Saturday, August 27, 2016

Hello again.

It's been awhile since I've blogged. Or written at all. I'm going to start again with no explanation for the gap or any attempt to tie things together. Just, Hello again.

Sunday, June 28, 2015

New Beginning

I lost myself.

I lost me.

I lost myself, only to find I was never "me" to begin with.

I searched the world with my eyes closed. I knew I could find me if I tried, tried, tried.

Instead I found darkness.

I said, "I will do anything..."

I ran straight for the end, determined to win.

I gave up everything. All of it. Everything.

I opened my eyes to see the destruction.

Only to see I'd been given

                                                                      A new beginning.


Tuesday, April 7, 2015

"Together" and what it looks like not to have it.

As I near age 29, I've begun to freak out about turning 30. I never (ever, ever, ever!) thought I'd care about turning 30. Ever. Because obviously I'd have it together by 30. That was the idea anyway. Now that I am nearing that sacred year, I've realized togetherness doesn't just happen with age. And if it does, I have a helluva lot to get done in a year and a half.

Don't get me wrong, I know it's not a requirement to have things together by a certain age, and that "together" is a very loose term that may or may not actually exist in the real world. But it doesn't change the fact that I want it. And that I want it at a reasonable age (any time now would be great). So I've been doing a lot of thinking. Thinking about why I long for this idea of togetherness so desperately. I started thinking about my existence, my choices, all the little and big things that have brought me to this big mess of a life. Then I started thinking about this messy life of mine. It's splattered and seeping with colors. I've spent a lot of time worrying about coloring inside the lines, freaking out when colors run over each other, fighting desperately to keep them separate and in their proper places. I've given up a few times, throwing my paint brush, knocking paint over and letting it spill onto everything. I get extremely overwhelmed when I look at the mess because I have no idea how to clean it up. Can I please just start over?! I scream at the skies, making promises of doing better if I just had a clean start. But then I started thinking about what I'd do if I actually was given a do over. I did a lot of thinking about this, but no matter how I tried to imagine different outcomes, I realized I wouldn't change anything. I couldn't change anything. Because when I took a step back and looked at my life, I saw this amazing, messy, chaotic, beautiful, and surprising picture. I realized my life is not paint-by-numbers but a canvas in the process of being filled. I see the places where I spilled, and where my colors ran together, I see the pain I felt then, and it still hurts, but I also see how those colors make my life what it is. My colors make me who I am. And for once, I kinda like me.

So I'm ok not being together. It still sucks when I get to thinking how much easier it would all be if I had a paint-by-numbers guide. But then I remember that world is a prison. Being free might be messy, but it's my mess. It will all still freak me out, and I might cry about it at times, but then I'll remember my canvas still has space to fill, and I'll pick up my paint brush again. Or maybe I'll get really adventurous and do some finger painting as well.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Joy

I don't know a whole lot about joy, but I've caught glimpses of it and it looks lovely. I do know a lot about happy, excited, even laughter and twinkly-eyed smiles. Those may sounds like the same or similar things, but the biggest difference is that while you can pretend all those things, you can't pretend joy. I know all about pretending, it often comes natural to me. In fact it's almost an art form, like acting or interpretive dance. It can be quite tiring after awhile, and so sometimes you just have to put up your phone and only be around people you can be real with. I'm sure you know this yourself, but that number can get real low, real fast.

Everyone wants to think they are real and that they want others to be real. Being "real" is a real compliment (although rarely accurate). "I'm SO tired of all the bullshit and drama, why can't people just be real?" I'll tell you why. Because real can get real frightening, real quick. And real can be really uncomfortable, even when you think you're ready for it.

I can be a whole lot of real and honest here in internet-land. No one is looking at me, trying to finish my thoughts, trying to match my feelings with some they've felt before (but have now masterfully overcome, of course). Trying to appear like they are listening, when really they are frantically trying to come up with something helpful to say. You know, to fix it. To fix this ugly, dark realness. No one wants to leave you there. I sound like a sarcastic douche, but I really do commend the effort. It's just, it feels more like people are trying to convince you to be ok. And a lot of the time, people won't be satisfied until they are convinced you are ok. And most of the time, it's just a whole lot easier to skip all the bullshit and drama and pretend to be real. Or avoid people. It all depends on the level of energy required.

