He wrote this:

“Fitness Models” are really the most frustrating of all models. Whereas fashion models are often just coat hangers (who have their own set of problems), “fitness models” loudly espouse the “healthy lifestyle”, but then go and portray an extreme dimorphism that requires medical intervention to attain. They have terribly low body fat (to the point of shutting down most “female” functions), but then insist on somehow establishing emphasized secondary sexual characteristics, in some cases creating an impossible look where all fat is segregated into the bra cup. Not only is it an unattainable-by-95%-of-women body, it’s a subversive design perpetuated by a media culture that fetishizes tiny, underfed women that have to actually have surgery so that they have the “I am a woman” marker (because fashion dictates that it is breasts, not hips that signify femalehood) and then apply war paint in such a way to try and mimic sexual arousal when the abuse that the body has undertaken has likely subdued the sexual impulse to being non-existent (not to mention creating a body totally unprepared and unable to actually carry a child). That on top of the notion that healthy equals (in a caucasian, asian, or latina — AA women are fetishized in a completely different arena) dark skin tone and light hair.

At first, I wanted to argue with some of this, but he’s really right on every last word of it.  Every before and after shows a pasty — because light skinned means an ugly word like “pasty” is necessary — and afterwards out comes the fake bake and Sun-In.

I really love that man.

1. I quit my job. This is a pattern of behavior with me. I was unhappy for a number of reasons, some that were the fault of with the workplace I was in, but many more that originated with me. Basically, though, I decided life was too short to be that freaking miserable.  This one move was the catalyst for many other changes.

2. I wrote out a mission statement.   After I left the job, I took a good month and a half, living off of vacation time at my old job and other savings, to decide what was next. A big part of this process was more introspection that I’m generally comfortable with. It turns out, love and freedom are the two most important concepts in everything I do.

Writing out my mission statement helped me to finally get an idea of what I wanted to do with my life. Not just career, but what my ideal life would look like.  All things in my life will flow from pursuing this set of goals. Because I finally gave this the time and effort it deserved, I got to the root of why my life looked so directionless. If I hadn’t taken the time for this step, I probably would still be stuck in the spin cycle.

3. I decided not to go back to school.  One of the avenues I’ve considered, historically, is going back to school and getting that engineering degree, or an MBA, or any number of further educational goals, depending on my current thought processes.  Writing out that mission statement helped me to see why I want to go back to school, and how to get the same fulfillment that I’m seeking from further education, without investing significant amounts of time and energy to simply put me back in someone else’s work pool (and back to disempowered misery) again.

3. I went to work for myself. I personally cannot stand handing over control of my time, energy, thought processes, morality, you name it. That is the biggest reason for my habit of quitting jobs.  I want to be in charge of myself. From now own, I’ll at least be able to blame myself if I have to work over, miss an important date, don’t make what I think I’m worth, or am bored or unfulfilled.

This is risky but huge in terms of my daily peace of mind. For years I resisted the idea that I’m an entrepreneurial type, because I craved security, and felt I needed someone to give me goals.  Turns out a client can proved the second as well as an employer, and security is overrated. The work vacillates wildly.  I have worked on some really fun projects, and some really boring ones over the past six months. Some weeks I double my old income, and others, I make nothing.  Sometimes I get 4 hours of sleep a night because I have too much work, and other times I have nothing to do but look for more to do.  I have some things in the works right now that could mean a lot of money down the road, but little to nothing right now.  No matter. I can sleep at night. I don’t cry on my way to work.

4. I wrote a novel.  Yes!  I did finish NaNoWriMo.  This is the one blog post I’m definitely going to write later. I learned so much from it.

5.  I decided to try and have another kid.  So far, no dice, and I’m okay with that, too.  We’ll see how that works out.

6. I painted my first painting.  Really, I stopped procrastinating, and started acting on those projects that I’ve always wanted to do. I bought a sewing machine and sewed some pillows, and then popped five needles in a row and threw up my hands in exasperation. I painted our furniture to all look the same.  Chris and I put up bookshelves, which didn’t end up exactly like I imagined, but is still a source of great joy to me.

