Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Seek More Hugs

I think too often I put the needs of others before my own.

This creates good karma, I hear. Good, I'm happy to hear that. And I'm always there to help or lend a hand or a shoulder to cry on. However, I find that this gets taken for granted. And due to loyalty, I forgive or let those taking me overstay their welcome. Am I too forgiving? Too understanding? Too empathizing? Wherein, they see this pillar of stone that seems defy the laws of physics - and ability to crack, tear or erode over time - and it's I'm not like that.

Delicate like a flower frozen by snow, blown by wind or trampled by the feet of those so self-involved they forget to look down to maintain the beauty presented by chance in life.

Often I find that the most violent, hardened people are just soft survivors once you get to know them. The other 10% are probably just insane. No child is born violent. We are born weak and needing and require touch and love and attention to grow and flourish. Without that, we are lost.

Perhaps that's why parents come in pairs. You need the parents to care for the child, but also to care for one another. Sometimes I feel I lack that in a lot of relationships - or all shapes and sizes and denominations and levels. I care for another person and I do so in spite of myself. I get lost in their problems and making sure they're okay. And then I'm not.

Good trait. Bad trait. Something in the middle? I don't know, but I realize relationships all should sustain revolving evaluation. Also, I like hugs and should seek more of them.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

That Look

"One day, I'll find just that friend who can see : all this weird beauty : thrown right at me"

If someone could love me like that - with an audience and lights and distractions in front of him - he stares only at me - that look - I could be a very happy girl. For now, I'll admire the music. It gives me hope that love like this is out there. And it makes wonderful music together.

(The Tallest Man on Earth - "Thrown Right at Me")

Monday, February 27, 2012

A Strange Sadness

After a restless night, the morning renews and I find a sadness striking me; a want perhaps, a yearning; a need for something new and changing. Rather inexplicable to be struck with such a strange sadness. My feet are in the mud and perhaps it is fleeting or the last of my hope being expelled through my breath, but the the sadness was palpable - one thousand invisible knives to the gut.

Never in my life have I ever wanted to simply erase a person or a moment in time. I find lessons in everything; reflection. I find comfort in these lessons – and growth. There has been no lesson of the last four months, aside from awakening a nagging need for another person that sat dormant for quite some time. I find myself for the first time in nearly a decade thinking I might be done being alone again.

I wish I didn’t think that. Five months ago I wanted nothing more than to be by myself, and then a little windstorm with glasses popped up and changed everything. I was scared and nervous and spent a lot of time wanting to run away then convincing myself that I shouldn’t be afraid; to tear down the walls and let someone in. Then I convinced him of his youth and need for time and space. Now I sit, with my heart awakened again to the possibilities of love and partnership(s) and loneliness.

There is a vast difference, I find, in loneliness and being alone. Perchance I jinxed myself or maybe it’s just one of those days. But rarely do I find myself without a person to talk to or something to do - and, perhaps, it is just the day I’m in and the toss-and-turned lack of sleep in last night’s slumber that has manifested in the want of another and feeling that, without it, I’m somewhat empty - but this morning I woke up feeling very much alone.

An alone that five months ago I welcomed; I thrived in. I had myself and who else did I need? I’m not sure what’s changed; a new spring in the air? I’m so mad at this person for pursuing me; for reviving a heart that sat happily alone and setting it to their beat, then leaving it bleeding out. I’m so pissed off that I was good before and now I often think about being without; and without closure. My hope is lost in a field of uncertainty and immeasurably hurt feelings. I feel I have been lied to and betrayed – and not just by this one person – but by the universe. When it is my turn?

I fix so many men. I send them off better people. I know this because they return to tell me – and thank me. They find love and, in turn, employ what my time with them had taught them. And here I am, broken again – now wanting the invisible – in the path of another girls’ blind and fury, where she broke him, I tape him back together and someone else benefits. At a certain point, my charity runs out and it just begins to sting like an ocean of bees. Where is the one that was fixed just for me?

It’s getting old. In the longest month of my life, I can’t stand it. I want my mind back. I wish I could wipe him of my memory. I don’t understand why this all still troubles me – and why, with all the bruises, my soul was awakened and sits, still, waiting for the next. There is no resolve, I know, but if time passes no faster than the last twenty-eight days, I fear a weakness may grip me.

