We Need To Just Chill.

We think we need to try so hard. For the love of all that is good and holy, we need to just be. Let life be. Stop trying so hard. Breathe it in… is it any wonder we’re all getting sicker, mental illness on the rise, cancer? We overload ourselves with stress because we feel like we are standing still otherwise. Stress is the killer. If we aren’t overwhelmed, pulling our hair out, missing birthdays, and snapping at strangers then… we aren’t successful? We aren’t trying hard enough at life? Um….. so?

What is so wrong with standing still? Why is just being so hard for us to wrap our brains around. I get that life is short, and I’ll be the first to admit I love being busy. But what I need more of…. Is to chill. You can still be busy, but quit killing yourself. Be as busy as you want, but for god sake, chill out. Never linger in either end of the spectrum for too long… they say life is about balance for a reason.

Being alone with our mind, sitting still… no distraction. This is becoming the world’s biggest fear. And likely why we love to be busy, right? No duh, hey. Needing a distraction is just a fear of our own damn mind. You can’t control your mind by being afraid of it. We abuse everything we can that will help us avoid our mind. The thing is… the world isn’t going to crumble beneath you. If it does, it’s a fluke. Being alone with your thoughts won’t cause it. So nix it. This fear… life’s too short to live in fear. The world is gonna keep turning whether you live fearfully or boldly. Life is short, we said already. So…..What’s to be scared of? Your mind is INSIDE of you. Yet we act like it’s an intruder that we need to destroy. Make peace with your mind, talk to it, get to know it. Let ‘em call you crazy. They’re crazy not to. It’s literally a part of you. Screw what they think. Take care of your mind, it will take care of you.

Would we seriously rather trust someone else’s thoughts and opinions over ours… out of fear that ours will be rejected? That means… putting your life, your future… in someone else’s hands. What path are they gonna lead you down? We’re walking blindly through the forest when we could be opening our eyes and exploring it for ourselves.

Life hasn’t gone perfectly for me, I wasn’t born with this knowledge. This took 23 years to create. I know some scoff at that. 23 years? That’s nothing. Try another decade of heartbreak, let-downs and traumas. Maybe it’s that I have a low threshold for pain? No, It’s because I’m a fighter. Pain is all I know, it has passed the threshold before I was barely old enough to remember. I’ve had to be a fighter. When being strong is your only choice, it becomes second nature… to fight. So the way I see it is why go another decade… why not change things now when I know I can. Is that so crazy?

I have this insane habit, where I will always try to find a way to better my situation. No matter what. I’ve been evicted, I’ve had negative 50 dollars to feed myself with (spoiler alert: I went hungry). I have put my all into people, just to have them walk away without a word, goodbye, or explanation. There one minute, gone the next. I have had to pick the pieces of my heart up by myself enough times, one too many. All its done is drove me. Lit a fire in my belly. Cause screw that. Why? Why keep suffering when you can change it? That to me is crazy.

Crazy isn’t caring about the world and about people, crazy isn’t thinking you can do what you set your mind to, crazy isn’t being whoever the hell you want to be. Crazy is sittin’ in the corner pouting about your life. Crazy is putting on the exact same outfit you see all over social media that 100s of others are wearing. Crazy is being a dime a dozen when you can be a one in a million. Crazy is talking and wishing and dreaming but not being. Practice what you preach, right? Go ahead, ask me – how much do I care? What the world is gonna think of my words… What they think of me? I have no clue cause I haven’t bothered to look into it, or ponder on it.

They say I’m young, but this world makes me feel aged. At 23, I’m exhausted by this generation. I’m just so damn tired of it… and I’m speaking about the majority that is seen, talked about, generalized. I know there are tons of firecrackers out there. And I hope that one day, they take over. We need a refresh button. Wash our minds of all these rules and guidelines. You need to wear this, look like that, don’t speak in this way and know your damn place? Big fuckin’ whoop. I’m over it.

That’s all I’ve got. Relax, and just live as long as the world keeps turning…

And if it seems like I’m angry, I’m not. It’s passion, my friends. Go find yours.

 

Ciara Leah

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A long winded note to those who don’t have baby-fever… (It’s friggin’ OK)

Can we talk about this whole havin’ babies thing for a minute? The world’s changing. Yet the majority out there cling to what’s comfortable. And what makes them uncomfortable? Those people who…wait for it… DO NOT WANT A FRICKIN’ BABY. Is that really that surprising still?

