"Support You Need"

Wedges are an incredible invention for the female foot. If you’re looking for support when it comes to heels then a wedge is your new best friend.

Before I discovered wedges, I thought that my feet had to forever suffer in heels with tiny arches between the platform and heel. You’re already putting all of your weight unto your toes when you wear high heels, specifically your big toes, so the fact that there’s not a lot holding the rest of you up is kind of scary. Talk about no support.

Wedges allow you to rest the arch of your foot more confidently in your shoes. Also, most wedges have more to them to hold your foot in place. I have a huge problem of my feet popping out of heels when I walk, which can be dangerous because you’re pretty high up, so when I wear wedges that have a buckle or weaved straps the fear of the foot pop definitely decreases. Wedges are a little heavier because it’s like a block of wood you’re lifting up every time you take another step, but it’s worth it to be steadier and in less pain.

My mom came up a few weeks ago for my 21^st birthday and we went to the mall together. Like I figured she would, she just handed me cash instead of buying me gifts herself which was completely fine with me!

I wasn’t planning on buying shoes either. For once I didn’t think I needed any since Jake just bought me shoes for my birthday the week before. I told myself to spend my money more wisely on things like a dress to wear to dinner or some yoga pants I’ve needed.

I recently moved into a different room in my house because my friend Danielle moved out. I decided to take her room to be closer to my kitchen, bathroom and friend Melanie. The move went smoothly except for the fact that my box spring to my queen sized mattress couldn’t fit up the stairs, so my mattress is on the floor and also my closet was MAJORLY downsized.

My closet in my old room was literally a walk in closet with three huge racks on the side that I loaded with my shoes. They obviously couldn’t all fit very neatly, but it was still nice to go in there and stand in front of them, seeing them all at once and get to contemplate which ones went with my outfit. There’s no closet in my new room. There is a rack that I can hang my clothes on and a shelf that isn’t even a foot of space between the rack and the ceiling.

I have no where to put my shoes.

I try to line them up on top of the plastic drawers but the clothes knock them down and I can’t even see them. I knew I didn’t want to buy new shoes, and I know it’s shallow, but part of the reason was my itty bitty closet with no room for my shoes.

But my mom and I ended up going to DSW, solely for her. So, I tried to follow her around and avoid my favorite section. I even got the hiccups while there and had to do a handstand in the middle of the store to get rid of them, but it still wasn’t enough of a distraction. And when I saw these puppies, I was in love immediately.

My mom actually pointed them out and told me she’d probably trip and die if she wore them. I took that as a challenge.

“I bet I can walk completely normal in them.”

“Prove it.”

I found my size immediately, since the shoe they put on display is always the smallest size available. I put them on and I was suddenly really tall. My mom wasn’t even around anymore since she had already moved onto the next row where she was trying shoes on. I followed her into the next isle wearing the wedges, carrying my other shoes, the box, my purse and shopping bags. She was sitting on the bench looking down at her feet in new shoes and her eyes went from my wedges up to my face.

“Wow. I can’t believe you can walk in those.”

“Are you really surprised though?”

“Not really, but I couldn’t.”

I told her that they were actually really comfortable. I even made her try them on, which she did. She stood up in them for about five seconds before she decided there was no way and she kicked them off.

I walked up and down the aisles and she did too in the shoes she wanted to buy. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to even buy the wedges. I kind of just wanted to prove to my mom that I could walk in them. But now that I was wearing them, I couldn’t stop.

My mom actually convinced me to buy them.

“You’re going to regret it if you don’t. They look really good on you.”

Sold!

When it comes to support, wedges are the way to go. But when that isn’t enough, I always rely on my mom for support. When she came to visit two weeks ago, it was the first time that I felt like we were equals. More like really good friends than like mother and daughter. Of course, we always have that mother/daughter relationship, but it was the first time in my life that I felt like we connected on a different level.

I felt I could open up more to my mom and be myself. We joked about things that we don’t usually talk about and I found myself revealing things about myself I wasn’t sure I even wanted her to know, which she welcomed without judgment. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that I’m older now or if it was because we’d spent more time apart but the connection was undeniable and more mature.

I love my mom. Like all parent/child relationships, we’ve had our ups and downs but we’ve always been close. I always went to my mom with every problem, success and funny story growing up, but I used to think when I was older that I wouldn’t need my mom so much.

            But I realized I couldn’t be more wrong. If anything I need my mom even more now. My mom is one of the few people I will call when I’m crying (which is one of my least favorite things to do since I like to wallow in my loneliness when I cry). My mom knows how I deal with heartache; my mom knows what to say to make my stubborn self see a different perspective. It’s not always what I want to hear but she knows I need to hear it.

