The Girl in the Porcelain Doll

college, friendship, God, illness, life, love

If I had a dollar for every time someone commended me on being “strong”, I’d be a very rich woman.

In our society, being strong means balancing everything and everyone without breaking a sweat.

It means sleep deprivation and a borderline serious addiction to coffee.

It means meeting deadlines, no matter the cost to your sanity; or relationships.

It means not falling apart when you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sometimes I feel like a girl trapped inside a porcelain doll. I can feel myself beginning to crack; trying to escape this emotional prison, but I patch myself up time and again, for the fear that if I shatter, who will be there to pick up the pieces?

If I fall apart, who will hold the others together?

If I’m not Superwoman, who’s going to save the day?

But I’m not Superwoman.

I’m just a woman.

Sometimes, I just can’t withstand the pressure.

Sometimes, those few little cracks happen in the right places, and I can’t tape them back together; I shatter.

Sometimes, I’m PMSing with a stomach bug, missing deadlines, can’t clean my apartment, don’t have energy for love or friendship, and go through a great loss.

The mind is a fragile, terrifying, beautiful place. It is the entirety of you; it is the seat of your soul.

My mind is frazzled. My mind is tired of hiding emotions that I push aside because, “I just don’t have time to fall apart right now.”

My soul is tired. It’s tired of straining to hold up the mask .

My mouth is weary. It cannot utter the words, “I’m fine,” one more time.

So this is me being honest. This is me falling apart. This is me crying out the tears that have been burning a whole sitting in my stomach. This is me pouring out the emotions that have turned to bile and started to poison my heart.

This is me breaking free from my porcelain frame.

This is being strong.

 

 

 

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I’m Still Me

betrue, college, life

I’m still me…

With the crazy, frizzy, curly hair.

I’m still me, with the imperfect boobs.

I’m still me, with a muffin top.

I’m still me, with the giant zit.

I’m still me, without makeup.

I’m still me, with sweatpants on.

I’m still me, with the stretch marks.

I’m still me, during the mood swings.

I’m still me, when the dark moments come.

I’m still me, when you don’t see my worth.

I’m still me, when you do.

I’m still me, when I don’t know who ‘me’ is.

I’m still me, when I’m just…me.

Is This All There Is?

Boys, college, life, love, Uncategorized

 

Sorry, this is not a “Merry Christmas” post or a “Happy Birthday Jesus” post, no this is a “Wtf?!” post. This is a “I’m fed freaking up” post. A “Beyond done” post.

Is this really all there is? Is this the famed “dating game”? Have we really devolved so much that now I have to introduce myself by saying, “Hi, I’m Ali, you are single right?” Are relationships so unimportant that cheating is just a concept?

And I’m not talking about sleeping with other people. Cheating is more than that; I’m talking about the flirting. You know what I’m saying… The kind of flirting you wouldn’t do in front of your significant other–nor should you do in their absence!

I’m sorry, but I’m just a little confused. Disney and Hallmark shoved this whole knight-in-shining-armor BS down my throat, my entire life, and I just thought things would be a little different. Not this toad pond that I find myself wading through.

What happened to romance? Respect?? Honor??? And I’m not the most Notebook quoting girl on the block, but I know that there has to be something better than this… Isn’t there?

I didn’t expect some golden-haired god to come sweeping me off my feet, but I thought that he might be single at least.

I didn’t think there would be a boom-box blasting outside of my bedroom window, but I believed someone would look at me with admiration instead of lust.

I don’t think all guys are pigs, but damn could they get it together a little?

And no, I will not excuse their behavior. I don’t care if you’re worldly, Muslim, Christian, Jewish, or nothing at all, it doesn’t matter if you’re 5 or 95, you have no excuse to act like a buffoon when it comes to girls or women.

We’re not that confusing. We like to be hugged, kissed, held, and chocolate. Not too much to ask, right? I feel like men just have this already defeated attitude when it comes to women. We really don’t bite…Hard.

I mean if you want to approach me, be a man about it, but not an a**hole. DO NOT TELL ME WHAT I’M GOING TO DO. Ask me if I would like to do something, and if I say no, GO AWAY.

