For The Visually Impaired

I have been single on and off for over 4 years now. I enjoy my time alone, I think I'm decent at spending time with myself, and more importantly I think, I know how to feel happy. But I like relationships. I like the intimacy of having a best friend whose clothes I also get to take off. I like having someone to go grocery shopping with, and be reclusive shut-ins for a weekend(s), and will listen to me animatedly talk about the magic of Pharrell Williams and will also actively watch The Voice with me. 

It has not quite worked out so far. Sometimes it is hard not to take it personally, to feel like some part of you might be missing or not enough. Recently, after a few dates with a gentleman, I noticed a feeling of disconnect. Are you attracted to me in person, I asked. Something was off, and my reaction was to think, "Jesus, Natalie. Of course he didn't feel that attracted, you were wearing runners, ripped jeans, your bicycle sweatshirt, and your hair was braided back. You put absolutely zero effort into looking nice, what did you expect?" So do you know what I did? I straightened my hair, shaved the hair off my body, put on mascara and a low cut top. This is the same woman who proudly identifies as a capital "F" Feminist and once went on a soapbox rant at work about how it was a violation of human rights and gender-normative stereotyping informed by the patriarchy to require female employees to wear makeup. And what did my straight hair win me? Nothing, the guy still broke it off with me anyway.

So I texted my good friend to commiserate, to ask him if maybe there was something missing in me, and he called me and told me I was stupid. He was right. He said, 
"Natalie, I'm going to preface this by saying this is like one of those bubbles on the side of the TV screen that informs you that the program is for the visually impaired. The bubble says, I've always thought that you are radiant; the way that you talk to people, the way that you engage." 
It broke my heart in the most beautiful way because he was right, I was blind to the most important thing: Was I being seen for who I really am? I'm not saying that this guy didn't see that, but I was missing the point if I thought my bicycle sweatshirt really mattered. When someone looks at you, are they willing to look inside you and see your story? Can they speak your language- the language of dreams? Can they see what it is you shine out? What a beautiful thing to be reminded of.

How are we perceived by other people? Is what we put forward being translated properly? Or is it that the people we've met simply don't speak the language, so how could they understand the words? I'm not interested in what people think of me, per say, but I'm concerned with the honesty in which I can project the truest version of myself. Is anything being lost in translation? Am I hiding, am I guarding, am I hollowing out? These are the things I think about, because I often think people's perception of me don't match who I think I am. Where is the message getting lost? How much is someone's perception of me really about me at all?

Sometimes even physically, I wonder, what do I really look like? I look at myself and I have a really hard time seeing any change. Have I gained weight? Lost weight? Gained muscle? More dimples? It makes me sad when I think of the time that I had probably lost 20-30lbs, and people kept telling me how great and skinny I looked. I had stopped sleeping, only ate sporadically, and was at the rock bottom of an abusive relationship. But people kept complimenting me on how I looked outwardly, and yet inwardly I was decaying and felt like a monster. I wanted to die. I tried. How could they not see how ugly I felt? I remember that even when someone noticed I had lost weight and said I looked fantastic I felt ashamed because it was a lie. I couldn't tell them I was skinny from all the nights I spent awake, crying on my bathroom floor; I couldn't tell them my waist was smaller from the stress of constantly being so afraid; I couldn't look them in the eye out of fear they'd see the truth I was trying to hide.

Look at me. I want you to feel who I am and watch how I move; there's nothing to hide anymore. If you can still see sadness in my shoulders and fear in my neck, I hope you can also see the love in my arms and the gratitude in my chest.

I Watched Furious 7 (This Time It Ain't Just About Being Fast), and Here Is What I Learned

I watched the 6th one a long time ago, and I think I either fell asleep or was sick because it's only vaguely familiar, like a hazy dream you enjoyed but also didn't make much sense and cost you $5.99. I remember something about Michelle Rodriguez losing her memory even though in the 21st century we all know this can't actually happen and jesus this is still being used as a legitimate plot device?!? I actually really love this franchise so I think I may still just be mad over Michelle Rodriguez's character from LOST.

The movie starts with Jason StillHandsomeFuckingRob Statham talking to his bro who's in a coma or whatever. Oh, also, J-Stath single handedly took an entire hospital hostage. Uhhh, he knows they can take better care of his brother if he doesn't blow up all their really expensive equipment, right? Dude, dial it down.

ANYWAY. Michelle Rodriguez thinks her and Vin are lost in the desert because she doesn't remember anything. WRONG. They're at RaceWars! Which seems kinda like Burning Man but with cars and just as many celebrities.