I hope tomorrow feels better. The future is bright. It has to be.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Chicken Scratch and Bobby Brown

I was in the office kitchen - making my daily grilled chicken salad lunch - when I was thinking about Whitney Houston. And how, essentially, it was Bobby Brown's fault she died. I wondered how someone could love someone and feed them the poison that might end their life. That's not love, I thought: Love should not kill you. I came back to my desk - salad in hand - and chicken scratched my ideas about "love".

Love should not kill you, wilt or weaken you. Love should make you stronger. Wiser. Better.
Love should not compromise who you are, but make you into a better version of who you were. 
Love should not make you cry or age you. Love should make you laugh with the innocence of youth. 
Love should not be a burden. Love should lift your spirit and complete your soul.
Love should compliment you - it should never take you apart or tear you down.
Love is a gift that makes us feel whole where before the space never existed; and without it, you don't want to.
Love is a moment in time where you sit back and laugh about nothing at all. All the time. 
Love will find you when you least expect it; surprise you when you least suspect it.

(song of the moment)

Monday, February 20, 2012

Lust for Love -- And the Like

I wondered how long it would take. How long before the questions about marriage from my family would start. In fact, I'm rather shocked it took this long. When I was 21, I was certain and scared I'd found who I would be with forever. Then the years move forward, life changes you and the couple grows apart. At 25, you find the strength to do what you should have done at 23: And you're single again.

While in the relationship, a large - and growing - part of my problem was the fact that I had never had that chance to be single. After barely any single time between 17 and 20, I met The Ex: the big one; the one I refer to as "the divorce". I was 20 when we met. Shortly after we began dating, he went to Egypt to work for a summer and that entire time I was waiting for him, I was obsessed with living vicariously through watching Sex and the City. Even before things started to fall apart, the stories of Carrie and her friends - the stories I thought I'd never have - began to haunt me. I never got to be single; what stories will I tell my kids, I thought. When the relationship ended, I was excited to finally dip my toes in the pool of Singleworld: This mythical land of dating and heartbreak and stories and idiots and intrigue and and oh the excitement! I knew I'd fall on my face. I knew I'd come face-to-face with idiots and heartache. I knew that. But that's exactly what I wanted. And I ran with it. Well, first I ran face first into a wall my swatter.

Note: I have a tendency to create my own catch phrases or personal references, if you will. Here are a few:
  • Swatter: That random hook-up after you break up with a (serious) boy/girlfriend you need in order to move on from the past relationship. They are not a type that you were ever go for were you seeking a serious relationship and are likely below your standards.
  • PB/J: To PB/J something is to play it out until it's no longer appealing. Often I do this with music: If I like a song a lot, I will play it on repeat until I can't stand to listen to it anymore. (Two weeks later it's on the radio.) After a few of months, I can bring it back into rotation. I also tend to do this with food; hence the phrase. See also: People, movies, tv shows. 
  • Dino Arm: You know when you're spooning and you're the little spoon and that arm that's underneath you is just awkward and all you can really move is your hand - or at the most, your arm up to your elbow? That's a dino arm. Why? Because of this. And then I found this too.

Anyway, the swat: I find the swatter period to last about 3 to 6 months, then we all tend to return to normal. I spent about seven months in Singleworld, gathering stories (peruse blog for some). Then a weird thing happened, after those seven months, I started swatting the first said swatter on the regular and fast-forward 18 months and that turned into this and he eventually became the Pink Elephant.  Ridiculous, yet good, stories, but it is time to stop the journalism? Or am I just getting started? I wonder, because despite my desire for the stories, I'm a monogamist at heart.

Since The Ex, I haven't found  anybody who I felt that I could be with - like really be with - at least until recently. I think that's what I was afraid of with the Halloween Guy. When he started acting strange (so I started acting strange), it reminded me of how I felt with the Pink Elephant. It reminded me of all the time I wasted there; all the opportunities maybe I missed. How I wasn't happy; I wasn't myself. And I don't have time for that anymore, because more than anything, I want children. I want a family. And next year I'll be 30. I don't have time to waste. I mean, I'm not in a hurry (at 35 I'll start to worry); I just don't have the time (or energy) to waste. Or maybe I'm just too smart for that now.

