selflove – Brooke Lyn Landon

Making Peace With My Enemy

I’m making peace with my enemy. I’m not talking about my friends on again off again boyfriend who I loathe more than pretty much any other human I’ve ever met. Although, bless his fucked up heart, I wish him the best. The enemy I’m learning to make peace with is the one that keeps me from having peace of mind. The one that keeps me up at night. The one that prevents me from consistently living the life I know I’m capable of. A life of unwavering acceptance and flow. I’m learning to make peace with myself.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m freakin’ fabulous. This is not to say I’m not good enough, or deserving or blah blah blah. Yet, there’s a little voice in my head that sometimes whispers “Hey hoe. You should probably start worrying about how you don’t know what country you’ll be living in in 6 months time and what are you going to do with all of your shit? P.S. that dude that you’ve been crushing on these past several months… He’s not that into you. While you think about that, I’ll be creating more content so you can stay up with me for the next 5 hours. Tootaloo!”

Not the ideal companion to have living inside my brain, but it’s what I’ve got, and the only way to make peace with it is to become greater than my mind. I’m going to be so annoyingly conscious, that whenever that voice in my head starts to bitch, I can be like “Yo Karen, the manager (aka me) couldn’t give less fucks, so just relax.” Then, without judgement or criticism (to the best of my ability) move forward.

I said that the enemy that I’m making peace with is myself, but my mind isn’t who I am, it’s who I’ve created. So, I need to make peace with myself for having created that, and focus on being greater than my mind so that I can start consciously creating a new and improved internal dialogue. That dialogue is, and will forever be, more influential than anything or anyone else ever will be.

Our thoughts become your personality, and I’d be lying if my fabulousness didn’t come with a side of stress and anxiety these days. This is a never ending journey, but if you don’t start walking down this path of consciousness and personal development, you’ll likely be stuck with a Karen in your head and Xanax on your bedside table.

Some, if not most people don’t even realize that they’ve created this toxic internal dialogue, and identify with it so much that it becomes them. Freeing ourselves and making peace with that part of us is not an easy road, but if you keep going, it will be the most rewarding path you could take.

The Devil Wears Lululemon

pexels-photo-206515 Whatever we’re wearing, the devil wears too. There’s a devil out there that’s created by you!

Hold back the tears, and don’t be sad. Being a devil doesn’t have to be bad.

The reason the devil is something you fear, is because you’ve pushed away a part of you that is so dear.

Don’t worry if you are a bit confused, because I still have some more explaining to do.

I will show you an example that will make things clear, and prove that the devil doesn’t have to stay here…

I was feeling as single as a dollar bill, and felt a huge void that I needed to fill.

“Why am I still so down and alone, why can’t I find true love with a hot guy to bone?”

The Devil was at it again in my mind, giving me lots of problems to find.

“Something must be wrong with me, I can’t find a man. what am I doing wrong, I don’t understand!”

I thought once I was loved I would feel complete, and there was something within me I’d first have to defeat.

Once again the devil was back to work, and I was being driven completely berserk!

Nothing is broken or needs to be defeated, when I accept the darkest parts of me, I’ll realize I’ve always been completed.

I was rejecting the part of me that felt unloved and undesired, rather than asking that part of me what it required.

All it was seeking was self acceptance and compassion. Was I listening to some devil just because I liked her fashion?

When you push away a part of you that wants to be accepted, you create a large void and you will feel rejected.

It feels like rejection because that’s what it is. The devil feeds off that shit and comes across as a wiz.

Don’t feed the Devil whether it wears sweats or shoes by Kanye West. Give the true you some love because you deserve the very best.

What my Tears are Telling me

A1678493-DAF1-4FF4-92BC-8ADE68B23172 I cried twice this month in the course of 9 days. prior to those episodes, it had been months since I shed a tear. Not if you’re counting things like emotional animal rescue video clips I ignorantly click on my Facebook newsfeed. And no, my breakdowns were not because I was pmsing and they didn’t have any chocolate I liked at a nearby convenient store or some shit. It’s a multitude of things, but when I break it down, it becomes more clear.

You see, I’ve been high on life for so long. Living it up, staying up late, eating shitty but delicious food, and drinking. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” has been my motto these days, and I’m constantly around and entertaining others without giving myself time to recharge. It’s like forgetting to charge my phone, and then getting frustrated at my phone for not letting me check if my bumble match responded when it runs out of battery. I have to take responsibility for the consequences of my actions while simultaneously acknowledging the signs these struggles are teaching me. It’s more than partying too hard and living my best life. It’s my body and mind sending me signals that I need to tend to myself. Change needs to happen.

As I’ve said before, chaos is creation, and there is nothing but beauty in these breakdowns because I know they’re happening for me, not to me. More sleep and more me time is essential right now. The struggle is real now that my internal clock has been completely fucked from this new life, but I’m working on it.