Back to joy. My new quest in life is to find joy. Real joy. The kind that doesn't go away on a bad day, or when the bad days keep coming. The kind that doesn't need a smile or peppy words to prove it's real. It just is. Because real isn't always ugly, cold, and painful. Real can be quite beautiful, warm, and healing. I am really starting to believe that joy is more than just a back drop to a happy life. I think it may be an epic journey. That's right, epic. One full of adventure, surprise, and even uncomfortable beauty. If my theory is right, I've found breadcrumbs and road signs, but I've gotten distracted more than a few times by the alluring and misleading scenic route--also known as, people-pleasing. Go down that path too long and you'll start to believe joy is just another fairytale, as easy to lose as a stupid (and terribly impractical) glass slipper. I don't think joy is something you find all at once, nor do I think it's something you lose. What I do think is that as you gather the bits and pieces, they add up to something worth living for.

Just thoughts.


Saturday, February 7, 2015

Lemons

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

Am I the only one who hates that stupid phrase?

First of all, lemonade is definitely not my drink of choice (especially not in the middle of winter). Second of all, what if you're out of sugar? What if you are so exhausted, you don't even have the energy to go to the store to buy sugar, much less to squeeze the juice out of life's endless supply of lemons? Even if you own an industrial sized lemon squeezer, making lemonade is quite the work out. Trust me, I worked at McAlister's. So I guess my question is, if you are fresh out of energy and sugar, what are you supposed to do with all these damn lemons? Am I the only one who thinks of these things?

Here is my current theory--although, mind you, I am no expert (even if I did work at McAlister's). When life gives you lemons: stop taking them. Seriously. Slam the door in life's face if you have to. Don't answer the phone. Stop following life on facebook. Just say no. Despite what you may have  been taught as a kid and young adult, you don't have to accept life's freaking lemons. You can say 'no thank you', or give life the finger. Whatever fits. Just make sure you aren't about to back down at some persistence, because life's a bitch, and rarely backs off without a fight. My theory is that, eventually, life's got to figure out that lemons just aren't cutting it and start supplying something else, right? Maybe chocolate? Or coffee? (A girl can dream.)

Life and I are currently in a standoff. I'll let you know how that works out for me.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Warning: Pity Party Commenced

Do you ever feel like you are just not cut out for real life? It's too hard. You look at those who you may have once accused of being coddled and think, Man, they have it made! And your friends who have it even tougher than you and think, How do they do it?? You may dream of beaches, warm sand, the sound of a never ending tide that washes back and forth, tuning out the struggles that weigh so heavily on your frail heart. And then wake up and realize you are still here. In the real world. And boy does it suck.

Too often in life I am caught between the act of dreaming and doing in this awkward and rather claustrophobic spot of surviving. Survival sounds like such a tough word, one used to describe the strong and determined. But if you've ever been there, you know how terribly weak and small it feels. Survival is not on the warm sand by the rhythmic tide, survival is in the midst of the waves. Crashing down on you. Your only job is to keep your head above water, and most of the time that feels like much too much.

Let me clarify... I am in the midst of packing up my house. Again. And to make matters worse, it's the first day of fall. So naturally I am procrastinating by writing a sappy post about how hard life is. It's kind of my thing. I'm sipping my second cup of coffee, complaining about the freezing "fall" weather (it's 61 degrees! It might as well be winter!), grumbling about all the idiots romantics oohing and ahhing about this pumpkin-flavor-filled season, and feeling extra depressed about the fact that my pregnancy/stress-eating weight is still safely attached to my body--meaning I won't be fitting any of my cool weathered clothes any time soon.

Don't get me wrong, there is plenty to be thankful for. It's just, it's the first day of fall. And I'm moving again. So I'm going to pout for a bit.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

"I Don't Know."

There comes a time in life when you just have to admit it. This is who I am. And the puffing up and self-proclaimed confidence are just coping mechanisms that help you deal with the reality you like to pretend isn't real. Every time I make a life decision, people ask me questions. LOTS of questions. Not just about me, but about my husband, and my kids, and how I am going to make sure they are all doing what they need to do. My assumption is they want to feel like I know what I am doing and that I've got everything under control.

But guess what?

I don't. This is my first life. I'm still figuring things out. It just doesn't come as naturally to me as it seems to come to others. I like to use the generalized, "I'm human" response when explaining how lost I really am. But I am beginning to wonder if that word doesn't mean what I think it means. Because when I admit that I am really insecure, and I don't know what to do, and I actually don't have any real idea what life's answers are, people tend to look at me like, "Oh you poor thing..."

Yes, I know, I am normal. No one really knows what they are doing. We are all figuring it out. But there is an unspoken rule that you can only admit you are lost if you then have a plan to make it right. To figure it out. Because I think the fear is, if your answer is, "I don't know." And you have no plan on how to "know" then the sky might fall and bury you in despair and hopelessness. And there is nothing people like less than someone they can't fix.