I know that sometimes it takes trial and error to learn your way of talking to women, I get that. But it just seems like guys these day don’t understand the learning from your mistakes part. They’re like Einstein’s theory of insane.

Look I’m not trying to man hate, but it’s high time they get called out on some stuff! In the end you really need to be four things: Kind, courteous, respectful, and for the love of all things, be single!

 

Names…

betrue, college, life, names

Most people, if asked, would not be able to tell you my name. I’m not talking about my Facebook name, or the countless other names I’ve associated myself with throughout the years, I’m talking about the name that’s on my birth certificate. The one that my parents spent months planning. The one that God purposed for me when He was deciding to put me in this world. This post is titled Names.. because for the next few paragraphs, I will take you through the three names that have mostly defined my life, and then explain why I have decided to take my name back.

The Story: 18 1/2 years ago, a woman and a man found out that they were going to be parents to a beautiful little girl (Ok they knew the girl part, the beautiful part was realized later). This commenced the “name game”. Books were read, advice was asked, but nothing was coming. Then one day the woman decided that she wanted something that meant strong and beautiful, but that wasn’t Alexandra. And then (so my mom says), she met one of the most beautiful women she has ever come across, and, in that moment, decided that her child would be named the same. Thus the girl was born!

Alex: Almost immediately after, people began to call said girl Alex, and she would go by this name for many years. Alex was quiet, most would say introverted; you could almost always find her with her nose in a book. She was smart and very much so in the tomboy phase. She loved Spongebob, and adored spending hours playing with her Barbies. Alex was a force to be reckoned with. She was independent, bossy even; but she didn’t care. Alex was Alex and she liked her that way…

Cea: Sometime during the Alex era, Cea was born. Now Cea wasn’t much different from Alex, but she liked her name a little better. Cea was definitely bossy, and she loved it. She had many younger peers who looked up to her, so she felt the need to mature and be the leader. Cea was constantly making up new games to play, and finding new adventures to go on. Cea was strong, and admired, and she liked that very much….

Ali: Just as quickly as the era of Cea began, it ended. Alex was revived for a little bit, but she knew it was a dying cause. Then, in high school, Alex realized that she could change, almost a “reinventing” of sorts. That’s when Ali came into the picture. Ali (Unfortunately called Ali as in Muhammad Ali at times), was very different from Alex. She was more of a girly girl, but had decided to put her dolls away. The strength was still there, but her streak of independence began to wane, and she became more of a “people pleaser”. Where as Alex was a little more quiet, Ali was outgoing, some might even call her extraverted. Ali loved to bake, and make people happy. She loved fashion and movies, but her never ceasing hunger for books was diminishing. Ali liked her name, and she thought she like herself, but she would have moments when looking in the mirror, felt the same as looking at a stranger. Then Ali began to wonder…

She began to question who she really was. Was she Alex, quiet, but independent? Was she Cea the leader? Or was she truly Ali, since most people seemed to like her that way? Then she realized was none of them apart, but all of them at once! She was not just one name, she was a name. The name that came to her mother those years ago. The name that God gave her. The name that trumped all others. But why did she let herself become divided? Why did she let people dictate who she was, because maybe they couldn’t say it right? That’s definitely not who she is. She is quiet, and introverted, but she also loves people. She is kind of a tomboy, but she can rock some heals and give make up tips. She is independent and strong, but she’s also learning what it means to listen and be vulnerable. She is all of these things, and she no longer wants to choose one name or the other; she is taking her name back….

In conclusion, don’t ever let people make you change your name. I know it sucks having to repeat it, or correct people, or in my case, write your name in phonetics for graduation. But guess what, your name is who you are. It’s not just a part of you, it is you, and if you let people change your name, you’re letting them change you. God put us here for a reason, not Alex/Cea/Ali, but me, He put me here for a reason. This is not to say that nicknames are bad, I have a few that I love (i.e. Coffee bean, bean, Gilly, etc), but they were never meant to take the place of my name; just be in addition to. Ok so, nicknames= not bad, changing your name to fit the world’s standards= not so great. And with that I will bid you all farewell.

*P.s. My name is Alexcea (pronouced Alex-see-ya)