            

          The other day I was having one of the darkest days I’ve had in a long time. My boyfriend and I had heard news that our friend from home passed away and we went home for a week to attend the services. I found myself questioning everything. What was the meaning of my life? Why do some people die and others don’t? How do we recover? Can we keep someone alive through memories or do those die too? Why am I alive?

            I wallowed for hours in my misery as I cried for the friend we had lost and the pain of our friends and family. I felt helpless and, for once in my life, hopeless. I texted my mom, because I couldn’t bring myself to call her yet.

          

          “I’m having a hard time right now and I think it’s because I’ve been holding everything in all week,” I wrote.

           

          “I wish I was there to give you a hug. It will hit you at different times. Try to keep your mind occupied.”

            

         “I’m trying. I just feel hopeless.”

            

        “Sad, but not hopeless. Never hopeless,” she responded.

           

          A little while after this, I decided to call her. She told me this forcefully, as if she was telling me this was what I needed to do and it wasn’t an option. Suddenly, it wasn’t what I should do, it was what was necessary.

           

         “Take that overwhelming pain and turn it around into something positive,” she said. “Instead of wondering why you’re alive and others aren’t, think about all the things you can do because you’re alive. Think about all the experiences that are coming for you. You have so much to look forward to.”

          

          Slowly, I gained a new outlook. I was seeing the bright side and remembering the good things rather than obsessing about what I can’t control.

            When you’re looking for support when it comes to shoes wedges are where it’s at, but if you’re looking for support when it comes to everything else, don’t deny the power of your mother to make everything seem okay again. 

"Barefoot Moment"

This post is a little untypical of my blog, but I wanted to share a "barefoot" side of me with all of you.

I’ve been having those days where “everything-I-wear-looks-horrible.”

Everything I try on lately, clothes or shoes, I absolutely hate and I immediately rip it off of me and throw it on my floor, which results in cumbersome piles of clothing and shoes constantly covering my floor. I’m sure most girls, and some boys, can relate to those days where everything just doesn’t look right. It’s frustrating, time-consuming and confidence deflating.

I believe it may be stemming from my anxiety.

I’ve always had anxiety in my life but it has only been recently that I’ve actually been diagnosed. I have always obsessed about things that are unimportant. I worry about things that haven’t even happened yet, to the point of making myself physically sick. And I’m not worrying about what I’m going to do after college, or difficult tests coming up but rather, I worry that I will be stalked, not be able to have children, that someone I love will die abruptly, or that I will get in a car accident. I don’t always voice these concerns, because I know that they are irrational, and because of this my body takes a beating.

I need a set schedule and a plan for everyday. If I don’t have a plan, I become depressed. If I don’t have a schedule, I’m anxious and shaky. I try to be spontaneous but it’s not that easy.

I am also overly conscious of my appearance, the words I say and the way I am perceived by others. I am a perfectionist and if someone gets the wrong impression of me, I think about it until the point of an obsession with someone I barely know. Sometimes I don’t even voice my opinion because I am afraid it will give someone a bad taste in their mouth. There are other times when I won’t leave my house because I don’t look good enough to make the right impression in someone’s mind of who I truly am. I’ve spent a lot of time in my life worrying what someone thinks I am, how I look to them and how I sound to them.

I believe this is why I have such a large quantity of clothes and of shoes. It is also why I am so picky about what I wear on my body. I want each piece of clothing, each pair of shoes to express who I truly am. Although I see no problem with that aspect of it, the way I go about it is the thing that bothers me. I wish I was more able to be carefree and realize that there will be those “everything-I-try-on-looks-horrible” days.

But lately, I’ve been getting help and I’ve been realizing I’m not alone. Today at SUNY Oswego, we had quest day, which is a day of presentations that students and some teachers give about their fields of study. I’m part of a mental health club on campus called Active Minds and today they had an event called “Send Silence Packing” which included around 1,000 backpacks that represented the number of college students that had commit suicide every year. Each backpack has a story of someone who has committed suicide. It was powerful.

As I walked around and read each backpack, I found lots of similarities. One was that each story was equally upsetting and the next was that many of the stories included people that suffered from a mental illness.

I was brought to tears several times as I made my way around the bags, but there was one that especially stood out. It was a backpack that had a story from a mother talking about her son who had suffered from extreme anxiety over the smallest things and finally killed himself to relieve the pain. I’ve never thought of killing myself, but it was a startling moment when I realized that I’m not alone. It was also a startling moment when I realized what can happen if you don’t get help.

Anxiety is hard for people to understand, just as any other mental illness. It’s easy to say, well just stop feeling like that. But it doesn’t work like that. I have constant thoughts but I know I can’t suppress them, ignore them or let them get to me. People tell me that I have a great relationship, a supportive family, a good financial situation and amazing friends, and I know all of that. I am so grateful. But being grateful doesn’t mean that I don’t have anxiety. I acknowledge that I am lucky and I know that other people are worse off than I am, but that doesn’t diminish how I feel and I’ve finally accepted that.