Disclaimer: Even though I have watched every movie in this franchise, some of them multiple times, the only character who's name I actually remember is Han, because he is the gem of this series.

Uh oh! Jason NotTheITGuy Statham broke into The Rock's office and hacked his computer! And he still hasn't dialed it down! This suddenly feels like The Expendables: Vroom Vroom Cars Edition. And then J-Stath blew up Paul Walker's house, and WHAT IN THE TOKYO DRIFT FUCK? HE KILLED HAN?!?! This man is a monster. And a time traveler?

Oh god, Tyrese says to Paul Walker, "Just promise me Brian, no more funerals." That made me sad. 

Captain Ron shows up, and he knows what kind of beer Vin Diesel drinks. He is the Leslie Knope of secret, shadowy, black ops military organizations with a conveniently super sweet garage.

The movie kind of lost me at skydiving cars, but I stayed for Ludacris saying things with his mouth. Get Back is still one of my favourite songs, and also occasionally my alarm clock song when I need to wake up in a fighting mood. One time I was dating this WhatsHisFace, and my alarm was set for an unreasonable hour, and Luda yelling "HANDS UP!" at zero dark stupid scared the bejesus out of said dude while I continued to sleep in blissful ignorance. Turns out WhosHisNuts wasn't a great human being and had crippling interpersonal issues though, so hahahahaha, fuck you, GET BACK MOTHERFUCKER Y'ALL DON'T KNOW ME LIKE THAT.

*Punch dance break*

Hooo, that got intense for a sec. Sorry. Back to J-Stath blowing up errbody's phones, and also their cars, homes, and reasons to live.

Road trip to Abu Dhabi! In a loose plot point the gang fly to Fury Road, Middle East, where Missandei wears a bathing suit, and then everyone gets dressed up and have to steal some flash drive from a prince's car that he keeps in his penthouse where Ronda Rousey is the head of security while Tyrese makes great-bad jokes and then Michelle Rodriguez fights Ronda Rousey and lasts more than 23 seconds. I'm not making that up. It gets crazier, but I don't even want to go there. 

Everyone ends up back in the U.S.Fucking.A and I still don't really understand what Djimon Hounsou is doing in this movie, but okay. Previous to this there is a scene where Paul Walker talks to his movie wife on the phone and it sounds like he is saying goodbye. You would have to be a White Walker not to feel kind of sad at that. Oh and Captain Ron maybe died back on Middle East Fury Rd? I wasn't paying attention. The Rock sees all the fun going down from his hospital window and literally flexes off his arm cast so he won't be tardy to the party.

There's not nearly enough driving, too little gear shifting, some bald men fighting with lead pipe-ing, lots of shooting, more cars crashing, rumble in the Bronx-ing except in LA, and oh my god The Rock just stole an ambulance as his ride to the dance. I feel like this movie has very little consideration for emergency services. Team Street wins!

I got up to go pee and when I came back the power of love had saved Vin Diesel over CPR. Who knew? 

Oh good grief the end of this movie actually made me cry. Everyone is at the beach watching Paul Walker play with his son and talking about him being where he belongs. Ooof. Vin Diesel! First you went and sang Rihanna's Stay, and now this? That was beautiful.

Things I Learned While Sick: Film Edition

To ring in the New Year this year, my body decided to shake things up and send me on a 7+ day vacation to internal function hell. I couldn't eat, things wouldn't stop aggressively forcing their way out of my body, and coughing led to a few Depends moments. It was great in that I could finally be the reclusive shut-in I always aspire to be and spend my days watching shows, but in reality that dream stopped being fun after hour #4, and attempt to hold down food #3. But I sure did watch a ton of stuff, and I still love Beat from Timber Kings. This is the other, much briefer list I wrote (from the passenger seat) and forgot about, while driving to our surf spot with my pal/Wellness Fairy shortly after. A drive I managed to make 3/4 of the way before yelling to pull over so my breakfast could make an emergency exit. I vaguely remember him yelling from the car if I wanted him to hold my hair, but I could be wrong. I think I also went for a big wave that day not because I was feeling gutsy, but because I was too tired to know what I was doing and pull out. I likely fell at some point. I guess I am just lucky I managed to stay awake:

Tim's Vermeer- A really rich man in need of a hobby spends like a year painting a fucking music lesson. I fell asleep. 

The Armstrong Lie- Lance Armstrong told lots of lies and became the winningest of winners in competitive drug cycling. Also fucked Sheryl Crow. 

