I'll Start Here || 1

     Day One:


You're selfish.  You're insecure.  You're weak.  You're such a people pleaser.  You're so lazy.  You're wasting away your life.  You're skin isn't perfect enough to be loved or beautiful.  You're never going to have the strength to change.  Stop thinking, you'll just make your skin worse.  You're not even cool anymore.  You're just a scrawny girl with acne and anxiety.  You're just not good enough for this world.

    I hate myself.

     For as long as I can remember, I've never known how to be almost 100% authentic.  Maybe 50% but never ever 100. In my family, emotions just weren't ever a big priority.  We only showed the world positive emotion and yes, that doesn't sound all that bad, but it wasn't done in the right way.  It wasn't done out of love.  It's hard for me to write about this knowing that it will be released to the world.  I can feel a part of me screaming that this is wrong, this is private.  You must only show the world how good your life is.  But honestly, it's really not all that good.  I've realized two weeks ago that I had no urge to blog anymore because I thought that I must only share what was good.  The last post I put up was not done out of a love for blogging, it was done out of fear.  Fear that I'd lose followers, fear that my blog would be a failure, fear that I'd look like a lost cause to the world.  After that realization, I didn't think I'd ever return to my blog again.  

Anxiety.

     Over a year ago, I shook hands with anxiety.  At the time, I had no idea that the retched feeling that I was experiencing had a name.  I remember typing into Google questions like, "Why do i feel so scared when i talk to people"  or "Why am i no longer funny" or "What happened to my awesome personality".  I didn't know what was wrong with me so I turned to the only person I thought I had:  myself.  I was mentally unstable though.  The only voice existing in my head at the time was my ego or as I label her now, my mean girl.  

    And this is where she lead me...

     

     She told me that I was stupid, ugly, worthless, selfish, unloved, unloving, shallow, insecure, and many many other ugly adjectives.  She reminded me every single day that I wasn't good enough for my dreams.  She led me to times spent watching tears roll down my face while staring at my own reflection.  She led me to judging and comparing my friends and myself.  She led me to heated arguments with my mom.  She led me to blaming other people.  She led me to excessive drinking.  She led me to hooking up with boys I shouldn't have hooked up with.  She led me to grief, hatred, and so much anger.  She led me to spending my senior year staring at the ceiling questioning for hours on end if I'd ever recover from this.  My mean girl led me into a different life that I've been stuck in for over a year, and this is the truth.  I no longer have any interest in being someone I'm not anymore.  Whether that means the girl I loved two years ago or the girl I've been being for the last year. 

Authenticity.

     I'm nervous as hell.  I'm worried that I'm going to fail or mess up.  I'm worried that I'll fall back into old habits and my blog will go vacant and my mind will be a full-time bully again.  This doesn't mean that I'm not going to try though.  I need this for myself.  

     For whoever's listening, I, Sarah Isabel Rose Bertke, am from this day forward taking the leap into my next journey of authenticity.  I don't know where it'll lead me, I don't know if I'll have the strength to keep going, but I'm going to try.  I'm going to try.

Much love, Sarah.

        

Victory Over My Parental Curfew

     

     It's my severe case of senioritis* that's got me always having one foot out the door, car keys in hand and Chuck Taylors on feet; constantly feeling the tug of the invisible thread that beckons me to go on a new adventure.  Whereas my daydreams used to be nothing more than fantasizing over what would happen next in the coming episode of Friends, they've since turned into intricate plans of how to get me out of my house.  I mostly rely on the weekends to subside my wanderlust but even after a rowdy party with friends, no part of my soul wants to go home past midnight.  I am a Cancer the Crab after all.  I come awake under the light of the moon.  It's a part of my nature to want to grab a friend, find a vast open field, and watch the stars all night.  I have a curfew though and my friends have curfews too.  There was simply no escaping the inevitable parental curfew that forbade my soul from having it's sweet, sweet freedom...dun dun dun..or so I thought.  