Anxiety is something I’ve always had and probably will always have. I just have to learn to deal with the anxiety. I’ve been trying to put things on lately and tell myself that I look beautiful and not to worry about what others think. But it’s a struggle and it’s something that requires constant reminding. I tell myself that my anxiety allows me to be a better person. It allows me more empathy for others, more hope that things will get better and the ability to improve myself.

From the outside, it may not appear that I’m dealing with anxiety. I try to present myself as okay to everyone else, because I don’t think that my anxiety defines who I am. It’s a part of me and I accept it, but there’s a lot more to me. I don’t feel sorry for myself either. I used to. But as I grew older I learned to embrace it, deal with it and move on to the rest of my life.

Basically, the reason I am writing this is to tell you that you’re not alone. Whether you have a mental illness or you know someone that does, you’re not alone. I tried for many years to hide my anxiety from people but lately I’ve become proud of it. You may believe that no one knows what you’re going through or that someone will judge you, and they might, but you also must realize that there are so many people who understand you. I’ve come to find that a lot more people in our world are good than bad. 


It's okay to be "barefoot" sometimes. 

"Rock It: Sex and the City Style"

One of my all time favorite shows is Sex and the City.

If you’re a girl, I don’t really see any way around it. Although the show is no longer being filmed today, there are constant marathons on television and always re-run episodes on HBO.  The show follows four best friends, Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha, in New York City during the 90’s as they navigate their way through relationships and difficult dilemmas. They always look fabulous in the series, but they show their vulnerability as well and it’s effortless to connect with the characters. The show is full of incredible fashion, sex, amazing parties, sexy men and inspiring messages. C’mon girls…what’s not to love?

The show of course revolves around sex and the characters intimate relationships, but a lot of times the big stars of the show are the shoes.

Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha are all obsessed with fashion and there are even episodes that are dedicated to shoe topics. There is an episode where Charlotte receives free shoes at an expensive boutique because she lets the store clerk with a foot fetish touch her feet, and another episode where Carrie’s shoes are stolen at a party where the rule was to leave shoes at the door and she stands up for herself and asks the hostess to buy her the same shoes back.

In the big movie debut of “Sex and the City” the catalyst that brings Carrie back into Mr. Big’s arms are the shoes that she left back at their apartment that she goes to pick up.

 Whenever I watch Sex and the City, I’m always inspired to go try on some of my heels and walk around my house pretending to be fashionable and like I have a long line of men interested in me. It’s hard not to want to be these women. Sure they have their issues, but they look damn good.  They also have amazing friendships and jobs I would kill for (writer, public relations, lawyer, art gallery owner).

Plus these women walk around in heels like it’s nothing. Oh, brunch at 8am? Oh, an art Gallery opening where I’ll be on my feet for eight hours? Let’s go to the park? I think I’ll wear my heels. Now that is dedication to the shoes.

I know it’s a TV show, but I like to think that there are real women that are confident enough to wear high heels around constantly.

I wish that I could wear my heels more often than I do. But when you live in Oswego or Plattsburgh NY, you stand out like a sore thumb in certain situations.  There have been times where I’ve literally been stared at and whispered about for walking into the Olive Garden with five inch heels. There was even a time I went to the local movie theatre and a girl flat out asked me “who I thought I was?” Apparently the fellow women customers wearing baggy sweat pants and their hair in messy buns didn’t approve. 

I get that heels are intimidating in general, but I also think the confidence that comes with wearing heels is intimidating too. Women can get jealous when other women can pull off heels. I’ve never understood that. If you want to, then get it girl! Who am I to stop you?

It’s funny how a small nasty look or a rolling of the eyes can make a person immediately deflate. You thought you looked good today, you’re ready to go and then suddenly here’s some jealous girl making you feel inadequate...ugly even.  

I say take that power away from them.

Walk confident. Hold your head high. If there’s anything I’ve realized over the years dealing with girls, is that if they are really that concerned with your style you should take it as a compliment. They’re obviously jealous. They wouldn’t say it or give you a dirty look if they weren’t. They’re jealous you look good and they’re jealous that they don’t.

Now, I try to wear high heels when I want. I try and wear any kind of shoe when I want. When I got to college, I learned that people, no matter what age, will always be trying to put you down and trying to make you feel inadequate. Don’t let them get to your head and don’t let them affect your style. Your style is an expression of who you are and if they don’t like who you are then forget them. Do you really think Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha would have let someone who didn’t like them ruin their style? Walk like the girls on Sex and the City…like you were born in high heels. Like it's no easy feat to be incredibly confident. 

