “uh oh uh oh uh oh” and “There, there, it’s okay. Eat this and you’ll feel better.” … to be continued

A Woman on the Verge of Everything

“Fuck. I can’t believe I ate that entire bag of chips at the barbecue last night, and waddled all the way home with a food baby the size of my ex boyfriends ego. It was nothing short of a scene from the walking dead. At least they were gluten-free. It doesn’t even matter though, look at me! I look like the offspring of a sumo wrestler and Melissa McCarthy before she lost weight. If I don’t eat too much for the next few days, I should look decent by the time I have to fit into my tight dress.” Welcome to a glimpse in the mind of Brooke-Lyn.

I struggled with a severe eating disorder for years. Though at this point one would look at me, or see what I do, and think I’m totally “normal” now, it is clear by my thoughts, that I have not healed that part of me. I’ve dedicated my life to loving and embracing every part of me, and it is time I love this too in order to truly heal and transcend these patterns of thoughts and behaviors. I have been documenting this journey of healing and self discovery, and I’m eager and excited to get this out there to inspire others to take action towards reaching a more desirable version of themselves.

You know the saying “Jump and the net will appear”? Well I did jump, but there was no net, and I hit the pavement. This past year has been like a five star adventure/ drama /comedy movie, even though at that time, I saw it as a box office bomb. I’m ready to bare it all and finish this chapter of my life with an audience, because I’d rather take people along the journey, than write them a postcard once I’ve reached the destination saying “wish you were here.”

Though the journey has just begun, I’ve already been feeling like a mix between Britney Spears during her bald head phase, and Scooby Doo solving a mystery. Through uncovering and identifying parts of my past that I have held on to for decades, I am in the process of releasing myself of that bondage and false sense of self that has been created. It appears as though an eating disorder is about an obsession with food of some kind, but it’s really only the symptom of deeper rooted issues. While I’ve been dealing with the old wounds I have found over the past few months, sometimes I feel like a part of me is dying, but I believe it’s because a part of my identity is.

For me, I think a huge part of my healing process and inspiring others is being vulnerable, expressing myself (with a side of sarcasm), and accepting where I am in this journey of self discovery and love. It may take a few more months, or a year, but this part of me will heal. The deeper I go the darker it gets, but that’s where the best treasures lie, and I won’t stop digging until I reach gold.