You are Worth Your Self-Worth - How to build confidence and self worth - Love Yourself

You are Worth Your Self-worth

We  try to force change upon ourselves and others—but change is natural—and nothing natural can be forced. 

I spent a little over a year, maybe even two, fighting myself—or something of the sort. I was in a full-on battle. Literally, I had waged an almost unforgiving, horrendously relentless war against the woman I knew I was becoming—the woman I knew deep-down all of me desired to be. In my spirit rose a resentment toward this woman I had yet to formally meet. Forcibly I was on a mission to postpone her arrival. Some days it felt as if I wanted nothing more than to halt her coming all together. Ironically, I felt that I knew nothing of her. Sadly, as much as I innately desired to see her in all of her highly anticipated grandeur I could not stand feeling her emerging. I loathed watching her from half-shut eyes displacing the me I had grown to find so many comforts within. 

Eventually, I realized there was not much I could do to make myself feel happy and fulfilled until I just allowed myself to simply be—to commit, to leap, to freefall, to find a way to catch myself in mid-air—like a cat—and to land on my feet after all of my shifting, my changing. For my sanity’s sake, I had to make way for her arrival. I had to abandon my complacency.

The Losing Game

Self-worth, esteem, and confidence have been a struggle for me since I was young. Feeling like I did not fit in with my peers left me chasing a reality in which I was either doing too much or most often, not enough. Over time, I began to realize I was not alone in trying to shuffle my many pieces into their appropriate places. Like most wandering spirits—I was never broken or truly ever out of place. My focus was off. Trying to be who I thought I wanted to be, and not who came naturally left me exhausting my good energy. The she who came naturally, I had not planned for. Thus, I resented her. She seemed like too much work—too much to cultivate. She was like a garden left untended—overgrown with weeds.

Truth is, however, trying to be who did not come naturally was even more work—and very self-sabotaging. I found myself constantly drowning in a sea self-conjured anxieties. I found myself competing with a host of uncompetitive forces. The latter left me miserable. I lost my cares for all that I was good at while wallowing in that which could never properly serve me.

Focus on You

The journey back to self-worth is different for everyone, but the common theme is forcing ourselves into spaces too small or too big for us to properly fill. My space is my space. The size, shape, and purpose of your space are the same today as they were the day you were born. Imagine spending your entire life trying to be a superstar when you were always meant to be a highly revered elementary school teacher. You might find yourself depressed, anxious and ultimately unhappy. Do what feels natural. Focus on what comes naturally to you—do that—perfect that. Focus on who comes naturally to you—be that persona—perfect that persona. With the right focus, all else will begin to flow naturally.

 

For more on my own journey back to confidence, self-esteem and self-worth head over to Geiko Skin ♥

Continue reading “You are Worth Your Self-worth”

A Space Called Mother

Somewhere between power trip and power failure I exists—in a cold dark place full of warmth—or heat—I dance like water at my best—like ice at my depths. I still birth.

—9:16 post meridiem, November 25th 2018

Here, I imagine—You feel more at home in my body than I do.

I find solace in watching myself trying to be a good mother—a perfect mother—I found honor in knowing that she still only exists adorned in glittering imperfections. I see her tries—all of her attempts that lead to half actions and whole actions have thus far transmuted into You—ten toes, ten fingers—arm, leg, leg, arm, head.

—10:19 ante meridiem, Masha’Allah, November 26th 2018

I have learned to feed you—and still I am not yet half the mother I am to be—for I have only just begun too nourish your cries for my attention—your restless waves for my acknowledgment—your tossing and turning—your tides attempting to pull from my sea shores a distant touch.

—10:53 ante meridiem, Learning to Love Again

Continue reading “A Space Called Mother”

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A Blog is Like a Marriage

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A blog is like a marriage—you can have a really bad relationship or a really good relationship with blogging. To be honest, mid-2018 I was not really sure if I was going to be able to return to blogging. Some part of me felt as though I had nothing left to blog about—I had nothing left to give. Yet, there is something about having a someone who pours into you, encourages you, and will tell you when you are flat out being lazy or you just have not executed the plan that you have had in place for the past year, two or however long. Having that someone changes your perspective. For me, that someone is Frank—and so I am back. I am here.

I am here because I truly love the art of blogging. If you truly love the art of blogging as well, but you are on the fence about expressing the art in your life—I am here for you too. If you do not have a Frank in your ear encouraging you to live your passion, please allow me to be your cheerleader, your coach and your #1 blogging confidant and fan.

My relationship with blogging has changed a lot—in one way, I feel as though I have plenty to write about. I also realized Frank was so right. I have had plenty to write about according to 60-plus drafts I have written and simply dismissed the proofing process over the course of 365 days. Yes, I have had 365 days worth of just writing. I have notebooks full of content, all intended to end up in this blog space. Yet, standing on the borderline of depression and drowning in anxiety had me feeling as though nothing was going the way I wanted. Nothing I had to say was worth reading.  

