The Old Payton (And Why She's Never Coming Back) and Unanswered Prayers

Hey, readers!

Wow! I am so blown away by the responses to my last blog. I feel that being open with you guys is a step forward in my recovery, and discovering my authentic self.  Thank you for every kind message, email, and more. I really appreciate it.

Like I said before, I have a birthday coming up the first week of September.  (The 5th for anyone who cares. Also, I like glitter, money, and things with dead rockstars and arrows on them) Birthdays are a time of reflection, reexamination, and rebirth for me.  I took my sweet little fur baby for a walk today and as I watched him scamper along, I thought of all the joy he has brought me these past few months, and how he has been a huge step in my healing process.

Two of the biggest joys in my life the last six months: Yoga, and Arrow!

I had a thought as I watched little Arrow take ME for a walk.  I remember crying into the shoulders of my loved ones over the last few months about "This is not the way my life was supposed to go...This isn't what I had planned..." I even managed to make a few new friends during this process, and I remember telling them "The Old Payton is much cooler. You would have loved her." Meaning, that the person I was before going through times of trouble was much more carefree, and didn't break down in tears at the drop of a hat, didn't want to spend days on end watching Oprah in bed, and certainly was more attractive because her waist was smaller than New Payton.  As I watched Arrow sniff his millionth bush, I had a realization.  Old Payton is never coming back.  And thank God for that!

This is my walking the dog outfit.  What? The shoes are only four inches tall. My friend Yamel even sketched this snap of us! 

The Old Payton didn't have a network of friends who unconditionally loved her. She had a group of people who sucked the life out of her.  Sure, there were gems sprinkled in there that still sparkle to this day, but the dull, mean ones have fallen by the wayside.  Old Payton didn't have the love of her life, Mr. Arrow to be her companion everywhere she went. Thank God for Arrow. Old Payton didn't take time to do things that made HER happy, instead she did what made everyone around her happy...and sacrificed her happiness, and her health for them. Old Payton didn't listen to her heart.  New Payton knew that she needed a break, and gave herself one.  Old Payton beat herself up for her appearances.  New Payton is learning to be better at accepting her body, and being grateful for it.  And so on and so forth.

Old Payton would never let anyone else photograph her in a bathing suit (and even New Payton makes it like pulling teeth, but obliges anyway.)

There is an old expression "Thank God for unanswered prayers." and I never really understood the concept of that until now.  If my life had gone the way I planned it a year ago, I would be pretty stagnant, pretty miserable, and bored out of my mind...not to mention still depressed, angry, and lacking in faith.  I wouldn't have Arrow, I wouldn't have started my yoga journey,I wouldn't have people in my life who are so crucial to my well being. Over the past six months, I have collected some of the most loving, non judgmental, nurturing, and most vital people in my life.  I don't know how I survived without them, and don't care to know how my life would be otherwise.  These people came into my life for a reason, at the right time, held my hand, let me cry on their shoulders, fed me, and took care of me when I couldn't do it for myself.  They saw the spark of light that was hidden under all the darkness and sadness that had tried to snuff my glow out.

If things had gone my way, I wouldn't have spent this spring/summer on both coasts of this country.  In a matter of three months, I've strolled Venice Beach, and the Jersey Shore.  I wouldn't have had the opportunities in my career that have blessed me so much, the new perfect job that has manifested itself with my hard work and faith, and the biggest of all? I wouldn't have felt happy.

Jersey Shore last month, visiting members of the Rock N Roll clan who make my life better by just existing.

For me to say the words: "I am happy." is a huge step.  After spending nearly two years of settling, of waiting on other people to reach their full potential, I realized that I was dulling my shine to make others more comfortable.  The other day, I was driving back home from the job interview I had just nailed.  The most perfect job.  The one that I had dreamt of something like it existing for years.  The windows were down, and the Stones were on the radio...and that's when I felt it.  It started in my toes, moved up through my legs, my belly, and finally to my heart.  Butterflies.  I felt bliss.  For the first time in nearly two years, I felt bliss.  I wasn't worried, or fearful, or trying to convince myself of anything. I felt at peace.

I felt like my sweet boy on the hottest day of the year in a kiddie pool full of ice water. 

I pray a lot more than most people would think a girl who doesn't believe in church would do.  I pray every morning when I open my eyes.  It usually goes something along the lines of "Thank you for allowing me to wake up.  Thank you for the love that surrounds me.  Thank you for the dog that woke me up in the first place.  Thank you for the food I am about to eat.  Thank you for the clean water, the electricity, and the healthy body you have provided me with..." and then followed by the list of people I want to have a great day.  I've done that every day for nearly the past six months.  I've learned to stop being specific for what I think I need.  "God, if you could only make him..." or "If you could make this happen for me..." is bargaining.  I realized, you can't bargain with the Creator.  I even had a terrible night...the first night in which I had so much to drink that I threw up, and I remember bargaining with God that if he would spare me any more pain, I would never drink that much again.  (So far, I've held up my share of that bargain) But instead, have unwavering faith.  Even with my bank account in the negative at one point, I knew deep down that I was going to be provided for.  Even when I was on E in my gas tank, and the fridge was bare, I knew I would be fed, and taken care of.  And I knew that when I felt the time was right, I would have the perfect job laid out in front of me.  It was once I stopped bargaining, and trusting the Creator was always going to know what was better for me than I did, that I started receiving the knowledge and wisdom I needed.