The first year of my son’s life nearly destroyed me. Mind you, I was 20 years old and thought I might have had an inkling of an idea of what I was getting myself into. Let’s all laugh for a good minute on that one. It wasn’t pretty. I’m not a crier, I’m pretty sure my tear ducts have been sealed with concrete. But I cried. A lot. Ugly cried on the bathroom floor with the water running so hard that I could maybe, hopefully drown out the demon screams of my beautiful, wonderful, miracle.

There was too much that I had zero experience in. Having a new baby is one thing. A baby who had all these things I knew nothing about. While adjusting to no sleep, diaper changes and feeding… I also had to learn all about thrush, reflux, fucking colic? All things that make your baby scream for what feels like every waking minute of your life. I don’t care what anyone says – hours of endless crying makes you go insane. Seriously insane.

I didn’t even get a free minute to check in with myself, see how I was doing. Well it wasn’t great. I was becoming angry. Like frothing at the mouth, white hot anger. I had never been that kind of person. I was angry at the world. Angry that instead of holding my baby his first moments, I was waking up alone in the ICU unable to speak, no idea where my baby was or why he wasn’t with me. Angry that after all that, he wasn’t easy on me. I wanted to bond, and he wanted to scream at me. Angry that I couldn’t stand up and pick him up when he cried cause I was healing. And so on and on and on.

For anyone that knows me, has likely never heard me yell. Most haven’t. Well… let’s just say I found my voice. I was dealing with post partum depression and had no clue. I was trying so hard to be Owen’s mom, and forgot I was myself first. And Owen needed her. Not this twisted up, angry, miserable unrecognizable version of me.

Enough about me, I’m just saying it’s fucking hard. And after that first year, it’s still hard. Every minute of every day. Forever. We may not deal with the same issues as when he was one but it changes everyday. New ones that I haven’t experienced before. It will always be hard, but I adapt and keep trying because Owen saved my life in a weird kind of way. We were meant to be. That’s my story. If you don’t want that, the good and the bad, til death do you part… It might not be for you. If you like your lifestyle, your sleep, yadda yadda. It’s friggin OK.

I had one. One and done. And that in its own makes people uncomfortable. Well, if you had one… you need to have ALL THE BABIES, RIGHT? So much no to that. My body and mind went through hell. Give them a rest and mind your own business. Or ya know, have your own babies. You’ll be too busy to bother me about having more.

What is this obsession? It takes so much of me to give Owen all my love, time and effort. And I take the time now for myself so I don’t go back down that road… the anger, and irritation towards anyone and everyone. I want a life of my own, too. I love Owen and want to teach him to be independent. This is the life I’m choosing.

Choose yours and those that want to guilt you, honestly, can fly a damn kite. Enough guilt. Life’s hard enough. And there’s enough people havin’ babies. There’s no shortage of people in the world, we aren’t becoming extinct any time soon. Ease your mind, go have a drink while eating sushi and sleep in late cause you friggin’ can!

 

Ciara Leah

Let’s talk about Death, baby

Maybe it’s that I died. Literally heart stopped – gone. Or that I’ve wanted to more times than I can count on two hands. I realize how dreary those words must sound… but to me, just saying them out loud I feel like a bag of feathers and a bucket of sunshine. It’s just my truth, we as humans add emotion to it.

Maybe being so low for so long, and sabotaging any happiness that came along cause it was a stranger to me… it was uncomfortable, uncharted territory. Maybe these things are what gave me this perspective.

I just can’t care anymore. I mean that in the best way possible.

I can’t care about anything superficial or materialistic. I just can’t. Drama, games, ignorance, and cowards, as well. Nope. These are a few of my least favourite things! Just a big nope.

What the heck is a trend? I know what I like, not what the rest of the world likes.

And please, if you are wasting your time worrying that no one “liked” your post or your picture on social media…. Go for a fucking walk in nature and rethink your life.

The thing is… time is precious and it absolutely flies. What if I had passed away that night? Giving birth to my son, barely 20 years old. This is a second kick at the can. I wanna do this right.

I’ll die with the biggest smile knowing that I put myself out there. Knowing I put something in the world that wasn’t there before. Regardless of recognition, “likes”, mock me, even. I will be smiling even bigger.

Cause the thing is, I shouldn’t be here right now. A part of me did die that night. I put to rest all of the shy, scared, worry-filled parts of me. I’m a mom now – time to buck up. A little boy needs me, there’s no time to worry about what people think of me.

The moment I will feel I have failed my son, is not when we fall short of a picture perfect family image, but if I fall short of being myself, of being real and humble.