Painting was not anything I thought I would enjoy, or have any ability at, but I joined a girlfriend for her birthday dinner. She wanted to go to a Painted by U session where we made our own versions of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. I had a freaking blast, and while no one will confuse my art with something actually good just yet, it was amazing to just do it. I bought some paints and canvasses over the Christmas break, and painted my first original for the Spousal Unit for Christmas.  I’m going to keep this one up, for myself.

And really, all I want to do is read the next two in the Hunger Games series. I’m not allowed til I get this under control.

I will write more on it later. For now I wanted to post this to keep me honest and so I won’t back out.

We’re going to spend today in Tuscaloosa for the Out of the Darkness Walk. My brother’s birthday is today, so I decided to do this one instead of Birmingham. The Out of the Darkness Walk is for those of us whose lives have been affected by suicide — those who have died, the survivors, and even those who are plagued by thoughts of suicide. People walk for many different reasons.

We’re walking for more than just my brother, of course. C’s aunt intentionally overdosed last year. We’ve lost far too many family members to suicide. It’s horrible and uncomfortable, but I have to talk about it every once in a while. It’s important. Close friends have had their families ripped apart by this illness. In part, it’s because suicide looks intentional. We’re programmed for survival, so the mind that can not only conceive of self-destruction, but actually act upon it, is a diseased mind.

My perspective on life has violently shifted since 2009. I am much more serious. I no longer can laugh when people say they’re so frustrated they want to kill themselves. I notice with true horror Halloween decorations of people hanging from nooses. For about a year, I had actual PTSD symptoms. There were times I couldn’t drive because of mental images. I still don’t like to dream. In the months following my brother’s death, C probably lost his job due to the aftermath of dealing with the loss and a wife who was absolutely shattered by grief.

My brother would have been 31 today. We should have talked on the phone about 4 times in the last month. He should be laughing at all of the Auburn fans and cheering for Bama. But he’s not, and I get sick watching football.

I’ve lost more than a brother. My relationship with my family has been wrecked. With my brother’s ghost haunting every function, I feel a weight on my chest every time I face anyone who knew him. He haunts us. I try to think of the right thing to say and simply find myself counting the seconds til it is over. Church is also very hard, and as a result we’re currently unchurched. We’re much more aware of the importance of love and grace, and hyperaware of how absent it is.

But all is not lost. I have learned so much. I have learned who my true friends are, and how to be a true friend. I have learned compassion and begun on a journey that might actually save my children from this anomaly. It’s strong on both sides of our family, and that’s scary. It is especially scary, since no one will talk about it. That silence perpetuates the cycle, because people do not know how to reach out when they feel this way. Even if they do, we don’t know how to prevent, cope, or deal with suicidal ideation.

Coming out of my own personal darkness has been a hard struggle. Because of him, and losing him, I love harder than I ever did before.I am more mindful. I notice the beauty and preciousness of all life. I have realized that life is too short to waste on things I despise, and when it became clear that my “career” at a dead end job was a waste of time, I was able to walk away easily without looking backward.

A few thoughts to leave you with:

• Think before you joke about killing yourself.
• Remember me, and other survivors. Treat us kindly. We don’t get to grieve the way other people do, because suicide is stigmatized in our culture. If we are excited to actually talk about things, understand it is because we often feel we can’t.
• If you’re about to start antidepressants, please get someone to watch over you and check in often. Don’t go it alone. Read those warnings and be truly advised. Suicide being a side effect is not theoretical.
• Don’t be afraid to talk about suicide. It’s no more shameful than losing someone to heart disease. Lives can be saved when we don’t stigmatize mental illness.
• Most personally, remember my brother today, if you knew him. If you want to write a note here in remembrance, that would rock my world.

The outpouring of love and support I’ve gotten this week has been incredible, and buoyed me up when I felt I was foundering. I’m very grateful.

Writing has always been a part of my long term agenda, just the same as homesteading has.  Unlike being self-sufficient and growing my own food, writing is something I can do immediately. I’ve got my own personal writing to do, but in the meantime, why not try my hand at freelancing? Part of the reason I don’t write for pleasure is I’m not in the habit of it. The more I work on writing, the better I become, just like anything else.  If I am not currently employed on a project, I’ll be in the habit of writing anyway, so odds are, I’ll write.

