Posts Tagged ‘self-esteem’

I just returned from my voice lesson. A very disappointing lesson. Let me start of by saying I found the best music teachers here in Israel. It is my goal to be able to apply to university to study music next year. This means a lot of work on my part.

I’ve also improved more in the last two-ish months of lessons then I did over the span of a year in Canada. I think part of it is the assertive (aggressive) Israeli spirit. There is a certain lack of tact that is very refreshing (which also took a while to get used to). But when my teacher is communicating (yelling) at me, I have no choice but to listen. And it works, wonderfully.

Today, however, I encountered some difficulty in my lesson. My back’s been hurting, probably due to the oncoming winter and the sporatic torrential rainfall of the last few weeks. I don’t know if its a real pain, or a body memory. For 14 years any change in weather meant increased pain levels and limited mobility. I suspect it is a mixture of both.

Anyways – it is my body that is the instrument. Which means I have to feel 100% in order to get 100% sound. The tension in my back threw my ear off. I couldn’t breathe properly, and I could feel I was forcing my voice too much, and as a result, I was off tone.

My teacher asked me about that. And I didn’t say anything. I didn’t say the truth. It wasn’t until I left and walked towards the bus that I realized why:

I didn’t want to come off as weak. Or like I was making excuses for myself.

So instead, I left my teacher with the impression that I’m working on this beyond my current capability. And I left that lesson extremely disappointed in myself. Doubly so when it hit me that I reacted as if I would be penalized for being in pain. And then I wanted to cry.

So.

I have to own up next week. Because I am capable.

 

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For a long time I wanted to be sexually neutral. I remember at 16 I wanted to cut my breasts off. I even have a scar above my left breast, where I dug into my skin, thinking I could cut them off by myself.

Since I was 16, I’ve used a Mirena IUD for severe pelvic pain. The thought being that without a period, there would be no reason for my pelvis to hurt.

This has been true, to an extent. I had the IUD removed when I was 18. I freaked out so badly I had it reinserted, and have kept it since.

Its one of those things I’m aware of but don’t really acknowledge: The need to remove anything that makes me a woman.

This is kinda a weird place to be in, cause I fully embrace my femininity. Yet there are times when I do not want to be female at all.

Its a trigger that’s been waiting in the background. There, and I know of it. Just the trigger and I ignore each others existence. Until, of course, I have to face it head on.

Like, when I’m sharing quarters with other women, and one of them asks me if I have a tampon. And my first instinct is to lash out violently. So while I smile apologetically and say no, I’m envisioning a bloodbath where there will no longer be anything left to mark us as women.

This could possibly be playing into my heightened awareness of what I am wearing, and my need to disappear behind clothes, and the frightening realization that its not actually possible. And the knots in my stomach twist a little more.

I tried to unsex myself before. By losing too much weight, by gaining too much weight, by trying to remove or restrain my curves, went out with my head veiled. I pierced sexual body parts multiple times in a twisted form of self-injury.

And, of course, I still don’t get my period.

Which made me wonder about my capacity to heal.

I think I finally get it. I’m not 100% sure what it is I get. I just know it all finally makes sense.

So my best friend lives out on the other end of the country. I got to talk to him a couple days ago. And got to hear his I told you so.. Not smugly, just pleased. He’s seen me as the person I am now, the person I’m becoming, for about 5 years now. Which in the past would anger me to the point I would completely stop talking to him. Now, I’m just really thankful that there was at least one person who didn’t see me as I was, but as I was meant to me. I know you’re reading this. So huge hugs and thank you 🙂

So ya. Everything makes sense. I cried for the first time in years last week. It was amazing. Like huge sobs wracking my body. In church. And I had strangers hold me and pray for me. It was awesome.

I saw a guy in the mall on the weekend who looks just like J. Who nearly killed me. Instead of running off (which is something I usually do when I see anyone I used to know, may know, or reminds me of someone I knew), I went up to him, introduced myself, and blessed him. And then ran off.

I’m also going overseas in a few weeks. Til the end of October. I’m super excited. I’ll be there for my birthday. So I’m expecting to have an incredible celebration. Which includes not being raped and having to pretend everything’s okay and then pressing and dropping charges.

So since I’m leaving, its given me a chance to rediscover the city I’m in. Which is kinda what prompted the post titled My City. It’s actually a nice place. Which I never really realized before.. I was so focused on getting out, running away, escaping, that it’s beauty completely passed by me.

My friend told me I should document all these changes that have been going on with me. Which is true. But I still have to catch up to all the changes.

I saw my therapist yesterday. And she was floored by how different I look. She stared at me and said You look like you’ve been reborn.

Ya, I have.