What’s a perfect family to you? Do you picture split parents, a small basement apartment, a cupboard full of canned goods and a gas tank teasing the red line? Doubtful. But look closer. There’s always more than meets the eye, I promise you. This may be what gets me in trouble more often than not, that I give people a chance that most would turn away, or call a “low-life”, or a “loser”. That may be my downfall. I just know there is always more to people than we will ever know. And you can’t measure a person by their bank account.

When you have nothing, you learn right away how to be happy with less. More time spent connecting with humans not computers. Anxiety is becoming a problem because of our environment. We’re getting overwhelmed cause there’s way too damn much information and media at our fingertips, we get sucked in. Like I said before – Go! Go for a walk.

Leave your phone on the table, erase every superficial thought and materialistic desire and go breathe, let yourself just be… be you, no pressure, no anxiety to fit in or make anyone else happy…. Now tell me how good that feels. I promise.

Live something real before you start dying full of regrets.

 

Ciara Leah

 

 

 

Do You Know Me Yet?

Here’s a question… because I’ve shared some of my thoughts, talked about my life, bared my soul a little – or a lot… do you know me now?

Can you really know someone through the Internet? No. If they honestly spew their deepest hopes and dreams, their timeline and stats? Still, no. I don’t believe you can.

Damn social media skewing our perceptions again, am I right? It feels all too easy to feel like you know someone just because you can see into their life over social media. What they choose to share with the world… well wait, hold up… there’s a key word there. Choose. What they choose to share.

Truth is we could hardly know someone we consider a close friend, someone we know in person and see often… but let’s not climb down that rabbit hole tonight.

I get to choose what I share on this blog, I haven’t even touched on the tip of the iceberg of my life through this. The iceberg hasn’t even impacted this ship, if you will. Only dented, if that. What am I even talking about again?

But anyway, there’s more to it than just what someone chooses to share with the world. You just can’t know someone through a screen. No matter how hard you try. See there’s these little things that make us unique. Not the big things, not the big things at all.

It’s the quirks. For example… I need to check all the outlets in the house before I leave everytime to make sure nothing is plugged in, turned on, you know – gonna set the house on fire? Sometimes I do three laps in a row. Okay maybe that isn’t a quirk. The word disorder comes to mind… ANYWAY!

It’s knowing the way someone smiles… knowing each different smile, and what each one means. It’s knowing what they’re thinking or feeling when they haven’t changed face or even flinched. To study someone up close is the only real way to know them. I don’t like using the word study there… pay attention to, rather. These things get left out through a screen. Who could guess what I look like typing this right now? I’m sure some of my closest might have a guess. And probably right, too.

Hair unbrushed and untamed, dressed in black with a cheap beer in my hand… dark circles under my eyes lookin’ a little hazed… who guessed it right? Adele, I’m lookin’ at you. (Pounds! Uh! Two times!)

Do I really gotta ruin the serious and deep train thought I had going by calling out my best friend? Oh absolutely. I’ll derail this train thought anytime, any day for my old pal Stew.

TO WRAP THIS UP:

I’ve derailed this train thought so damn hard, I don’t know which ways up.

But hey, when it comes to social media… what you see ain’t always what you get. No duh, right? But we forget that! You might say yeah, I know, I know. But then continue to compare yourself to other peoples Bragbook posts. There’s nothin’ wrong with a little showing off… I say do it, celebrate you and show the world how proud you are. But there’s a line… learn to find it. I can’t tell you how, but do.

My most scatterbrained post to date but hey, if they don’t find you helpful or interesting, they can at least find you humorous. If all that fails then you’re SOL.

 

Ciara Leah

My Little Boy

My little boy
I forget how little you truly are
While your heart beams with compassion
I know this gets heavy on your soul
I begin to worry, and start to fret
When I think of all the heartbreak in store yet
But then you smile, and my worries fade
For I know you’ve got it, the armour and the blade

My boy you’ve grown, but you have a ways to go yet

I’ll replace your stickers and storybooks
For baseball bats and concerned looks,
When you scurry in past curfew
Remember I love you best

Anything you may do, I’m sure I’ve done it too
This how I know you’ll be okay
I bleed the same as you

But for now I’ll still hold you, long as my arms can bare
I’ll count each toe and finger
And cherish just how rare
You are to this world, my dear little boy
Don’t forget me when you aren’t so little23231384_10159552641115123_2461561730647318159_n

Ciara Leah

Sharing isn’t always Caring

It’s the first major lesson we’re taught: to share. Is it any wonder we’re all out here thinking our main purpose is to find someone to share our life with? As though, if we don’t, if we end up alone, we’ve failed our lives? That’s a tad too much pressure. The idea that you’re broken, lost, or unhappy because you’re single is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.