It's hard to not feel grateful when you wake up to this hugging your arm. 

Thank God for unanswered prayers.  Thank God that Old Payton isn't coming back.  Thank God for rebirths, and new beginnings.

And Thank God for Arrow. :)

An Open Letter To My Body:

Hey, readers.

As you read in my last blog, I am going through a transformation this year.  I am coming to grips with things that need to be...well...gripped. This year has been one of nothing but change, and it has taken its toll on my body.  This time last week, I spent half an hour poking and prodding at myself while looking at my reflection and cursing.  "I hate this. That is too big.  This is too small. Why don't I have a torso?" and so on and so forth.  And that's when I realized, I was a bully.  I was a body shaming, fat phobic bully.  I was no better than those trolls on the internet who hide behind computer screens and make fun of people.  As a handful of you know, I have my fair share of issues with my body.  One being an ever so slight case of BDD.  Meaning, I look in the mirror and don't see what other people see.  This, oddly enough, is why I got into modeling.  I trust a photo, but not a mirror.  (This is why most of my friends who see me get ready know that I always take a photo.  The camera doesn't lie.) The ritual of beating myself up has become as commonplace as brushing my hair, or putting on makeup...And that's when I realized I owed someone an apology.  That person was me.

Dear body.

Hello.  It's me.  Before you start thinking this is just going to be me singing a Todd Rundgren song at you, it's not.  I believe we need to have a word.  And by a word, I mean two words.  I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a complete and utter asshole towards you.  I'm sorry for hour after hour spent in front of the mirror poking and prodding at every inch of you.  I'm sorry for not trusting that you were enough.  I'm sorry for the hateful words I spat out at you.  I'm sorry for calling you fat.  I'm sorry for wanting to change you.  I'm sorry for every meal I followed up with a scoop of ice cream because it made it easier on me to throw up entire contents of my already terrible meals.  I'm sorry I harmed you...I really am grateful for how well you healed.  I'm sorry for sleeping in my makeup.  I'm sorry for the days of starvation.  I'm sorry for the nights of binge eating.  I'm sorry for the years of Diet Coke abuse.  I'm sorry for not treating you like the sacred vessel you are.  I'm sorry for letting people who didn't worship and adore you touch you.  I'm sorry for letting society's idea of beauty creep in my mind and make me think less of you because you weren't photoshopped and perfect. I'm sorry I didn't value the strong, long legs you have, which has made my spiritually uplifting practice of yoga much easier.  I'm sorry I took for granted the ears you have that helps me listen to my music which brings me so much joy.  I'm sorry I make fun of your eyes for not working properly.  I really am grateful that you cooperate with my glasses and contact lenses so well so I can see the world crystal clear.  I'm sorry I criticized your stomach that protects all of my vital organs.  I'm sorry I criticized my wide hips...I do hope that one day they will make childbearing easier on me if you'll allow it.  I'm sorry I begged for thinner arms.  The ones I have now hold me up in some of my yoga poses, and allow me to cuddle my sweet fur baby, Arrow, and hug my wonderful friends.  I'm sorry I have criticized my nose.  It really isn't that bad.  I'm sorry I've spent years trying to hide that beauty mark under my right eye, calling it an eyesore.  I'm sorry I haven't owned the fact that I have stretch marks...when really they are only from growing so tall so quickly, and that's nothing to be upset about. I'm sorry I spent years hiding under sweatshirts and baggy pants because I was so embarrassed about you.  I'm sorry I complain every time I get a cramp during those times of the month, when really, I should be celebrating that I am finally healthy.  I'm sorry I have taken all of the beautiful gifts of health that you are for granted.  I'm sorry for the last year that I have put you through...I'm sorry for all of the stress, anxiety, toxins, and negativity I poured into you, and the trauma I invited in with open arms.  And I'm sorry for not thinking that you are as beautiful as you really are.  

Can we make up? Do you forgive me?

Signed,
Your spirit trapped in you, Payton.

P.S. This was you two years ago, and then you last week. Don't forget how far you've come. 