I don't know if I'm quite done being selfish and free. What I do know is that despite the heart ache, I  realize all the lessons that come with it: And that being alone is better than being unhappy with someone and settling. My family seems to worry that I'm 28 and still single, but I have met the most amazing people in the world because of my lust for love - and the like. 

What prompted this entry was a post where George Clooney said: 

I have been infinitely more alone in a bad relationship; there's nothing more isolating. I have been in places in my life where that has existed.

So, am I engaged, grandma? No. No I'm not. Does that mean I'm lonely? No. No it does not. It just means he hasn't found me yet. The loneliest I've ever been was to be with someone with whom I no longer belonged. The fighting; the bickering; the anxiety is awful: I'd rather be alone than part of that, but it doesn't mean we never belonged together, just that our time meant together had ended. That happens and it's normal, I have come to find. Each broken heart is a time for self-reflection. Every man I've loved and loved me back will always have a place in my heart. A heart that makes room for new people every day; room that's needed because all the heartbreaks and bruises have paved the way for friendships and love I never knew I wanted until I got the stories I never thought I'd have. 

Thursday, February 16, 2012

"The shower's in the toilet!"

This will be my life for my two weeks riding around New Zealand. I hope that I can shower in the toilet with the same enthusiam as LeVar Burton. That's amazing!!

Oh boy!

Monday, February 13, 2012

On Finding My Grace

“Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.” ― E. Gilbert

I think we all get a little lost sometimes. Like a cataclysm, ever since I realized I had to let go of something I finally thought I deserved to have, I’ve felt in a bit of a tailspin: From uncharacteristically passing out on a party bus, to pseudo-impulsive trips across the earth (don't get me wrong, I'm still excited about this), to drunken freak-outs in a cab with strangers – to which the cab driver was apparently my therapist. He told me it was all okay. And I don’t know why I have his phone number. Odd. He probably thought: There is something seriously wrong with that girl and bitches got issues. I did. I do: All wounds need time to heal. But I am not a bitch. I’m generous and kind and forgiving – I just got lost a minute. And I wish the world would return the favor. It’s not ready yet, okay, I have to accept that and re-find my footing - sans the world's help. I lost balance again, because just before we'd met, I was just finding it after a long and drawn out mess -- and it didn’t have time to set.

Then, I got wrapped up in the guy; I felt my balance slip beneath his apprehensions. I had to let go of something I wanted with all of my heart because I knew, in my head, it wasn’t time: My feelings turning reminiscent of the mess. And I realize it was more than him. Now that I’ve taken to time to realize – after some volcanically tantamount questionable decisions, drunken nights, self-reflection...and a little Neil Young – that it wasn’t time for me either. Four months ago I was just finding my footing again. I was regaining my balance that had been lost. Trampled, even. I was finding my way. And I was doing it all by myself. I have a horrible tendency to lose myself in others; I realize this is something about myself I need to change. I have to be comfortably independent – and secure with that notion. I had my footing; I made my marks in the sand, then I lost it in the apprehension and reminiscence, but it's time to re-find those footprints and stand firm.

I must find my grace; balance is beauty. And I’ll take this time – the last remaining months of the stars meant to challenge me - and challenge myself. To grow; to take care of me; to become who I want to be; to be proud of the things that I do; and to accept the things I cannot change. Because there is so much truth in these words (that they left me breathless) and I need to love me more most. Something I learned already, but forgot to remember. I remember now; I'll find my grace and re-balance with the delicate footing of life’s challenges. One day it will all come together. 

via post secret week: 2/12/12 (perma)

Does this sound crazy? A little. I'm okay with that. I'll be back to normal soon. Perhaps, even better.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Down to Bound, New Zealand

When you’re twelve years old and flat as a brick wall and pray for boobs, life hands you melons. Then you spend the rest of your adult life trying to manage them and losing weight to keep them manageable and pushing them together and waiting for free drinks. When life hands you lemons, you spend money you don’t have to buy enough sugar to turn sour into sweet. Last year, my sugar was a plethora of stateside trips: Supplemented by the generosity of others – as I was poor, and looking to be less poor. I had a plan to pay off my credit cards over the next 18 months and then I was heartbroken – yet again, thanks life - and, as it turns out, heartbreak is expensive. And I'll have debt forever: I'm only young once! This year, the travel continues - as was my original intent - but sooner than expected. In short, this mofo is going to New Zealand, mother fuckers! Woot.