Korungal- A bunch of American soldiers get shot at, it fucks them up, and then I fell asleep, but not because it was boring, but because the fever inside me had won. They were probably still fucked up by the end though. It was sad all around. Falling asleep likely spared me from crying from start to finish like I did with Blackfish. Oh boy, DO NOT watch that one unless you are prepared to be shattered and have a field of Corgis to wipe the oceans falling out of your face.

The Dark Side Of Love- Russians think Americans are stupid idiots. Their orphans feel the same.

The Interview- James Franco plays James Franco if he had a talk show, goes on a field trip to North Korea.

Jodorowsky's Dune- This is a guy who spent a decent amount of his income on LSD. I also fell asleep.

Yo Elliot! Find the Strongest Version of Yourself

This cat knows what's up. Find your yoga. Transcend your spiritual reality. Keep fucking flipping tires:

Letters To Angie: Almost Not Sick

Oh my love! I like this, it's kind of like we're pen pals, but then also real life pals too!

I am excited about this teeny tiny gift! Is it a pocket vibrator? Angie! How bold! Hahaha. That would certainly keep things exciting on the job. Maybe too exciting though.

Right now Charlie and I are on the couch watching the Pipe Masters surf competition on TV. I can't wait to get back in the water! The internet is saying that there should be waves all this week, YESSSSSS! I better get healthy quick, because sick or not I will be in the ocean.

It's funny to think of how so much has changed since moving here. I can't imagine my life without surfing now. It changed everything. Much the same as I can't imagine my life without you. Both are like pieces of light that have been threaded through me, making me brighter and more resilient, especially when the sky turns grey and dark. You are my beacon.

Anyway. Nap time.

Natalie

Love, No Matter What

It's so easy to get stuck in the ego, to get hooked on where we've been wronged and who's hurt us. I have such a hard time with this. Someone hurts me and I want to call them out and tell them how they've wronged me and make them feel bad and make me feel right. I want them to understand how inconsiderate they were and how it made me feel. Peel that back a few layers and you'll find that what I'm really getting at, is that I want to matter to someone. I want to matter enough for it to change. Our ego tells us it's about what we are or are not, what we did or didn't do, it tells us it's personal when so rarely it actually is. In the midst of heartbreak, there's a bigger picture to be seen.

Can you still love even when everything is falling apart? Can you love, no matter what? Even when you feel wronged and hurt and stood up and let down and angry and slighted and exhausted and just really fucking vulnerable? In order to find connection, we have to allow ourselves to be vulnerable and exposed and be really seen. We have to be willing to let someone see and feel our shadows, and love with our whole hearts, even though there's no guarantee.

To feel this vulnerable means I'm alive. 

If we're going to find our way to each other, vulnerability is going to be the only path. But to get there, we have to move through shame first.

"We numb shame, but you cannot selectively numb emotion. We try to numb fear, shame, grief; we say, I don't want to feel this so I’m going have a beer. When we do that, we also numb happiness, joy, gratitude, and then feel miserable and looking for purpose and meaning, and it becomes a cycle. We need to ask, why and how do we numb?"-Dr. Brené Brown

Empathy is the antidote to shame. Where is shame holding us back? How does it influence our choices, inform our decisions, and choose our words? Where has it shut us down and made us hard? When I'm playing it cool or holding back or acting like I'm bulletproof, I'm not connecting. That's not who I am. That's me skimming along the surface. That's me hollowing myself out because I'm afraid, because to acknowledge the true depth would mean I'd have to be accountable and I'd have to be my best self and I couldn't be lazy.

Don't be lazy with love. Get out of your head. Bring your mind to your body and feel the connection. Stop, listen, and feel. Surrender to the vulnerability of being seen at your core, but fight to be your strongest self, every day. It will be easier to coast, to float along like a cloud. Don't be a cloud, be the sun. Rise every morning, even when you don't feel like it. Shine out, even when it would be easier not to. Open to the light inside you, and light them up too. That's your power.

Those who have wronged you? Send them love. If they've hurt you, it's probably because their own hurt is greater. Let them go, and send them the grace to learn what they need and find what they need to be their best selves. And don't do it from a fucking high horse with condescension. Do it with sincerity and compassion. You'll feel the difference. It will feel like coming up for air after being held under water; it will be both frightening and a miracle, and a reminder that you are alive. Send them love. That's how you stay open and keep going. That's how your heart grows. That's how you connect to vulnerability without it crushing you, and the world will see the truth of your beauty, the magic of your story.

Love, no matter what.