There are so many topics I want to cover that I’m at a frozen standstill. Lol
For years I prayed to God for a loyal, witty, loving guy. He delivered. My son is now 10 ♥️🙌🏻👨🏼💻
If you check out my Periscope replay, you’ll hear me talk about hitting “Max Capacity.” It’s our limit for life’s B.S. Check out my personal chats on Periscope.tv
If I had someone out there willing to listen to me immediately while I had a meltdown in my apartment about the last schmuck that wasn’t worth me, I would have been able to condense my breakup recovery into half the time. And while I could research a thousand articles, what good was it when I barely found anything even remotely related to my situation?
That’s why I’m broadcasting live. Starting with Periscope, I’m giving you a possibility to communicate one-on-one with someone who’s been there multiple times, and knows how to heal quicker than ever. Healing after a breakup is a science, and I’ve got it down.
With Periscope, you can enter anonymously if you want, listen, or ask questions and make comments – without others making you feel like… well… a dumbass. And I’m not only helping women here, I’m – ironically – helping a lot of guys too. In my friendly, everyday, sweet, purdy New York style. Okay? Eh? No sweat. You got this.
Check out @1YearOfSingle on Periscope. Live Broadcasts Thursdays at 10pm and Sunday’s 10pm (ET).
🌸When I’m single, I feel more free. When I breakup with someone – even when I broke up with my parents – my first thought has always been “What can I do now that I haven’t been able to do before?” Sure, it shouldn’t be that way, but you’re dreaming if you think your partner likes everything you do (or likes to do everything that you like to do). We’re human – it’s simply impossible. And who would want all those similarities, anyway?
So in that vein, I introduce the Mismatch Underwear Theory – or M.U.T.. It basically is a symbol of freedom. I feel freer to do what I want when I’m single – like wearing mismatched goods. Hey, it’s just my thing. Another example: I watch more girlie movies. Another example: I eat Java Mocha Chip for dinner. No biggie.
Make a good point about your Mismatch Underwear Theories below OR Singledom theories below – or at my Instagram (link below) and I just may add you to my bog, or mention you in my upcoming Live Broadcasts! 🌸🙌🏻🌸 Bam! -1YOS
🌸When I'm single, I feel more free. When I breakup with someone – even when I broke up with my parents – my first thought has always been "What can I do now that I haven't been able to do before?" Sure, it shouldn't be that way, but you're dreaming if you think your partner likes everything you do (or likes to do everything that you like to do). We're human – it's simply impossible. And who would want all those similarities, anyway? . So in that vein, I introduce the Mismatch Underwear Theory. It basically is a symbol of freedom. I feel freer to do what I want when I'm single – like wearing mismatched goods. Hey, it's just my thing. Another example: I watch more girlie movies. Another example: I eat Java Mocha Chip for dinner. No biggie. . Make a good point about your Mismatch Underwear Theories below OR Singledom theories below in the comments and I just may add you to my bog, or mention you in my upcoming Live Broadcasts! 🌸🙌🏻🌸 Bam! -1YOS
It’s so easy to disregard progress we’ve made when we’re still on a journey to a specific destination. But if we look back at the progress made, we realize how much of a struggle it was, how much work we’ve done, and we should really be proud instead of disregarding it. So no, we may not be where we want to be-but we’re certainly not where we were yesterday.
Keep working on your goal – tomorrow you’ll be even further along. Do not give up! Do not give up. Keep going. Don’t look down. Eye on the prize, my friends, eye on the prize.
Let’s talk about the fear we have in relation to IF we succeed. It’s real. We feel like we need to have solutions before the problems even present themselves. That’s not good. If you’re fearing success, but you’re working through it anyway, comment below.
#success #overwhelming #whatnow #changes #doit #quoteoftheday #1Yos #1Yearofsingle #quote #quotes #whatif #whatifs #truth #help
I can tell you countless cases when the Law of Attraction actually worked for me. The first time I realized I was actually using the Law of Attraction was years ago when I was watching the movie The Secret. I was in shock as I watched. All the experts in the movie were explaining the best methods of using the Law of Atraction, and I was thinking, “Oh my God, that’s exactly what I was doing in college!”
In college I would lay down at night and think about the best day I could have. Sometimes I would imagine the most outlandish success possible. Ironically, just as the experts in The Secret did, I called the events of those years “magical” because I was pulling in sucess left and right. I had no guilt about deserving success – I just imagined it for fun. Little did I know that it was considered the laws of the universe.
You may choose to think it’s all B.S., and that’s fine – sometimes it feels “hokey” to me too. But if you’ve had back experiences your entire life, wouldn’t it be worth trying something new?
Last year I imagine having the love of my life. This year I have him. Oh my God.
Friday! ☀️🎉 For some of you, it’s Summer Friday. You slept in, grabbed your beach bag and left your laptops at home. For the rest of us, it’s better commute times and ample parking. Either way, your best bet for a good day is staying positive, and looking for the love in your day. List the positive things about YOUR day below! 👊🏼❤️👍🏻
My parents. They seem to be the never-ending cause of stress in my life. As the years move on, I’ve been discovering the full scope of how disturbed they really are. This encompasses both my mother’s insatiable desire to f!ck with people’s lives, and my father’s inability to either help the victims or control my mother.
This is all still occurring despite not having any contact with them for years now.
My mother controlled what my father thought. “Oh, it’s okay she hates me,” she would say breathily, patting her chest dramatically, “I’ll just make them more chocolate chip cookies and see if that helps.” This would infuriate my father for two reasons: He actually knew she was being manipulative, but he also hated to see her (supposedly) hurting and making more of an effort. Yet, despite temporarily being able to call her bluff, he eventually fell into full submission of her passive-aggressive control and fought battles for her. (I’m assuming he was hoping the victims would comply so her manipulation would end. But it never did. She just moved on to new victims.)
Part of my mother’s control tactics was labeling people. “She’s the smart one, it’s a shame she doesn’t use it,” or “She’s the heavy one – she was always a little jealous.” When I was around four-years-old, I was labeled the liar in our family, and my parents persistently attached it to me for years.
Recently I was thinking about the absurdity of the label, wondering why they chose “liar.” Repeatedly I recalled being hit for ridiculous things: making too much noise putting pots away, not eating dinner quickly enough, having a “fresh” mouth (what kid isn’t a little fresh every now and then?) I soon realized I probably did lie – in order to not be hit anymore, because I distinctly remember denying I broke things to avoid beatings. (The beatings were the type that made you huddle in a corner screaming, “Stop! Daddy stop hitting me! Please, Daddy! Daddy, please! Daddy, stop!”)
So yeah, I lied. The lying didn’t help though – obviously – I was still beaten.
Nowadays, because I’ve disassociated from both parents and two sisters, the only way they can hurt me is through my son or my reputation. I hear from my son how they gossip – even about others who are still in the family. Just the other day I learned my mother has been spreading rumours that one sister is an alcoholic. It shocked me to hear this, considering the target – my eldest sister – still speaks to my mother religiously. But as unfortunate as it is for that sister, it validates my theory that even if I remained “in the family” I’d still be shredded by my mother (with a soft voice and gentle chest pats like she, herself, is fragile and deserving of gentle care).
(After all, the soft voice must prove she’s telling the truth, right?)
I now realize it’s useless to defend myself, prove my innocence, reconnect or even vocalize disgust. My mother will still mess with me. And so I’ll let her assume I am whatever she concocts. And that’s fine. Cause I’ve finally come to the conclusion – and labeled her – as a sad, sick, pathetic woman.