     I met a person.  He was a tall 6'6" boy with big brown eyes, a knack for adventure, a love for the night, and best of all, no curfew.  I couldn't help but use my Cancer Crab claw and latch on to him in all hopes that he'd latch on to me too.  He did and from that moment forward, he became the key piece to my next big idea.  

     Timing is everything and when it's supposed to happen, it'll happen.  ⇽ Important lesson I've learned this year. 

     The reality that this is my last year at home has begun to sink in.  I'm to move away when this summer ends and it's struck me that I now have a time limit on many of the things I've wished to do since I first became a teenager.  If I allow it, time will not be my friend but if I embrace it, this year could be the best 365 days of my life so far.  

     When I decided that I wanted to sneak out of my house and I mean really decided, everything seemed to fall into place on its own.  I found me a trusty sidekick,  I found me the perfect evening, and I found me the perfect timing.  

FEBRUARY SEVENTEENTH:

      In the earliest hours of Saturday morning, after a Friday night out, I watched as my time awake really began.  The wind slowed, the stars came out, and the adrenaline in my veins spiked.  In my bedroom that night, I changed into something comfortable (a vintage tee, leggings, and a button down denim shirt).  I closed my bedroom door, grabbed a pair of slip on shoes, and turned out the lights.  With shoes in hand, I crept into my closet and out the small white door that led into my studio.  From there it became step, stop, listen, repeat.  Before I knew it, I had found myself turning the last door knob and stepping out into the brisk night air.  I slipped on my shoes and with a huge childish grin on my face, I took off in a full sprint down the lane.  

     I don't remember every detail from that night.  One's mind plays tricks on you when it's supposed to be sleeping.  I do, however, remember the triumph I felt.  Every part of me wanted to punch my fist into the air like John Bender at the end of The Breakfast Club over and over again.  It felt really good to just do something so childish and immature. So damn good. 

     The brown eyed boy was parked on the edge of the road, his big black truck my golden chariot.  We didn't drive off into the sunrise or do anything of that nature.  We only listened to music and the hours became filled with laughter and giggles when we picked up and dropped off his dad, older brother, and their friends from a bar.  It was captivating to see and experience a whole different life from the one I grew up so used to.  My family was at home sleeping whereas his was still wide awake, laughing, and being completely open with each other.  There was no filter on what came out of their mouths and to me, in that moment, it was beautiful.  

     The brown eyed boy and I didn't have time to ourselves again until 4am when we were finally able to slap happy-ishly stumble our way down the steps to his basement.  We talked, froze time, and talked some more for an hour.  When 5am came around, we started the drive home to my house in a race to beat the sun.  We laughed, froze time when we could, and drove on.  

     I ended up making it back to my bed uncaught and tired, but still buzzed on the high that that morning had given me.  I was for just a few hours able to let go of the anxieties and chains that hang over the heads of us teenagers in today's society.  Time didn't feel alive during those hours awake.  It was life that did.  Life felt alive and life for once didn't feel like it was betraying me.  Life felt good.  Life is good. 

*Senioritis (n.) (pronounced senior-eye-tis) - A crippling disease that strikes high school seniors. Symptoms include: laziness, an over-excessive wearing of track pants, old athletic shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, and sweatshirts. Also features a lack of studying, repeated absences, and a generally dismissive attitude. The only known cure is a phenomenon known as Graduation. (Shoutout to Urban Dictionary for the perfectly described definition)

P.S.  Aunt You-Know-Who, I know you're reading this and I'm trusting you with the obvious here... ;)

Dream big, Darlings!

My Ring Collection

      

    I've purchased rings from:

Lulus  ||  American Eagle  ||  Rue21

    Rings hold a special place in my heart.  To me, they've never been just a silver, bronze, or gold band used as a fashion accessory or a symbol of love.  To me, they've always been positive energy and good right-brain vibes.  Without one on my finger, I've felt naked and not myself, like I've lost my individualism.  To me, they've always been close to magic.  They awake, enlighten, and inspire the inner creative side of me.  I don't know how to explain it.  They simply make me a realer me.

What's your favorite type of jewelry to wear?