You get to decide, you know. Your purpose … that’s on you. Maybe your purpose is to find someone to spend your life with. Maybe your union with that person will change the world. Great! Just know that doesn’t have to be it. Some of us find ourselves unhappy ‘cause we’re trying to live out someone else’s idea of life.

I’m not bashing couples, not for a second… but I think there are some people out there who need to hear this. I needed it. So much focus went towards: Am I gonna end up alone? What If I do? What am I doing wrong? Gawwwwddd, we need to stop.

So much focus was taken away from THIS. Me! I’ve got so much passion and creativity in me that was being wasted on people who don’t care much for me. It makes me cringe thinking back on it. Ya know what makes my heart skip a beat? When I’m singing and I know I hit the note just right, when I’m writing and it flows so perfectly, everything I wanted to say came out just right, and knowing that I’m spending my time towards something fucking beautiful… building a future by myself, for myself (and Owen) … no one can take that away, or tarnish it ‘cause I fucking own it. It’s the most badass thing I can think of.

I was a lonely little girl, and I thought I was supposed to be sad by that. The world will try to tell you what you can and can’t do, what you’re supposed to feel and who you’re supposed to be. Fuck ‘em.

Being alone is a strength I embrace. Wolf and Woman is me, myself and I, braving my scars and insecurities. It’s my foundation, and I’m so proud of what I’m building. So GO – build your lives, be ruthless, do whatever the friggin’ heck you want, and don’t forget to laugh the entire way. Make some waves, stir the pot, and please for the love of god don’t stop being weird, don’t tone down your personality because some people are uncomfortable by it. Fuck’em I said.

 

Ciara Leah

 

Grade School Sucks

I used to hate everything I could possibly hate about myself. How awful is that? When we’re young we’re so susceptible to what’s on TV, in magazines, trends, and so on… the things I hated the most, that set me apart, are what I treasure now. Growing up is fucking grand. Not giving a fuck is, too. They go hand in hand I’m sure.

I could give you a list… my freckles, dimples, brown hair, uneven eyebrows (seriously, one is raised much higher than the other and I never knew what to do about it), awkwardly skinny – bony, if you will? Dare I go on? My name, even!

I hated it all. I focused on every detail I hated. God, I cringe thinking of it. But that’s growing up. We learn, grow, do better.

It’s not just how I look, I’ve always felt a little off. I never thought the same as everyone else and viewed it as a weakness. Oh no no no… dear young child. It is such a strength, I hate that it has taken me this long to figure that out. I felt like I was slower than others… It’s just that I’m in a whole different lane all together.

Because it is really disheartening to go through the first 16 years of your life thinking there’s something wrong with you just cause you don’t have blonde hair, hips and say “cool things”. Grade school sucks for anyone who is different. You never feel accepted, really. Maybe get along fine (not all of us), but regardless will always feel like you’re on the outside lookin’ in.

I wish I realized all this, then.

Bottom line: being different does not make you lesser, weaker, or what-have-you. Make it what you need it to be for you. It’s your choice. It could make you weaker, if you let it. No fucking doubt. Or…. Make it your strength.

The cards are in your hands, it’s up to you how you play them.

Ciara Leah

OK, Let’s Cut the Shit

OK let’s cut the shit. My posts up until now have been borderline dreary – agreed? I’ve got a lot of material to work with on the ‘dark and twisty’ side of things (Grey’s fans holla?). I don’t plan to write, it just comes outta me like lava. Alright I’ll try to keep the movie quotes to a minimum but c’mon, couldn’t resist. So clearly I’ve been real serious these days. Blah! As serious, dark or deep as I get, my favorite side to me is my sense of humor… which is EXACTLY what has gotten me through all this crap life has so kindly chosen ME to unload on. I’m honored. Really, I am! So many things if they just went a little differently… or maybe “went my way for once” would have made me into a totally different person, guaranteed. And I don’t wanna know that me.

Before I start gettin’ all chatty and deep again, though… let’s cut the shit. I miss the feeling of laughing so hard you can’t breathe… tears streaming, sore muscles… jeez, what happened? Aside from the fact my best friend moved from the province… I lost my joy. So now what?! Back to the drawing board. I gained so much experience and wisdom but it sucked the life out of me. Growth is painful. Like any war won, you gain so much, while losing so much during the process.

When I’m feeling lost and unsure of my next move I like to go back to basics. Strip away all the bullshit. Only hold on to what feeds your soul.