I had been debating it for months when I learned my sister (who currently resides in Sydney) was renting an RV with her husband and they were taking their two year old daughter on a country-wide road trip around New Zealand. My mother would be joining them. Ever the uber-fan of Lord of the Rings ::nerd-nod::, this was particularly a dreamy trip to me. The trip of a lifetime, I thought. I wanted to go; I’ve never had a Passport as the only times I’ve ever been out of the country were to Canada in 8th grade and the Bahamas when I was 17. What a story for a first international travel, but responsibly I couldn’t afford it and I didn’t have to time off from work. So I told them to count me out and I would try to go on another one of the adventures they plan before they move back. Then, I was crushed. I needed a distraction; some sugar; something to look forward to; and my mommy.

No matter how old we get, we're all still just little kids who need our mommies. 

The Monday after this, I called my mom on my way to work and said “Can I still go to New Zealand?”, amidst tears I didn’t expect to fall. Suddenly bawling, I could barely get the words out “I had to let him go” (which makes me realize that I’ve come far since then, even though it all still bothers me on a very daily basis and it consumes far too much of my mind and more parts of conversations than I wish to admit). She said yes (she didn't want to travel alone either) and to talk to my sister who had to check to see if she could still upgrade to a six-person RV. I talked to my boss to see if I could go into the red with my paid time off. After he spoke to other execs, they all said yes. Then, I emailed my sister, who is 18 hours ahead of us - so the response was delayed – and she said yes, but she’d have to email the RV company to see if any were still available. Then, I immediately made an appointment for a Passport and submitted my application that Tuesday.

Side story: When you apply for a Passport the first time, they take your birth certificate. I was unaware of this. Earlier that morning I learned I was getting security clearance for work (something I’ve wanted for a while), but hadn’t yet started the process. When she stapled my birth certificate to my application, I said with the inflection as if someone had just kicked my dog, “Where is my birth certificate going?”

“With your application,” said the Asian lady taking care of my Passport application. “It will be mailed back to you with your passport.”

“Oh,” I said with a short pause, “but what I need it for something?”

“You can get a duplicate…” she continued speaking but I wasn’t listening and started to think to myself all of the times I needed it in the past 10 years, which was effectively never. Or once. Either way, I figured, I’m safe without it for the next four to six weeks. And off I went, back to work.

Immediately upon returning to work it occurred to me that I may need it for my clearance process, which, yes, you do. So I went back to the Post Office where they refused to return the application (or couldn’t – details), and they told me to go online and request a duplicate. In doing so, I had to validate myself, which – to shorten the story – required me to call my (biological) dad, with whom I’ve not spoken to in nearly a decade. And that was a mindfuck in and of itself. Seriously. ::shudders:: Always a story, here.

So with a few more back and forths, my sister rented the LAST six-person RV (which I have delicately nick-named "Big Bertha") and by Thursday I had my round-trip tickets from California to New Zealand booked. (I still need to finish booking my travel to/from California.) But holy shit and wee! If nothing else comes from the last couple of months of sweet turned sour, at least it gave me the push to pull the trigger and travel – because getting into it, it’s overwhelming and I’m not sure I could have done it alone. And now I get to spend time with my momma. And travel an entire, new, amazing, beautiful country island with my sister, niece, mom and brother-in-law. An absolute story of a lifetime, I’m sure.

And I thought the RV trip from PA to Montana with 13 of us 15 years ago was pretty epic. That's got nothin' on this. :) Let the packing begin...

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Baby Steps

[our only problem was everything was too perfect. and he wasn't ready.]

And when I said I had no hope for us; that I couldn't or I couldn't let go - that line was never as simple as it read. (Remember when I said I had something to explain, then all I could get out was "I don't know"?) I would have fought tooth and nail against what I knew you needed, if I'd held onto what I thought we could be. As it turns out, hope isn't something you can control. I'm not as cold as it came off and none of it has been that easy to dismiss. My hope stands.