P.S.  If you've read this post, you know that I've really wanted to start blogging every other day.  For a week, I was pursing my goal successfully when one wild Saturday evening.............I tripped myself, whacked the crap out of my head on a door-frame, and gave myself an actual concussion.  Try writing a post when you're head feels like you've been drinking Vodka instead of water for a week...  Life - 1 Sarah - 0 

Dream big, Darlings!

Bliss & Liveliness || Blog Goals

     There are few feelings more lovely than finding what you love and desire, a passion.  The key is to not wait around for the "perfect moment" to pursue this passion.  Ten years from now, you'll find yourself still waiting for that "perfect moment".  But, Darling, imagine if you just did it...TODAY.  Imagine then where you'd be in ten years!

BLOG GOALS

• Make my blog more me.  If you Google how to increase your blog traffic, the majority of the sites you are directed to will tell you to write about what's "in".  Pish posh.  I want my blog to be uniquely and distinctly my own little happy online baby.
• Make my way up to eventually posting every other day.  Scheduled posts are lifesavers. 
• Get more involved with the Blogger family.  Find.  Follow.  Comment.  Support.

POSTS

• Write about my life being gluten free.
• Share my wellness routine.
• Share my workout routine.
• Write a letter to my future self and share.
• Introduce my cat, Cedric Marley.
• Create a post sharing bloggers, friends, and family's own life philosophies. 
• Share my bucket list.
• Write a personal white texted post
• Do something crazy and share my experience.
• Talk about what it's like to live in a small farm town area.
• Give a room tour via pictures.
• Share my day from morning to evening through photos.
• Share a hair tutorial.
• Explain why my role model is my role model.
• OOTD.
• Host a contest.
• Do a Q & A.
• Share DIY's.
• Make a vlog and share.
• Write about my most prized possession.
• Go a day without technology and write about it.
• Spend a day looking at blogs and share my favorites.
• Once a month, do a post that was voted for by my followers.

Anything in particular you'd be interested in having me write about?  Also, what are some of your blog goals?  I'm curious!

Dream big, Darlings!

Parasailing

challenge: describe parasailing in one sentence.

IT WAS THE MOST

 BEAUTIFUL, 

SERENE, 

BREATHTAKING,

 EXHILARATING, 

PERFECT, 

RELAXING, 

BREEZY

 $100 EXPERIENCE 

I HAVE EVER SPENT MY MONEY 

ON SO FAR 

THAT HONESTLY AND TRULY

FELT LIKE I WAS INSIDE

AN OCEAN BASED

WATERCOLOR PAINTING.

Dream big, Darlings!

My Job 02 - Cleaner

     If you were to surprise visit me and just happen see my bedroom and car in the process, you'd probably ask yourself, how the heck does this girl still have her job as a cleaner? I can't even see her floor!  I mean...you wouldn't be wrong!

     I've always thought it funny that me, a not exceptionally neat person, was asked if I wanted to spend every Thursday night cleaning a landscape business.  I slept on the offer, mulling it over if I really wanted to spend an evening once a week wiping away dust and scrubbing at a man's toilet.  But being a broke-but-not-completely-moneyless teenager, I said the three letter word that starts with a "y".  

      I've been cleaning there for 1 1/2 years now and yesterday, I sent in my two weeks notice because let's face it, cleaning the same building gets old.  I was beginning to feel like a robot and every evening there suddenly became a routine.  I wipe down counters, L vacuums, I clean bathrooms, I empty trash, I clean toilets, L mops, and so on and so on.  There were the fun times though.  We once couldn't figure out how to turn off the hose in the back room once and created a mini flood.  We've hacked onto one of the computers to play Pandora and then deleted it from history once it was time to leave.  We've spent multiple evenings sprinting back and forth so we could get somewhere we'd rather be sooner.  And if the boss man ever checked his security cameras, he'd see multiple dance and jam sessions.

     And that, my friends, was my experience as a glove wearing, bottle spraying cleaner.  Now I just need to find me another job...

Dream big, Darlings!