My blog is very much a part of my life. Not blogging felt like a betrayal of that part of my life. So for a blogger whose goal is to be as transparent as possible, feeling like you have nothing left to tell your world, feeling like you are drowning in anxiety is possibly the most important thing to lay down before your world of hearts.  

The good news is there comes a turning point. Somewhere along the cusp of licking your wounds and rising from your self-defeat that you realize all you have been going through is something that the people who have read your works for almost 5 years, or maybe even no years yet, should know. You realize you brought them along for every other journey. They have been there for the happy moments, the irate moments, and the blah blah moments. They even know about the I saw a million geese flying overhead moments. Conveniently, I just saw 7 geese flying overhead. You brought your people along for all of those moments. Yet, when you are rising from your lowest point you feel as though you cannot express to them your transpiring. For some illogical reason they could not, would not or should not meet you there.

That is why I say a blog is like a marriage. A marriage requires communication—very good communication, and very few edits. The truth is, a good marriage is raw. There are no cut cards. Everything is laid out on the table. Every hand is been dealt. When you do decide that you want to edit it is not for the sake of leaving something out. Editing is to say I am not being a b*itch or an assholes. I am not going be petty for petty’s sake. I will not just play tick for tack out of spite. Instead, I am seasoning my words with salt, as my Didd’a often says.  

Maintaining a blog and maintaining a marriage, first and foremost, requires love—a selfless giving of one’s own experiences, thoughts and windows for an all-encompassing good. Then there must come a sense of peace. Peace affirms whatever truth I speak through this blog, you—my readers will be receive with and in love. Somewhere in the blog you will find justice. Justice is giving yourself permission to say this is how exactly I feel, and I am not going to change the way I feel for anyone, but myself.

The most important, yet it is almost the smallest of all, is freedom. Once you would achieve the first love, peace, truth, and justice—freedom comes naturally. Your freedom to express yourself wholly in a marriage makes you free. Freedom makes you feel as though there is nothing that you cannot accomplish. Your freedom makes you feel as though there is no sky that could be a limit. Freedom states that outer space is just another world to be explored.  

I love my blog—it is a place of all those things. Yes, I love my blog, and just like my marriage, like Frank and I, it is always expanding, we are always growing—there is no world to be left untapped. Every year there is something new: trials, tribulations, obstacles, challenges, triumphs, rises, heights, and conquests. It is a beautiful thing—a blog is.

 


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We Manifested - Parenthood, Motherhood blog - LoveTrips Egypt English

We manifested…

I did not fear the spirits—restless souls, entities and hellhounds—that roamed about our childhood home in my youth, or those that followed me into love. Yet, I feared the makings of my own restless spirit, my demons, my tribe’s maternal traumas, and many attachments—spiritual ones, mental ones and physical ones. Those fears lead me to fear my greatest joy, one I had only spent countless moons and seasons wishing, praying and meditating upon—a chance at motherhood, a chance at carrying love in my womb and baring a child to crown—a chance many said I could and would never have. I feared my consort having to settle for a life with only me—as if that was not the first and only life he had set out to live when we first sat by those October train tracks sipping on Jamaican Me Happy. I had to give up my fears, my worries, my self doubts, my addictions—all of my inhibitions. We had to throw away our futile man-made cares, let our freedom hang out, and look back to our stars, our planets, our moons and our many aspects—those that had first charted our way—and fall back into us.

—♥Su Hena

 

We Found Love at Rosemont

Stay positive and happy. Work hard and don’t give up hope. Be open to criticism and keep learning. Surround yourself with happy, warm and genuine people.

—Tena Desae

Yeah, so I’m pretty sure we took the titles Lord and Lady of the Manor to a whole other level for our anniversary/my birthday getaway, but could there have been a greater display of wealth and splendor?¿—and no—I do not mean the opulent staircase, Grand Portico, or majestic grounds of the Historic Rosemont Manor. No, while all of the latter is surely breathtaking, I am speaking of the hearts that move about the manor, center stage and behind the scenes—those who host the elegant tea parties, tend to the stately grounds, prepare and serve the delectable breakfast dishes, maintain the cleanliness of such an immaculate estate—and even those with fur and glowing eyes that scare the heebie-jeebies out of you in the midnight hours as you travel through the gate after a charming dinner in Old Town Winchester. Yes, I am speaking of the hearts we embraced which beat like Sioux feet, and embraced us back with love and that “oh my goodness, Sister Sue is the plug” for homemade jam! Yes, my loves, four months and some change later Frank and I are in still in love with Rosemont.