I’ve had really phenomenal results so far. Out of the first 10 jobs I applied for, I got three gigs. I’ve covered a car note so far in earnings!  In this amount of time, I had expected maybe $25–50, so I’ve made ten times the amount I projected for the first month. I’m currently booked for one long-term, up to 15 hours a week job.

I have had the opportunity to bid on some amazing jobs, too.  Even though I know my odds right now are pretty slim for getting some of those awesome jobs, I still keep applying. I know that after I’ve got more 5 star feedback, I’ll be more than a resume with a blank portfolio, and more jobs will come in. I’ll be at the top of the competition for these neat, creative writing gigs soon enough.

But still — while I’m waiting for this business to grow to a full time job, I am absolutely thrilled because I’m getting paid to do something I love.  I’ve never had this feeling before. I wonder why it’s taken me this long.

Now I’m back to being at home while the Spousal Unit brings home the bacon.  Bacon is a priority, after all, but I’ve never really been comfortable being the one who is supposed to fry it up. Right now, though, I’m much more content to be at home, for the first time. However, I’m still facing issues of being unfulfilled intellectually, and feeling I’m wasting my talents. So over the summer, I’ve been dusting off my resume, looking at mission statements and revisiting those dreams and trying to take a good long honest hard look at myself. It’s uncomfortable.

However, in looking at these things, I’ve pulled out old mission statements and journals — years’ worth. It’s easy to see, looking at it objectively. I’ve got themes running through my dreams, and interestingly, engineering (or other career paths) are always obliquely referred to at best. By that, I mean, I’ll say “I will apply myself to my studies and choose the right path” but I never say “I will go to school to become an engineer.” I find this very telling. I wasn’t willing to commit to any of these goals completely.

What is ALWAYS there is family, writing, and a farm. If you ask me what I would do if I inherited 3 million dollars, I know without hesitation I’d buy land and learn to work it. I’ve always been envious of those people who forsook the city life, complete with the rat race and all, and did the Little House on the Prairie bit.  It just recently occurred to me, which actually strikes me as kind of pathetic, that being a homesteader is actually a job. No, it doesn’t really make income, unless you choose to be commercial, but it creates food. It feeds your family. When I was a kid, we had a garden, not a farm, but I doubt my mom had to buy any vegetables all summer. I know what kind of work it entails, and I know I’m woefully unprepared right now to take that step immediately, but I’m certain that’s where I’m heading.

To be absolutely honest with myself, though, I have to ask the question: how do I know this isn’t another phase?

To be truthful, there is a certain extent that I’ll doubt until I do.  I know that.  Still, I’m certain that wanting a home in the country, with a garden and the trimmings, is something I want.  I can look at years, decades even, of journals and see the theme. I can remember the pangs in my heart when my Great Grandfather’s land was sold and I was never told it was up for sale, because it was exactly the starting point I had hoped for.  I have hoarded bits of info on planting and ecosystems and permaculture that I’ve read for FUN!  I didn’t do much actual nuts and bolts reading about aerospace or mechanical engineering unless I was on track.  I didn’t read about any of many career paths I’ve considered, unless I was actively considering them.  I’m just fully aware now that this is the direction my soul has been YEARNING for. It’s fascinating to me, how blind I was to all this.

As soon as I allowed myself to put the dream into words, everything clicked. I knew it was something that could be accomplished, even though it will be hard, but also that it was right. I had that thing that everyone talks about — true inspiration. I suddenly knew.

The true extent that I’ll be living as a homesteader is yet to be determined, and how long it will take to get there. There’s land to find and acquire, and there’s bills to pay to get to that point. There’s so much to learn! Skills, knowledge, experience, it all seems like it should be so daunting. But I’m not discouraged or “maybe” about it at ALL. How weird is that? It’s an amazing feeling. I don’t know that I’ve ever had it. I’m fully confident that it’s a huge part of who I am, and who I will become in the years to come.

The official press release doesn’t excite me any more than the video. Yet here I am, blogging about it, and I’ll probably at least explore the site pretty thoroughly once it’s up and moving. Maybe I should just hush.