Poppy Cedes

I recently learned that my personal self worth is directly related to my ability to trust others. In learning this fact I also was able to realize that, through every fault of my own, I allowed my self worth tank to become very depleted.

It’s really much easier to allow my self worth to become very low than it is to keep it maintained at a healthy level. And I know I’ve spent way more of my life allowing my self worth tank to run on low or empty than I have allowed it to be above 3/4 full.

But in order to maintain healthy, productive, growing, nurturing relationships with those around me I need to put in that effort for others, and most of all for myself, in believing that I am worthy to:

be loved
love
be trusted
trust
be my partner’s one and only
be faithful to my partner

To believe I don’t deserve happiness, to believe that those closest to me are really just around to hurt me, will result in them leaving me eventually. Because who the hell wants to live life walking on eggshells trying to figure out how not to upset me just because I haven’t done the work to keep my self worth at a stable level so that I don’t become a paranoid mess in the corner? And it will, in fact, be my fault that I pushed them away. Self sabotage. (boooooo hissssss)

What I’ve learned also about self worth is that it is very difficult to build my own self worth back up, but it’s a lot easier to build others’ self worth with my words. I really do need help from others to remind me of why I deserve good things in my life rather than bad. I normally don’t reach out for help from others, but then I feel so very isolated and perpetuate my feelings of unworthiness.

Soooooo, here’s the challenge: Fill up someone else’s self worth tank. Let’s say nice things about how awesome each other is so that we feel like our existence on this planet is not a waste of space, time, and energy. If you’re strong enough to say nice things about yourself, then do that too.

You can say it in a comment here, you can write your own post, you can make a vlog, you can email the person, you can write tweets, you can post photos, you can change your Facebook status or write on someone’s wall. You could even call someone or write them a letter or show up at their house, I suppose.

And if you really need some self worth but you’re having trouble building it for yourself please reach out and ask for help.

And if this is a big flop and nobody does it then that’s gonna suck donkey balls but I’ll find other ways to increase my self worth on my own, such as: sending myself a gift basket, sending myself flowers, getting my hair done, getting a hot stone massage, cooking an incredible dinner and enjoying every bite, hanging out in a kitten pile (with maybe a Dawggy thrown in ;) on the bed, writing my thoughts and dreams and aspirations in my own actual handwriting on lined paper, telling myself “I love you” in the mirror.

I was going to write this lame post about college essay topics I read about on CNN, how some college students are actually being admitted to their dream school for their answer to the question “How do you feel about Wednesdays?” but I’ve decided not to do that.

When a bad thought comes into your mind how hard do you work to get it out of your head?

Have you ever considered letting it hang out in there, develop, flourish, bloom, expand and explore the depths of your creative mind, just to see where it takes you?

I do this. A lot.

I let myself process events that I have experienced, others that I only know about second hand, still others that I have no proof are even remotely close to reality, and ones that I know for certain with actual evidential facts aren’t the truth.

Why do I do this? Because it prepares me for when the shit hits the motherfucking fan.

No shit has hit any fans, people. I’m just… practicing for if/when it does. It’s what I do. Because I’m crazy. And I like me crazy. So… we stay crazy up in here.

I will very soon be blogging on a much more regular basis but for now I’ll dump my brain onto you.

Happy birthday, Vahid!

On the way to work this morning I almost finished the book I was reading. Rather than being able to enjoy another book down I was sad that I would no longer be in its world. It wasn’t a great book, moved between tenses, both historically and pronounally, too frequently for my taste. When I finally told myself to just please get over this I found the ending to be the best part of the book and was really glad I stopped letting my eyes scan the page as I lamented the book’s passing.

At work I learned that Chris Livingston passed away. I don’t know him and I don’t know what happened, but a lot of people I care about knew him and were very sad because of his passing, and I truly feel sad for my friends because they hurt in a way that I cannot help them not hurt. I can just sit by and say sorry.

Speaking of friends… I was all complainy last week that everyone pulled away from me after Avitaweekend, that no one seems to care about me anymore wah wah wah except a select few people. And then I realized I equally pulled away from everyone who was there and our culpability is shared. So, hi friends. I miss you and am thinking about you a lot even though we don’t get to hang out and party and eat meals and joke about whatever enters our minds.