Readers, I recently joined a Body Positive page on Facebook...Create Your New Self...full of women who were on the verge of drastic weight loss changes.  Two years ago, after going vegan, I dropped a significant amount of weight, and went from a size 14 to a size 6.  After the year I just went through, and all of the stress I had experienced, I found out I had adrenal fatigue...basically, my body has had enough of the stress hormone pumping through my body, I eventually wore it out.  This causes mood swings, depression, anxiety, and weight gain.  So much of my weight loss journey was in hopes of finally feeling worthy....finally being able to look at myself in the mirror and seeing what I have always wanted to see.  After going through this strenuous year, I gained some of that back.  I felt lost, hopeless, and like my identity was being stolen from me.  I was Vegan-Payton-Who-Lost-50-Pounds now...not just Payton.  It's still a struggle every day to wake up and like myself. I think a lot of it is programming from society...we are taught if we love ourselves, it is narcissistic...when in reality, obsessing over everything wrong about you is narcissistic.  It becomes all consuming, and that's when things start to turn for the worst.  Did you know that the average woman is bombarded with 400 ads a day for products that will make her more attractive? Now, don't get me wrong, I am all about some glam as much as the next girly girl, but I think that's a little extreme.  We can't help but turn the pages in our glossy magazines and see a perfectly photoshopped model or celebrity and sigh.  I'm guilty.  It's what women do.

I had a moment today in shoulder stand during my yoga practice where I had an "a-ha!"Now, in shoulder stand, you're on your shoulders, balancing everything else up in the air.  I saw everything.  I saw my sparkly toenails, my calves, thighs, my stomach all bunched up on itself...and I guarantee anyone that walked in the room would probably have found it unattractive. I most certainly did not look like the gorgeous instructor on my DVD, but I had a moment of clarity.  My body is literally supporting itself.  No one is doing this but me.  My body is standing on its own without help from any beauty product, makeup, or another human being.  And that's when I realized that it was beautiful.

What would you like to say to your body, readers?  Would it be about your stretch marks that are your battle wounds from bringing your children into this world? Or your laugh lines? Tell me in the comments below. I urge you all to do the same.

And just a reminder:

And I wish I could send Babs to tell you every single day when you look into your mirror:

Love you guys,

P

Dear Inner child,

Hi, readers!

As some of you know, I have a birthday coming up the first week of September.  Most use the beginning of a new year to reboot and start fresh.  I, however, like to use birthdays as a time of reflection, growth, and to check in with how far I have grown in the last year.  I have alluded on here before to some of the difficulties I have faced this year.  When you research the number one stressors: moving, job change, loss of loved one, breakup, financial struggle...you name it? I've had it. And so, this was the time where I thought "Right, time to fix this.  Time to take some time to restart my system." And so, I've gone through what I call "Granola Therapy"

Now, Granola Therapy is basically what I use to describe everything I am doing in my healing journey.  Yoga practice, journalling every day, speaking with an actual therapist and healer, studying psychology , diet, and finally attempting to get meditation under my belt.  I can now successfully touch my toes, avoid gluten at all costs, and have journal entries that are notes upon notes of my readings that have titles like "Psychosomatic Illness caused by Porous Ego Boundaries due to Narcisstic Parent" and many more. I'm treating my healing like it's a full time job.  Mind. Body. Spirit. 

In this process of my Granola Therapy, my therapist figure told me that all of us still have an inner child.  Our inner child is the reason we feel useless emotions such as fear and guilt.  The illnesses that can stem from guilt are endless, and include things such as depression, eating disorders, self harm, and on and on.  Here I was, thinking that my problem was one thing, when really, it was something that stemmed back to my childhood! Imagine that! She encouraged me to write a letter to little Payton.  The little girl that still lives inside of me, much like your little self is still in you. When revealing several problems I have struggled with over the years to her, she said it was my inner child, mourning over the loss of a childhood I never had.  The thought struck me as odd.  Didn't I go through puberty? Wasn't I an adult now? How does one go from infant to adult with no childhood in between?  She asked me to pick a time there was a great change and shift into my life.  Write a letter as an adult on the outside, giving advice to her.  It was after I did this, I felt a great cathartic release.  I think that if more people did this, it would help them.  So, here I am, laying it all out for you, readers.  Here is my letter to my inner child:

Dear Payton,

Greetings from your adult self.  I know this is a bit odd to receive a letter from you in the future, but work with me.  And for the record, you'll always be the tallest girl in school, but that's OK, because people pay you for it now.  Also, you have a super cute dog now too, so there's that. I suppose you're wondering why I am writing you, don't you? I know how inquisitive you can be.  I am writing to you to give you some advice on how to deal with some of the things that will be coming your way.  It may get lengthy, but here it goes:

You are not an accessory.
There are going to be times when you feel like your sole purpose in life is to be a supporting cast member around someone else's movie where they are the lead.  This is bullshit. (By the way, you swear now.) You are your own human being who is entitled to your own feelings, thoughts, and actions.  You can dress the way you want to, speak your mind, and don't you dare let anyone try and shame you into believing otherwise.  You are not a prop in a play that stars anyone else.  You are not meant to enrich someone else's life.  You are meant to live your own.

