Trust me - I'm a Ginger!

“We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone - but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy” - Walter Anderson

I don't trust anymore. It's true. I find it very hard to trust anyone to the point of sharing with them anything about me.

And it's not just me. Walk up to anyone and ask them a personal question and watch them look at you as if you ask them for their kidney. People in today's society have a VERY hard time trusting each other anymore. Why? Because everyone is out for themselves now. Most do and say things that make them feel better about themselves, instead of trying to help others. Its common practice to put people down, tear them apart, topple them over, or make them feel small in order to add their own self-worth.

I've read about it. I've seen it. And I've lived it way too many times.

For example, I used to dance - a lot. I would dance at parties, weddings, at home, in the street. It didn't matter if there was a dance floor, what type of music was playing, or who was around, I would dance. I love to dance. I always have and probably always will. However, I don't dance in front of anyone anymore. Someone I trusted very much walked in once while I was dancing. He laughed at me. While he says it was because he thought it was "cute," it has made me feel a little self-conscious about dancing from that day on.

I also used to sing a lot, too. If a song came on the radio or TV that I like or knew the words to, I sang it. I loved Karaoke, and did it with my kids quite often when they were growing up. I was singing a song I loved and was truly enjoying myself when a loved one - whom I trusted - told me, "You know, you don't sing as well as you think you do. You're not a good singer." I never thought I was Celine Dion or Whitney Houston, but I had won my fair share of awards for my singing, and performed many a solo in my day. I thought I was a pretty good singer - until then. Needless to say, I haven't sang (for real anyway; I'll move my lips and act like it if the need arises) in public or with anyone around since.

I didn't wear red for years because someone told me it looked awful with my red hair.

I gave away my cowboy boots because I was laughed at and told I was "trying too hard to be taller."

And my most favorite of all times ... "You better hope you're smart, 'cause you sure as hell aren't pretty."

If people that are closed to me, that I know and love and are supposed to love me back, (especially those who are family and well, they are kind of supposed to have to love me) if they can say such hurtful and mean things with such ease, why should I trust that anyone else will do any different. Why is it that those who are closest to me tell me how awful I am, but people I have never met face-to-face in my life will tell me how great I am - yet, I can't believe them?

I want to trust in what I feel, what I think, and what I want. More than anything, I want to trust myself.

Wouldn't it be great if we could just trust ourselves and not care what others thought or felt about us? I would love to walk into a party or an event in a pair of flair bottom faded blue jeans that have been Bedazzled down both sides, a white sweater with the big arms, and big, feathered 80s hair and have the time of my life dancing and singing all night long, not caring who's staring, pointing, laughing, or posting my picture on Facebook with some stupid caption to make me seem silly. Maybe I will do that ... someday.

No! I'm tired of waiting on "someday." I'm going to make my own "someday" happen.

In fact, I'm going to make all of you a deal, right now:

Within the next year - 365 days - I will do exactly as I described (I'll do my best to get the clothing as close as possible!) if YOU tell me one similar thing that YOU are willing to do in return. If I get at least 5 people to respond - game on!

You have my word!

Trust me! I'm a Ginger!

Welcome to the Gingerhood!

Hi. In case you haven't guessed it yet, I'm a "Ginger." Don't know what a "ginger" is? Well, its a term that is used to describe (and in some cases label) someone who has been blessed (yes, I said blessed) with red hair. For a lot of my life I hated the fact that I was a ginger. I've heard all the names:

Carrot top (the first time I heard this one, I was in elementary school)

Annie

Hot head

Fire crotch

Red-headed step child

And there's lots more ... but you get the point.

Then, one day, a very, VERY handsome man told me that he loved my hair, thought it was very pretty and very sexy. I laughed. I thought he was crazy. I mean, who REALLY likes a redhead - unless they have some type of fetish, right? As he told me this over and over again, I began to think that maybe it's not such a curse. As I was more accepting of my ginger locks, I began to receive more compliments regarding my hair.

Maybe it isn't so bad to be born a ginger. I know a lot of women who pay good money to have their hair colored so they can join in the Gingerhood!

Thanks for stopping by to visit. I hope you come back soon, and often, to share in the ups and downs of my life as a Ginger - and a wife, and a woman, and a mother, and a grandmother, and a friend, and a writer, and a photographer, and a mental health advocate, and ...

... okay, so I wear a lot of damn hats. It's crazy, but being a Ginger makes all those hats look GREAT on me!