Flashlight for the Soul

My apartment?

Has Halloween decorations already. Even the front door currently sports a pumpkin welcome sign.

I love Halloween. The spook factor, the decorating, the fun. There’s an atmosphere, a vibe to Fall and Halloween that, for me, is intoxicating.

I’ve loved it since I was a wee mongrel.

I grew up watching creature features and immersed in Halloween joy. I’ve always lived in stories inside my head with the monsters, with the unaccepted and frightening things.

Halloween feels like home.

…aaaaaand so, the celebrating begins.

 

Here’s my reasoning.

Christmas Eve is an actual part of Christmas. Following that line of thinking, September is part of Halloween.

September is, after all, October Eve. And October IS Halloween. Making September Halloween Eve.

Makes sense in my world.

 

We all need something to shake the dust from the joy and creativity in our souls. We sometimes pack it away or put it on a shelf, forget what it feels like to be alive.

Its the little things. The flashlights into the darkened corridors of our rib cage where things hide that we need to wake up again.

Don’t feel silly for enjoying things, even if others find it silly.

It isn’t silly. What brings us joy is never silly.

 

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Dominate and Eradicate Self-Hate

Good morning. 😃

I do hope you are feeling well and know you are loved.

I’m getting ready for work and simply wanted to pop by and remind you that you are fabulous!

You can totally crush this day. Whatever is presented to you – whether new or old hat, easy or something you’re not certain you can do – you can do it.

You are worthy, good enough, lovable, capable, and stronger than you give yourself credit for.

After all life has thrown at you, you are still here and trying. That means you have a 100% success record.

Never give up on yourself. Even if others do. You keep stretching toward your dreams and hopes and never compromise your standards and values.

You are not alone.

We have got this.

Soul Under Construction

I understood myself only after I destroyed myself. And only in the process of fixing myself, did I know who I really was.

– Sade Andria Zabala

I used to think I understood this quote. On some level my soul recognized its truth, and I knew it meant something for me. A blurry old friend I never remembered making but KNEW I was intimate with even if I didn’t recognize their face.

I get it now.

I Have a Better Question

Do you ever feel like a marionette?

The daily to-do’s and responsibilities as your strings?

Only they’re made of steel. Filling up your eyesight and jerking you from here to there. Yet leaving you oddly hollow, skin tight, eyes forcing themselves to stay open through what begins to feel like a meaningless shuffle for a cardboard crowd.

That’s how I feel today.

Tired.

Pointless.

Where’s the joy for life? The promise of something better?

Some days I feel like no matter how hard I try to climb my way out of this revolving door – I’m still here.

Still fighting.

For more.

Something better.

 

What to do?

I mean, we have so many options.

We could always give up, give in. Let depression bury us in a myriad of distractions, mind-numbing things we do because it’s what we always do and we’re just so tired and change is hard.

We could let anger turn into bitter resentments. Become a nasty human who only spreads misery, always has a reason to martyr themselves or explain why they’re not responsible or how it’s someone else’s fault.

We could go the illegal route. Hurt or exploit others for money.

We could slap on a fake smile and pretend everything is just dandy while inside we slip further and further into oblivion. Lying to ourselves.

Or we could keep fighting.

Hoping.

Trying.

Looking for the positivity.

Doing what we can.

Enjoying the little things.

The little successes.

Keep finding a reason.

 

You see, I think we search too much for the meaning of life.

We’re here. I think that’s all the proof or validation that we need.

I think the point is to live our own life as best we can, treating ourselves with dignity and love, and then trying to help others.

I think our purposes can change as we do. But if we’re not really living life, then we’re not living up to our potential.

 

Enjoying life is easier said than done.

I’m still depressed, sitting on the couch, wondering why I bother to write, since I haven’t finished a novel I like yet and haven’t been published yet and simply lack for direction in my life.

But it’s a low day for me. I recognize that. Yesterday was a great day. And the day before that. I’m going to exercise in less than an hour from now and I know that always elevates my mood. I still feel like I’m running on a hamster wheel, though.

The reason I’m telling you this is, I think we can feel so stuck, so miserable, and fight for so long – that it feels like nothing will ever change. That we’ll never fight our way to the top of our own struggles.

But we will.

We already have.

What was so hard to you three years ago that felt like it would never end? Something you’ve conquered?

We’re stronger than we think.

We’re allowed to feel tired and depressed and sick of always having to fight for what seems to come easily to others.

We just can’t let that keep us from living and enjoying our own lives in whatever healthy ways we can.

 

Everything is easier said than done.

There are days where we question the point of our existence. But I have a better question.

What’s the point of giving up?

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Because the Second One is Complicated

Here is the third painting I have done.

I did it while hanging out with mom and watching the movie “August Rush”.

Let me tell you, artists are pretty insanely intelligent. There’s a magic to painting something. It frees up the soul, erases the weight straining it down.

Try something out of your typical creative field. Trust me. It fills you up with inspiration.

And don’t worry about being “good”. Just have fun. I’m no Monet but I’m certainly going to keep painting because of the way it makes me feel.

RePaint Your Lips

Why do we hedge ourselves in? Trapping ourselves in teeny little boxes until we cannot even lift our heads to grow toward the sun, see the sky, or feel our own soul?

Why do we believe the lies swarming in our faces, plugging our ears until we cannot hear our own voices?

The way to know life is to love many things. – Vincent Van Gogh

We are more than one thing, one emotion, one desire, one purpose, one joy.

We don’t need to wonder why we are hollow. Why we are suffocating.

Pick up your own paintbrush, pen, instrument, keyboard, whatever – and repaint, rewrite your own vision.

Stand up. Throw your box in the recycling bin. Live.

Open Up

Some people will tell you, you’re not enough, not worthy.

They are wrong.

You are beautiful. You are good enough.

Open up. Be vulnerable, even if you get hurt. Don’t sign yourself up for getting hurt. But don’t close yourself off from everything real because it risks the sting of a broken heart.

You have an undeniable boatload of potential.

You are eons of life stuffed into a small carry on that people want to stuff in a box and ignore. They’re afraid you’re brilliant.

Be brilliant. Be you.