And there are other friends who weren’t at the party who I felt were slipping away: One, I think, is trying to get me to be the bad guy and break ties. One wants me to be in her life but lunchtime is a very tough time for me to hang out (hi :). One I accused of ditching me but she didn’t and then I got busy and stopped writing her. After I write this post I’m going to respond again because I have stuff to say. Oh, and one friend told me something I wasn’t ready to hear and can’t quite reciprocate, for reasons that go far deeper than anything between us. I just have my trust issues and I try as hard as I can to offer as much trust as I can, but the end result is… a lopsided friendship with people. It’s the best I can do. I hope you continue to love me anyway. And then there’s this other friend who hangs out with me and is awesome and gets cupcakes with me and then she asks me how the cupcakes are and I tell her “I had one, it was ok.” heh. This amuses only me, doesn’t it. I love that I can be honest with her, is my point.

Back to today.

On the way home the same man was on the 4:45pm train as had been on that train Friday. He yells at the top of his lungs, “IF YOU LOVE YOUR FAMILY YOU’LL GIVE ME MONEY *pointing his fucking STARBUCKS cup at you* YOU DON’T LOVE YOUR FAMILY?! YOU HATE YOUR FAMILY?! WHEN THEY DIE YOU WON’T CARE, YOU WON’T LOVE THEM! YOU DON’T LOVE YOUR FAMILY ENOUGH TO GIVE ME A PENNY *throwing a penny at an unsuspecting bench sitter* TAKE THE PENNY, I DON’T WANT IT, YOU FAMILY HATER!” It scares the shit out of some people, but even when he is standing directly behind me screaming his diatribe all I’m thinking is “I really should start screaming, ‘if you love your families you WON’T give me ANY money because you’ll save it for THEM and put food on THEIR table instead of THIS Starbucks fake motherfucker! What, WHAT!’” but I just smile and chuckle and keep it to myself and guard the scared people with my body. It’s what I do. I just don’t have appropriate fear levels for given situations, I’ve concluded.

And directly after Repeat Man we got a new lady charging through the car not holding onto anything screaming that she didn’t want any money, “no pennies, no nickels, no quarters, no dollars” (guess dimes don’t exist in Crazy Town) but that Jesus hates us. Which reminded me that my favorite word for today that I made up but probably already exists is Jeez-ass, which I wrote to Partner in Crime in response to some message he sent me about the sad state of affairs back home within our common location. Cryptic much, yup. But … Jeez-ass! Isn’t that lovely? It is.

It was a rare occasion tonight. Because I was going to the store I chose to turn off my music and walk from the train to the store, listening instead to the sounds of the city so that I would remember to go to the store. When I took out my earbuds I was still riding the last leg of the train and I was reminded why I love the train so much. Perfectly quiet humans listening with me to the soothing sound of the train.

In the store a woman didn’t realize she was blocking the entrance to the store and the hand carts. When she realized she was doing this she scooted herself to the side to let a soldier in his desert fatigues pass by then she stood up and handed me a hand cart. I was so surprised, I burst out laughing, smiled, and said thank you. And then I heard her continue her conversation en español and wished I had at least “graciad” in return. (No s’s. Gracia.)

On the way home I watched a little girl in a tiny little dress and coat skipping along next to her mom while she sang Lady Gaga’s Paparazzi at the top of her lungs. Cutest version EVAR. I laughed out loud.

A little further along my path home 3 teenagers were spanning the entire width of the double-wide sidewalk. I was walking with no earphones toward them with three grocery shopping bags chock full of heavy items and my work bag slung over my shoulder. I slowed down a little bit, but they parted just enough for me to turn sideways through, and as I did one of them dared to test out his manlihood on me by saying, “heeeeeey, Miss [inaudible].” He couldn’t quite keep that courage level going as I pushed through him and his friend to continue on my way. I… think I might possibly be intimidating. In Vermont the only men who cat call at you are your friends. In New York City you’re not A Real Man if you don’t cat call by 12. It’s an interesting culture difference. I wish I had said something like, “nice try, we’ll give it another go on Tuesday *wink*” or something funny but I just spent a little too long trying to decipher what he had said after “Miss”. It sounded like Hershey, but we all know I’m not Hershey. I’m all vanilla and stuff.

