How Fucking Awesome

You ever watch a movie and then you get to a part and yell "How fucking awesome was that?!"

Its rhetorical. Cause you KNOW it was fucking awesome.

Cut to... Me, reading my last journal.

Yeah my journal was awesome. I said it.

I always keep a journal.

If you can't tell from this, I love to write. 

I write shit down everywhere. Notes, notebooks, gratitude journals, regular ass journals, planners... I'm writing... All, the, time.

I've gotten to the point as an adult that I keep pen and paper all around the house. No joke. At every end table is a note pad or some kind of blank journal, and a pen.

I fucking love writing so much that I've even gifted notebooks to people in hopes that they too love to get ideas onto paper as much as I do.

So here's a little something I do after I finish a book, journal, what have you.... I read it.

Just like reviewing your year in your planner and giving yourself props where its do... I read my journal.

Kinda the same, but kinda not.

Let's just say it first and fore most... It's embarrassing.

You read your thoughts that are not meant to be seen or shared with anyone else... verbal vomit if you will... and you're reading it back, seeing the ending coming (like the Red Wedding) and you're saying out loud "oh God"... but in this case it's "oh Lauren"... And I feel like I did just get stabbed in the gut. (See I tied in the Red Wedding... savvy.)

What's amazing about this (even the stab in the gut feeling), if you come to terms and forgive the past and don't judge yourself for doing the best you could do in the moment (that shit takes some real time and growth to do... and then you do it and you have to re-do it all the damn time, it never ends)... you might actually learn something, about YOU.

And sometimes, maybe, you might even learn how fucking amazing you really are.

I root for me. I truly do. Like a main character on a show.

There comes a moment where we all look back on past moments and cringe and say "why?!" out loud. (Again knowing the why we did it then... more or less this is all in rhetorical nature.)

But then the good moment comes. Or maybe I've been writing for so long that my past self knows what its future audience (aka me) wants as a plot twist.

While reading my last completed journal... There's a moment like when the babysitter being chased by the bad man in the movie finally grabs the gun/knife/hockey stick (yeah that) and starts to fight back and you yell out loud "YES!". Her moment has come, she stopped running and she fought back. (Yes I read my own writing like that.) I'm a baby sitter being chased by a bad man in a mask. (You following me?)

Back it up. When I first began to read my last journal, I started to feel all the yucky feelings I had in the past. I had to put it down, my book of feelings. Doesn't make me weak, or unable to let it go (the past)... I'm an artist/empath/human who really isn't interested on a Saturday night to relive a painful moment. (Who is?) But I am a fucking trooper who said to myself "don't worry it has a happy ending"... which would be the moment that we are in now. (Wine/Sweats/Comfort). So long story short, I'm not a pussy and I face my shit.

Ok so as the yucky feelings start to rise and I remind myself that forgiveness is allowing an event to be what that event was... I move on, through my epic drama (hahahahaha not really though)... and here we go.

And then it hit me, the moment the author knew what the reader wanted. In bold it reads "THIS IS THE MOMENT YOU GET TO WHEN YOU RE-READ ME AND SCREAM YES!".

What's the Yes?

The Yes is the moment you remember who you are... who you forget you are sometimes. The Yes is the small voice inside that you didn't listen to for so long that finally you give in to and then it gets to have a small celebration that you finally took the wax out of your ears and the smoke clears from your eyes.

The YES is the moment the lesson is finally understood mind, body, and soul.

When did I start doing this?

I started to re-read my journals when I first moved to LA. I had sprained my ankle right before moving and couldn't walk.

In a new city, I couldn't go anywhere. So I unpacked, a lot.

I found all my old journals, starting back from when I was 18.

At 25, I began to read over the vomit that was my last 7 years of life.

Why didn't I do this before? Why didn't I look at what was working and what wasn't working in my life? Why was I afraid of my own story?

I vowed to myself after looking over them all that I would never hide from me ever again.

Our mistakes, they get pretty painful for us. We tend to hide them in a cave of pitty-party-for-one. We love to look at them and judge them. But the truth is, we were only doing the best we knew/could/thought in that moment. Or else we would never learn and grow. Of course our ego doesn't like to see it this way, but I'm here to let you and that little bitch know, it wasn't your fault.

We didn't have a crystal ball to tell us the future. 

But good news is, we do have a time machine to tell us our own past... if we are willing to go there, forgive and accept who we are and how we have built ourself into the now. 

Like someone who doesn't like to look at the food ingredients, if we don't review what we are taking in, what we've gone through... how are we to know how to fix the home we inhabit (aka our bodies) and build it bigger/better/stronger for the future.

Just like I encourage you to look over your year and give yourself praise for all the hard work that you do... I encourage you to look over your own past and all that you have overcome (which in the moment seems like the "worst" bit to ever happen to you. Spoiler alert... you think that way in every journal)... which then you get to be even more proud of you!

Tracking your own progress, making sure you're on top of it... you start to notice yourself going "ok I know what this is" and reminding you how amazing you are and what you know is worth your precious fucks and what isn't. (Fucks = time/money/energy).

You only get a certain"fucking" amount on this planet. Why not look over the "fucks" you've given in the past, and like a boss with an amazing "fuck" budget, reevaluated whats gonna make you say "oh God" or "why?!" and trade it in for a "how fucking awesome was that?!" moment and be the baby sitter with the knife and go after the fucking killer and be the hero of the scary movie?

I say do it!

It's painful, it's exhausting, it's fucking draining to remember your mistakes.

But the best way to stop making the same ones, is to understand them in the first place.

I'll leave you with this, my Grandfather always told me "It's ok to make a mistake, that's normal. But if you keep making the same one, we got a fucking problem."

Don't have a fucking problem. Have a fucking solution.

All my love to you all, 

LP