That means anything… and… everything. Physical, mental… you have to clear it all away. Remember being a kid? Channel that. I have always remained the same deep down, but along the way… we go through phases, trial different personalities, friendships. But I’ve come to a point I know what I like and what I want – who I am. And to be honest… It’s not much different than who I was as a little girl. I’ve come full circle gaining knowledge, wisdom and experience along the way. I’m “Ciwa Weah” 2.0! Yeah, damn those R’s are tricky to pronounce for a lil’ mouth. Something my dear little boy adopted from me.

Like I’ve said before, I’m so much light and dark. As a little girl, I’m pretty sure I always looked either evil or ridiculously happy in pictures. For me, the worse things get… the more I give out that joy. I could be rock bottom and I will find a reason to be happier than ever – It always evens out. You need both. So currently I’m at an imbalance. I’ve spent the evening purging my belongings, my thoughts… everything clouding me. But I had to get these thoughts out.

This is your friendly reminder to laugh, smile… just wipe away that miserable “resting bitch face” look and remind yourself of the joy. It can be few and far between, but you are in control of your reactions. Find the humor in the worst of situations… laugh instead of cry, or laugh until you cry. None of us get out of here alive anyway, as cliché as that may sound. Let it sink in. Don’t lose your joy in the battle, you need it to keep going.

 

Ciara Leah

Hidden

I hide parts of me

They stay cold and cobwebbed

I blame my clumsiness on them

They try to escape on accident

Like if I trip or fumble my words, they’ll see the light of day

The sun will set them on fire

So I won’t have to

My modesty holds me back, again

My modesty holds me back

 

I’m scared to be seen

Like their gazes and opinions, their opposing views

Might tarnish what I’ve built

Track mud through the floors

And leave empty bottles on the lawn

So selfishly stowed away they remain

Waiting impatiently for casualty

My fear holds me back, again

My fear holds me back

 

I grow tired

Of the constant white noise of my weaknesses

The valuable pieces of my soul start to erode, and I can feel it

Modesty and fear outnumber, but I’ve brought an army –

Determination

Guts

Intensity

– They chew away at each other, an even battle

It’s a back and forth crusade, and I show up daily

Try and hold me back, I tease

Try and hold me back

 

Ciara Leah

 

 

The Big Bad Love Issue

Love is not an easy thing for me. I don’t take it lightly, and it doesn’t come and go like the weather. For me, it builds… like a horrendous storm about to wreak havoc on a city – years of rebuilding from the damage. It drains me because I can’t help but put in 150% and then some. I just can’t fathom doing it half-ass.

‘Cause If you’re something different in my eyes, unapologetically yourself, and kinda rough around the edges… chances are I’m gonna drop everything for you… A hard shell with the biggest heart hidden inside – the ones that don’t think they’re worth much. I’m a sucker. Maybe it’s that I see my reflection in them, maybe that I love to build people up… I know the lows so well that I don’t wish it on anyone. And I’m smart enough to know wishing hate will just bring it double time right back in your face.

Only a select few have grabbed my attention through my 23 years here… and the memories are burned into my brain. If it’s easily forgotten by the time you have healed completely, then I’m sorry, that wasn’t it. Those real loves… never heal completely – scar tissue forms.

I don’t believe in the thought that if it was really love, then you can’t be friends. I think the realest ones… they were meant to come to you, the connection had to be undeniable to grab your attention and your trust. It’s sick but this is how we learn – now you’ve got this person before you that you adore, love, trust…. and for whatever reason life decides to throw at you, they break you. They were a lesson. Unfortunate but it’s the best way we learn.

If you allow yourself to feel it, analyze it, and let it go, you will be better for it. And when it’s real, in time you may see the reasons it wouldn’t have lasted, but you will never stop feeling that connection. Those are your soul mates. And because of that connection you may remain in touch, become the best of friends, or just friendly… you’ll never stop wishing the best things for them. Or just silently cheer them on from the sidelines. That’s what I truly believe.

If shit hits the fan, you eventually heal and then never see them again nor think much of them, no respect remains… I don’t feel that was ever really a legitimate love. That was not real. Because no matter how painful it could be seeing this person with someone else, being there for them and just being their friend… it’s so much better than disconnecting… because it means the world to just be in their life.

Life beats us down so much, you can gain and lose so much in the matter of minutes… what remains is these connections. The best treasures can’t physically be taken from you. This is the knowledge I’ve dissected from life. I treasure my mind so much, the knowledge and wisdom it holds… the connections my heart holds, my material possessions have downsized significantly as I grow older… I find myself annoyed with having a lot of belongings… clutter. I hate it. Anyway – It’s good to have your own opinions and beliefs… these are mine. Don’t be afraid to stand out… a wolf among sheep.

Ciara Leah