The word count was at 1179 before this line. I think that’s pretty good. Can’t wait to see you all more consistently again. :)

PS – Ripley says hi!

My aunt and uncle rarely send me emails, so when they do send me one, even if it’s spammy, I read it. All the way through. Makes me feel closer to them. I love them very much, they provide sound life advice, and I believe two things in my heart:

Say what you want about the title, but read it to the end.

Women have strengths that amaze men…..

IT IS THAT THEY FORGET THEIR WORTH.

Yes, I’m now a geriatric chainmailer, bite me. But I love what my aunt and uncle did for my heart today. <3

I was once told by someone who was supposed to love me unconditionally (but didn’t, couldn’t) that I was not supposed to think I am awesome or say out loud that I am awesome, that was his job. Thankfully, by the time he told me this I’d already decided we just weren’t right for each other and we’d be better off going our separate ways, better off for everyone involved. I can only hope he’s met some other women since our time together who know they’re as awesome as I generally tend to think I am so that he understands a strong minded woman isn’t a threat and isn’t something to beat down until she hates herself for loving you.

But my point is that it’s hard for me to have a day where I don’t think I’m awesome because it makes me feel like I’ve had a maaaaaaajor setback.

I can’t go back to that place I was at, hating myself every day and generally feeling not good enough. I won’t let me. And thanks to everyone who helped me through that day because I truly do appreciate you for doing that. I might be all Beyoncé independent, throwin’ my hands up at ya, but I still need my friends when I feel low. So, awesome job everyone who helped me through, you rock.

To show my gratification I offer you my Chinese Mexican half-black bean, half-chili nachos with extra jalapeño peppers. NOM!

I normally like and love myself, think I’m awesome with chips firmly planted on the side and even a pickle.

Today I looked at myself in the mirror after putting on my cute outfit and said, “I love you.” And the depressed foggy cloud feeling entered my brain. Oh no. “Pull your shit together, you have to love yourself. It’s a rule! I LOVE YOU! … oh, I don’t love you today. Wow. Ok, ok, no, I do love you. Wow. I love you? I love you! I love you! I … feh.”

I’m not sure what’s going on, but I have been having a lot of bad dreams since returning from Florida. A LOT. They scare the fucking shit out of me. They’re hurtful to me personally and always involve people I care about intentionally betraying me, or betraying me and I’m not even a thought in their mind about betraying.

I really don’t know where this is coming from.

And, of course, something happened today where I went from somewhat stable in emotions — ok, so you don’t really like yourself today but there’s always tomorrow — to me screaming at the man I love, things that I never ever wanted to scream at him.

And he still loves me. I don’t know why or how. I’ve never been loved so unconditionally by a man before. It’s hard to accept this. It’s wonderful, but it makes me feel so much shame to act so immaturely to him. I get so mad at myself for taking out my insecurities on him.

And then tonight Mama Dawg said to me “you have a lot of issues!” when I told her how I used to have a stuffed toy eggplant as a kid so now it’s hard for me to eat eggplant.

And I do.

I feel so strong and then… so low. I just was hoping to feel my strength as a woman, as a person, as a pillar of strength. But I don’t feel that today.

I’m just saying it so I don’t forget to love myself again.

Yo, Popstar: I love you!

I’ve done a lot of crying, headaching, nauseating, sleeping, worrying, hoping, and being really sad since Friday.

I heard words I wanted to hear today that make the headache, nausea, worrying, and sadness go away. It’s something I’ve wondered and worried about for a long time (so long, that I actually started worrying about it before it was my place to worry) but never said anything. Turns out, words between people who love each other enough to be honest are very powerful and very healing.