Just like how you can dislike a certain kind of shoe, people are bound to dislike you. It’s just whether you let it change you or not. Well, I say no. Haters are going to hate. I say be who you are, walk in your heels, wear what you want. If you feel comfortable, if you’re happy and if you think you look good, then rock it. 

"Birthday Shoes"

My 21^st birthday is coming up in about a week and although I’m not a huge fan of celebrating birthdays I’m actually excited for it. 

Obviously, I’m turning 21 so I’ll be legal to drink, but I’m also getting the tattoo I want finally. My best friend Shevawn, mom and step-mom are all coming to visit me within the next two weeks to help me celebrate. And I’m finally feeling happier than I have in a long time.

A big reason I’m not crazy about my birthday is because I’ve always felt awkward receiving gifts. I’m not sure how to act. What do I say? What if I don’t express well enough how thankful I am? What if I can’t really use it? How long do I have to keep it until it’s acceptable to throw away?

Christmas is different because I’m receiving gifts but I’m also giving them too. On my birthday everyone gives me gifts and it feels strange and uncomfortable to me.

I never know what to say when someone asks me what I want. What do I want?

Don’t get me wrong, I love thoughtful gifts…I’ve just gotten extremely good at awkwardly receiving them.

I’m pretty sure my parents are aware of this because for the last few birthdays they usually just let me pick things out and then they buy them while I stand behind them asking if they’re sure and repeatedly thanking them.

I’ve always been stingy with my money since I was a kid. I wouldn’t buy something unless I was in love with it (or it was MAJORLY on sale and too good to pass up). I’m not called the “bargain queen” for nothing! I think my Mom knew I was majorly cheap at a very young age. I was always more attracted to the clearance section of the store.

I’ve never been one for expensive brands or designer labels. If it looks good, feels good and is a good price it’s alright with me. That’s exactly how I am with shoes. I don’t discriminate against people who like designer labels but I just don’t see the point. I mean what sounds better…buying one pair of shoes for 500$ or buying 3 pairs of shoes for 100$? No one can see a shoe label when your feet are it anyway.

My boyfriend, Jake, took me to the Syracuse mall yesterday determined to buy me shoes for my birthday. He told me I could wear them “out” when I turn 21. He’s not exactly a women’s shoe stylist so of course, it was my job to pick them out.

“You can get any shoes babe, seriously. Any price,” he told me.

Then I just whined a lot about how he doesn’t have to do this and how I feel guilty, to which he kindly told me to just “shut up and accept the fact that he’s buying me shoes.” I know he’s tight on money and I’ve always been extremely independent. I’ve always paid for myself and before him I had never really been with a guy that wanted to pay for me.

He convinced me that he wanted to buy me shoes for my birthday.

My love of shoes overcame my dislike of receiving gifts.

“Are you just buying me these shoes so that I write a blog about you?” I asked him as we drove to the mall.

“No, I just know you love shoes, but you’ll probably write about it anyway.”

I hate when he’s right.

We don’t like buying each other gifts. He knows I’m uncomfortable with it and he is too. I pinky promise him every Valentine’s Day that I’m not just saying that I don’t want anything, and it’s not some girl code tricky game I’m playing, I just literally don’t want anything.

We got to the mall and we went to pretty much every shoe store. The first place we went in was Famous Footwear and I found these shoes.

I was strangely attracted to them. They’re not something I’d usually pick up but I tried them on regardless.

“What do you think?”

“I think you look really tall,” he laughed. “But they’re kind of badass.”

Jake knows “badass” is a word I’ve been addicted to lately. My new tribal owl tattoo is going to be “badass” and my new leather jacket is “badass” and my new outlook on life is “badass.”

These shoes are basically awesome. Not only am I about 5 inches taller in them, I walk more easily in them than other heels I own and I feel so sexy. The chunky heel is an amazing invention. Why did it take me so long to realize that stiletto heels are like toothpicks waiting to be snapped? The thick platform helps out a lot too. I’ve never had a more comfortable pair of heels. I’ve also never had a more expensive pair of heels since most of my heels were on clearance. Don’t get me wrong…the price of these shoes was slashed $20 dollars from the original price…which may have been part of what attracted me to them. Don’t you know me at all?

The three different colors go with anything. They’re all basic colors: black, nude and cream. They complement each other without clashing.

I fell in love with these shoes immediately and although they were a reasonable price, I still felt guilty about him buying them for me. I freaked out for a while, put them on hold, went to seven other shoe stores and then was convinced they were the ones I wanted when I found the same ones at a different shoe store and tried them on again.

When you love something you just know. It reminded me of when I fell in love with Jake, which happened when I was about eight years old. I did, however, I wait around for ten years to ever do anything about it. Now we’ve been together for three years and it feels like a worn in pair of shoes that never go out of style.