You know us—we live for love, and we love how we love. You are well aware by now that our art separately and combined is always our highest expression of our love—so even on our anniversary we loved so hard and made the most of our time. Some days this can be a challenge, but the Rosemont tribe ensured that we could make the most of the one day we had to spare in our busy bee day-to-day. I mean seriously mis Andestagōnwa I got a chance to twirl like a madwoman about one of the grandest porticoes western Virginia has to offer—literally, until I was dizzy—without as much as an awkward side eye. You know you have had an undeniably ravishing time when you leave a place and your only “regret” is not taking your beautiful hostesses up on the invitation to slide across the luxuriously kept hardwood floors…in your socks.

Of course, you will find millions and millions of places all around the globe that would make for wonderful wedding venues, tea parties, one-night stays, and humble vacation getaways, but when you find a place that comes jam-packed with good energy and good people who simply love to love, and enjoy being good company just as much as they enjoy having good company—you cherish them—you hold those places near and dear to your heart. You remember them, do your best not to forget them—and you show them off, because you desire the world to see that it does not take cookie cutter people, yes men or people who you have known for years and years, or those who you are sure share your every belief, viewpoint, favorite dish, opinion or taste in fashion per se. No, it only takes people who are willing to love just as much as you are willing to give this world a blossoming future. Rosemont blossoms. Spring has sprung, Summer has budded and despite Autumn swiftly approaching, we can be certain Rosemont is still buzzing and will still be buzzing with love come Winter snowfall.

So, where will you be having your next spot of tea my loves? Where will you unwind in your next luxurious bubble bath? Where will you tie the love knot, if not in and around love?…

My Favorite Spot: Eh, everywhere was divine! but definitely the Grand Portico for its sublime views, the Einstein Room for its quietly complex Einsteiness, and the Kennedy Suite—I simply adored the painting of Lady Kennedy! ^_^ #sayidorosemont. Continue reading “We Found Love at Rosemont”

The Fool In Me - LoveTrips ™ the BLOG - Egypt English

The Fool in Me

If my life is my message…what kind of message am I sending?

Tarot Teachings


I do love myself—enough to fear nothing. I release all judgments of myself and all others. Thus, I will and I shall live, give, and I shall build. My practice is my adventure—my life, this journey, is my practice. And although I seek the bounty and the beauty that is the rose, I shall not fear its thorns. I will regard each prick as a lesson to be learned—each scar, a badge of honor earned.

With all of my love.

Continue reading “The Fool in Me”
1994'ish - My Loc Journey - Natural hair locs dreadlocks

Country Flowers


I come from the land two turns outta gutter swamps, still got bullet holes in SUVs tho—pull up to the famly’union liable to find deer, pig, frog legs, a bite of squirrel and some gator from who tha’fxcks backyard is this, muhnegus we got these roun’here? right next to great grandmal’s good ol’ con’bread and cawlud greens.

#avegansnightmare ♥ #truestory

Bag Lady's SugarHoneyIceTea - Free Relationship Coach, Lifestyle Blogger

The Bag Lady’s SugarHoneyIceTea


Got my hands on an authentic vintage Gucci bag once. A nice one too—a collector’s steal—a connoisseur’s dreams

but really wasn’t my type of, you know, flavor—couldn’t satisfy my sweet tooth... Eh,

so I parted with it three days later for decent enough amount of fiat.

I know, I know—some may say girl you’awholefool out in these streets…well, to each her or his own custom pile of rocks to kick…

I know my own speed of light. I bang hard with my own style. I like the conversion rate of USD to Pesos

—and this Rosetti backpack for that Burlington price tag… let’s just say life was officially given bi.

#thesimplethingsinlife

Wicked Ways - Egypt English - Love & Life Coach

This sh¡t ain’t kashér and you know it…

Vows are not made to be broken…

but—we are humans, fickle creatures…we break them. Some we break unintentionally, some we break to save, as if it needs saving, grace…and some we break simply to keep from having to reveal our demons to none other than ourselves. I broke a vow I made to you, because of the latter—I simply could not be transparent with you, so I hid from you…but only the part of you that reflected me…I hid from your eyes, and yet your hearts still beat in my chest.

Even in hiding, I could not escape the sound. I could not stop my feet from dancing to those beats you conjured—and though, my mind still raced as brilliantly as a million thoroughbred stallions, my spirit stalled out a time or two, and my body backfired…my bones cracked and ground bone on bone. I chipped a tooth. I stained a few. Part of me became so seemingly complete with the thoughts breathing as good mother Dickinson had, and part of me grew sick of dancing in my own eerie shadows, dropping baskets of treats from gloomy windows. Slowly,

hesitantly,

I set aside my peace pipe because I am learning time slows down much faster when it speeds up—like interdimensional travel, shifting, bending, transmuting from one black space to the next without the blinking of an eye. I am home again. Please allow me to rest my head upon your hearts once more.

Signed,

A Letter to Those Who Traveled this Wicked Path with I

Continue reading “This sh¡t ain’t kashér and you know it…”