People who love you won't manipulate you.
You're young right now.  You need clear, direct communication.  Anyone who twists words, sulks, or tries to make you feel guilty for not doing things the way that they want you to do them is abusing you.  You may not feel hurt now, but years later, it will devastate you. You know deep down that you're a good girl.  So, stop trying to make everyone else happy, because it will never happen. Ever. Reminder: Guilt and fear are useless emotions.

Your body is not broken. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Also, sex isn't dirty.
You're about to become a woman, P. You're going to be in the guest bathroom of your Dad and Stepmom (or as I refer to her, Stepmonster's) bathroom, and you're going to get your period.  It's going to be painful, and scary, because no one prepared you for what was supposed to happen.  You'll call your grandmother, covering the mouthpiece with your hand while you whisper it, because you will feel that anything that comes out of your vagina is dirty, and shameful.  Not true.  You'll read up on the subject for hours and hours, and be the only eleven year old who knows all about ovulation.  This is where you become obsessed with research.  It pays off in the end.  I promise.  Your body is doing what it was intended to do, and it's a beautiful thing.  Also, everyone who tells you that sex is dirty is wrong.  They've just had terrible experiences.  Just make sure you do it with people that you love and who love you back.  Everybody does it.  Nothing shameful about it. Girls have urges too.  Not just boys. Own your sexuality instead of letting it own you. You aren't a "bad girl" for feeling like a human being. 

People who love you will protect you.
There are going to be a few instances that no child has any business in seeing.  This is where our childhood ends, I'm afraid.  You have to step up and protect yourself, because no one else will.  You may think that people are on your side, but really, they are just using you.  You are working on how to deal with stress and anger right now, little P, because no one was a role model in teaching you how to do so.  But, you're getting better. I wish that I could pop in and take you out of the years you are about to face, because it's ugly.  This is where you establish your worth as a woman, and as a human in general.   This is where you grow up because somebody has to be an adult.  And you do it way too soon.  And I'm sorry you have to see it. 

You are allowed to do what is right for you and feel no guilt about it.
You march to your own drum, P. Always have, always will.  You do things that aren't typical of the suburbia you were raised in.  And thank God for that.  You know what is best for you.  You know what is best for your body, your brain, and your soul.  There are people in your life that are going to try and break down your walls, and try and make you question your beliefs because they make them uncomfortable.  Stay strong. Feel sorry for their ignorance. And know that it is absolutely okay to remove yourself from situations that are painful for your own sanity.  It really is.  No guilt.  

You're so stinking beautiful.
Seriously. When I look back at photos of you from this time, I think of how beautiful you are.  I know that it sucks growing new body parts, and hair in funny places, but you really are.  The boys make fun of your eyebrows, but that's because they live in the suburbs and have no idea what high fashion is.  I hate that when I look at those photos I see a beautiful girl with pain in her eyes.  I think that the pain is only obvious to us, but it's there.  This feeling of not feeling worthy, or good enough because you're not as thin as the other girls, or as pretty in your mind as they are will not go away.  But, I promise you that one night, there is going to be someone who loves you very much who is going to hold you while you cry about how fat you think you are, and brush away your tears as they tell you you're wrong.  For the first time ever, you will feel it.  I promise. So stop making yourself sick, stop counting calories, and for God's sake, stop comparing yourself to that girl from your theatre class, because she looks horrendous now.  (You're welcome :) ) 

Don't lose track of your dreams, and don't lose your faith.
You were whispered to on the playground one day, remember?  You were told what your calling in life was.  Don't you dare ever lose that.  Don't let anyone tell you that you are not destined for greatness, or aren't good enough, or talented enough, or pretty enough.  These people are scared of you, and what you know.  They are intimidated by your ways of doing things, because they make them question their own.  Don't ever, ever let anyone make you feel that you aren't worthy of what you know you were supposed to do.  As far as faith goes? We know that God isn't some bearded old guy who lives in a church building.  We know better. You know there's something out there bigger than you.  You feel it.  Don't ever lose that.  Don't ever stop believing that you will always be taken care of, and always keep a pen with you, because you know when you're deep in ink and paper that that's when it talks to you. 

I vow to do the best of my ability to protect you, inner Payton.  I know that you've been hurt, afraid, and felt like no one is on your side.  I'm here to step up and defend you, nurture you, and make you feel like everything is OK, because now? You live inside of me.  So, chin up, because it does get better.  Also, start eating your vegetables sooner. The stuff you're eating now is why you're so miserable.  

Love,
Payton

I challenge you guys to do the same.  This has been a terribly therapeutic process for me, and has really helped to deal with some issues that have creeped up here lately.  What would you tell yourself as a child?

Love you guys!
-P