When there’s an ebb in the flow of life, it’s also important to express yourself. To say I’ve been bottling my feelings up like a beer can tossed around by a frat boy would be an understatement. I have some of the best friends one could ask for, but I am not one to talk to them often when I’m far away. Partially I don’t reach out because that entails filling them in on my life. way too fucking much has happened for me to succinctly go through all my crazy adventures, hookups, and questionable life choices. I wouldn’t dare tell my mom when I feel like this. If I coughed or sneezed on the phone, she would probably assume I had dangue fever with a 10% chance of survival, so I don’t want to give her heart palpitations by telling her my mental state has seen better days. The people here listen to enough of my shit, so I don’t want to blab more about how exhausted I am. To be honest, it’s almost like I forgot how to ask or get support. I wasn’t expressing what I needed to in order to feel heard, understood, or supported. So instead, that left me feeling alone, even in a room full of people.

This post isn’t being written so you will reach out saying some “You can always talk to me” etc. etc. That’s nice and all, but it’s more being written as my outlet to get what’s inside of me out. It’s letting the world know it’s okay to not be okay because that’s creation. It’s a reminder to us all that it’s beautiful to have a body that can tell us it’s time for a shift.

Now it’s time to ask how I can sustain this fun and exciting life in a more realistic, healthy way. What practices and self care do I need to implement to have my ebbs turn to flows before the waterworks begin. I’ve done the work to get my answers and am getting my flow back. Now all I need is some melatonin.

My Shitty Day in Laos

I’m on day two of my boat trip to Luang Prabang, Laos, sitting on a two seater bench as stable as my friends last relationship. Of course, I’m next to an Italian man who’s hand gestures alone make me feel like I’m on a rocking horse. It’s a beautiful boat ride full of scenery that pictures could not do justice, yet here I am, after a silent meditation retreat nonetheless, being a little bitch about nearly everything. Heck, a little boy accidentally brushed up against me while I was trying to meditate and I sent him a death glare that would have made a bro from the Jersey Shore feel like he was going to Hell.

I could come up with a hundred contributions to my state of mind. 3 hours of sleep probably being the main source of my misery because everything was peachy on yesterday’s boat ride, but that’s besides the point. The point is even if nothing is your fault, whatever happens to you becomes entirely your responsibility. With whatever happens comes an unavoidable choice and responsibility you have to take on.

I can choose to continue to feel like shit, and that would be okay. Sometimes life’s shit and we just have to wait until the storm washes it away. That said, we also have the choice to open an umbrella and walk away from all the shit.

However, there’s a common misconception and belief that has been adopted by many, even me for some time. That it’s better to think only fluffy, sparkly, happy thoughts to feel better rather than being reflective. One is moving around the issue, and the latter is moving through it. One is repressive and one is expansive. There is no wrong choice, only a different result.

What did I want to do this morning when I looked in the mirror and instantly noticed the toll all of the fried rice and kao soi had taken? Think about how beautiful my curves are, how I’d want to be with someone who loves me for me anyways, and blah blah blah. Look, that’s great, and I certainly told myself those things, but not at first.

Why is my first reaction negative when I look in the mirror? Why am I putting so much importance on this temporary state of appearance? What belief is keeping this thought active? How is this serving me? From questions like these, I can choose how I will move forward with more clarity and awareness. By that point it becomes easier to see it’s all a bunch of bullshit anyways.

If I’m being honest, I feel better, but still shitty. I just want to sleep and press restart, but I asked myself questions so that I can take a step back from my thoughts and not be so identified with them. I’m no longer a victim. After a solid nap I bet I’ll be feeling like the cheery Italian man who’s oblivious to the distress he caused me.

CagED: Living With an Eating Disorder

The only break I got from my living nightmare, was when I was asleep. My eating disorder consumed me. “When will I eat next? What will I eat? How will I be incognito when the lunch lady clearly sees me grabbing my 6th cookie? I already have a rivalry with her, so fuck it. Plus, I can just have Alexis get me more. God damnit, how dare they take so long in the bathroom. The audacity. I need to be alone in there. If only I was thinner… “ something along those lines was the loop that played on repeat in my head.

To think I used to live that way is almost surreal. The severe amount of anxiety and imprisonment I felt in my own body and mind became second nature. The double life I had to live sucked the life out of me, but I couldn’t even tell. I was able to fool myself and everyone around me.

“Wow, how can you eat so much and be so skinny? Do you have a super fast metabolism or something? You’re so lucky!” Said an acquaintance that I reluctantly agreed could accompany me one day. Meanwhile, she only was watching me eat the last quarter of my meal. Although I was thrilled she called me skinny, her even noticing my eating habits made me want to mush the rest of my ice cream in her face.

It was like I was in an abusive relationship with ED, my eating disorder. I didn’t want anyone to acknowledge it was happening, or make me remember that it was a toxic relationship.

“ED is always there for me. ED comforts me everyday. Yes, ED is controlling, manipulative, and causes me mental and physical pain, but I love ED. Id be lost without ED. ED is my everything. How could I ever live without ED?”

Thankfully, my desire to be free eventually outweighed the comfort of being cagED. My passion and dedication to heal and love myself became the key to unlock me from the captivity of ED. I learned a lot from ED, but I’ve learned more by shutting that door, so I could walk through another one that wouldn’t keep me cagED. photo-1507750809133-76dfbb107d68