“Smart impresses me; strength of character impresses me. But most of all, I’m impressed by kindness. Kindness, I think, comes from learning hard lessons well, from falling and picking yourself up. It comes from surviving failure and loss. It implies an understanding of the human condition, forgives its many flaws and quirks. When I see that in someone, it fills me with admiration.” — Ridley, lead character in Lisa Unger’s Beautiful Lies

I’m not sure I’ve ever read a more perfect passage in a piece of fiction not based on someone’s life. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be the only great part of this particular New York Time’s Bestseller, but whatevs. These words are my words. I might as well have written them, because they precisely state who I am as a person. If you need to know how I think about human beings, how I’m able to show the compassion I have for other people, these words tell you how I am programmed to think, to feel.

In completely unrelated news, I ordered my Halloween costume from a company that really wants the person who is indicated on the SHIP TO label to actually sign for the US Postal Service package that arrives, but I foolishly put my own name on the SHIP TO of Mama Dawg’s house. I tracked the package yesterday and realized that the USPS had indeed tried to get a signature for the package on (Saturday? I don’t recall, a day I wasn’t sitting on the bench outside the house waiting for a package to arrive in my name, anyway) but left a slip that said “pick up your package at the post office, LADY.” Well, fat chance of that happening considering my Manhattan-bound status during the week, and I actually have to *gasp* work this coming Saturday so everyone devised the plan that I would sign the slip then Hollywood would take it to the post office on Monday and say that I just married into the family (I did not) and that I am his daughter-in-law (well, ya know, I think I am despite the lack of legality, but I don’t think the USPS would necessarily agree), and that I live with him and please oh please give me her package cuz, look, she wrote down the same address as is on my license!

This morning Dawg called me at work… in the morning… on a MONDAY… a very rare occasion, having now happened all of ONE TIME.

Poppy: (cheery but inquisitive voice) Hey, Babe!
Dawg: (serious, stern voice) Hey Babe. Listen. I just got off the phone with my mom and I have to head down to the 104th precinct. My dad went to pick up your package and got arrested…
Poppy: (thinking in my head, “now why would it be the 104? I didn’t go to the 104 when my car got broken into on their block…” and then “OH HOLY FUCK SHIT DAMN I GOT DAD ARRESTED!”)
Poppy (continued): “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!??!!?!??!?!”
Dawg: (chuckling) Yes, he got the package. I’ll pick it up on the way home.
Poppy: (hysterically laughing but pissed) You know if that REALLY happened I would have to exit all aspects of your life out of complete embarrassment.
Dawg: (continuing to laugh)
Poppy: *sigh* Good one, though.

One of our salespeople was terminated today. That’s what we call it when someone gets fired — termination.

It seems so crass to fire someone today, but I guess that’s just me.

I wrote a poem this morning about the sky and how it related to the date.
I wrote a ramble last night about how I couldn’t bring myself to participate in the 2996 project because I didn’t personally know anyone who died on 9/11/2001, and how I feel like an outsider looking in, oh poooor me.
It has crossed my mind many times to publish too much about what the future “should have” been except life decided to spare a very good person while taking so many others that day.

I can’t publish those things. Can’t because I won’t.

But I can write about this girl I knew who just arrived to New York a few months ago, getting this job before she even had an apartment, and getting terminated on the same day 8 years later from when 2996 people lost their lives for no good reason.

And quote a Phil Collins song, because it seems appropriate today.

I must’ve dreamed a thousand dreams
Been haunted by a million screams
I can hear the marching feet
They’re moving into the street.

This is the world we live in
And these are the names we’re given
Stand up and let’s start showing
Just where our lives are going to.

On August 1, 2008 I celebrated my very last day of work in these boots:

…the only boots I owned and brought with me to NYC on August 2, 2008 when I packed up my life and moved here.

As of September 5, 2009 — just one year, one month, and 3 days from the date I arrived to the place I call home — I now own these boots:

They are playful, sexy, all business, all weekend, intoxicating, serious, practical, soooo impractical, daring, bold, understated, overstated, too high, down low, dirty, good-girl, and what I wear everyday, everywhere, … even to bed sometimes.

They are me.

“And this storm, this storm is called Pro….gress.”