How wonderful it is when you put yourself out there and ask for help and find you receive an enormous amount more support than anticipated. When you realize that sometimes saying “I can’t do this on my own” is the bravest thing one can do.
How frustrating it is when you find yourself feeling ugly emotions like jealousy and anger, emotions that you try to live without. How hypocritical it is to want to devote your life to helping others, but sometimes just want it to be fucking about you.
How sad it is when the people closest to you disappoint you in ways you didn’t think they were capable of. When walls so carefully pieced together and built up get torn down in the wake of a great love, leaving you willingly, blissfully vulnerable and all the more shocked at the indescribable pain when they burn you.
How disheartening it is when you are so close to reaching a goal only to realize that it is only step one of your dream and you don’t feel like you have the money, resources or strength to move onto step two, three and four.
How funny that an email from a stranger can make you feel a little less alone and a lot more understood.
How easy it is to think you know better, to make judgments and assumptions. Easy to forget the way you behaved when you were in that boat, easy to say for certain how you would act presented with a particular circumstance. How easy it is to forget how much it stings when you are the one who’s judged.
How important it is to remember each person has a unique story and struggle, and that at times decision making is effected by circumstances and their environment, that you’ve never walked a mile in their shoes or been dealt the hand they are playing.
How refreshing it is to spend an evening around a dinner table where political banter includes just as much laughter as it does yelling. Where differences and opinions make the wine and warm dinner that much more flavorful; where regardless of whether or not you think someone’s viewpoints make them an imbecile, you still could not love them more.
How incomparable it is to be in love with a person who is not afraid to call you out on your shit, tell you he doesn’t agree with you and here’s why, a person who challenges you. A person who does not complete you, but rather compliments you. A person who reminds you exactly who you are and what you are capable of when you think you’ve lost your way.
How scary it is to think you are making this person too much of your whole world, that you’re invested so deeply that should it fall apart, your heart would be shattered, your soul damaged. How much does it speak to your relationship that the risk is insignificant to you.
How misunderstood do you feel when the people you love don’t love each other.
How helpless does it make you feel when someone you love is in agony and you can’t find the words to say or thing to do to make it better.
How liberating it is to have things that are only yours, to be able to own your choices regarding money, beliefs, sex. How lucky it is to have a home, a safe haven, with heat and food. How fortunate it is to have a car, how blessed to be able to vote.
How ironic it is that an individual can simultaneously be a hero to one person and considered someone of low moral standing to another.
How confusing it is to feel so many of these things at once.
Topic: Life Goals
Prompt: Something You Hope You Never Have To Do.
I never wanted to work at a job I can’t stand because it pays the bills, but here I am. I’ve never wanted to be a person who judges others, but sometimes I can’t help it. I never wanted to have to feel the indescribable pain of a broken heart, or to cause that type of suffering on another person, but both those things have happened. I never wanted to have to see a psychiatrist, but once upon a time, I had weekly appointments. I never wanted to lie, to myself or anyone else, but at times, I have. I never, ever wanted to put my needs before the needs of someone I love, but I’ve been there. I never wanted to be the girl who overdraws her checking account instead of building her savings, but she comes around from time to time. I never wanted to have the stress that comes along with a shitload of debt, but student loans will do that to you.
I never wanted to do a whole plethora of things. But am I guilty as charged? Absolutely.
There is a difference between what you don’t want to do in life, and what you can’t do. Circumstances can make you feel like you’ve been backed up against a wall, and sometimes you opt for the less than desirable choice. (And sometimes you make an entire slew of poor choices. It’s ok, I promise, you’re only human.) Sometimes you move on effortlessly, sometimes guilt and regret will continue to fuck with you long after the lessons been learned. The way I see it, you almost always, always, always have a choice. The funny (and at times morbidly depressing) thing about growing up, is that you realize that often your selection, preference, habit, decision, WHATEVER, is something you swore to yourself you would never do. Everything from your taste buds, to your idea of a rocking Saturday night, to your life passions are all subject to change. Growing means evolving, and you often find yourself far from where you started and far from where you thought you’d be, sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the greatest.
If I had written about this a year ago, my never-will-I-ever would have been children. I did not want babies, no way no how- pregnancy? Yuck. Maybe it is just me evolving, or it could be because I am tied (both emotionally and geographically) to a man who I know in my heart I will never not love (and who also happens to be fucking adorable with kids) or possibly I’m just a stereotypical broad with one of them built in clocks. Regardless, now I’m starting to see myself in 10 or so years, cause Lord knows I’m not gunna be ready any time remotely soon, wanting a family. I want the swing sets and the siblings bickering, the traditions passed on, goodnight prayers said.
I hope to never have to do lots of things in my life; there are choices I pray to God repeatedly to never have to make. I acknowledge that there are many times where I simply will not have a say in the matter, the only decision I get to make will be how I will react. My pleasures, viewpoints and desires may flourish or digress, I may feel lost if at times the girl I was once is not the woman I became. My never-will-I-EVERS might become items crossed off a life list. And that’s okay, that’s life. My one hope though, the one thing I never want to do is to live a selfish, unexamined life. To not care or acknowledge the repercussions of my actions. If at the end of the day, I haven’t done that, I think I’ll be able to like the woman in the mirror.
I’ve thought a lot about the pros and cons of being an anonymous blogger. I love the idea of having the freedom to say the things I want to say without worrying if it would affect my relationships or job status. However, after anxiety fueled nail-biting careful consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that I want to put my name and face out there. Why? I find it scary and at the same time exciting to have to be held accountable for every word I put on this blog. For everyone to know that these thoughts, ideas, jokes, stories, all came from me. Yes, it might get a tad uncomfortable if my dad reads about my sexing and I can’t exactly talk shit about Bob from accounting (don’t worry Apexicans, there is no Bob from accounting), but overall its important for me. For me, being anonymous would be cowardly, a way to hide behind my thoughts instead of owning them. It would be succumbing to my fear of rejection or getting my feelings hurt when someone disagrees or just straight up hates what I have to say.
A few years ago I registered for an online class at the community college I then attended. The class was Psychology of Religion and I was down right stoked. I love psychology! I love learning about religions! This is going to be great! Yeah, no. The first week we had to respond to an article discussing freedom of religion and freedom and speech. The article had a lot to do about hate and although I don’t remember the specifics, I remember my response (a measly paragraph) centering on my idea that if as long as violence and threats are left out, free speech is free speech and people should be allowed to say how they feel, despite whether or not it’s unpleasant to hear. Classmate Ben did not agree. He laid into me hard about how ignorant I was, how I knew nothing about the law and essentially I should be ashamed. Ben was in a word, cruel. I looked back at what I wrote and could honestly find nothing mean or negative about it. I wasn’t calling people out or preaching from my soapbox. I didn’t understand. I cried. I dropped the class. That’s right kids, I ran far, far away from that discussion board and never looked back. I acted like a pussy. Instead of standing up for myself, defending my words, choosing to fight fairly, I ran.
I am not a person who is comfortable with confrontation. I tend to avoid it at all costs. Because I am often far too emotional, I find it hard to sort my thoughts and explain how I am feeling in an articulate manner without letting my emotions get the best of me. I think that opening my blog not only just to the internet, but also to people I know in real life will be a challenge and source of growth for me.
Maybe no one will read my blog, maybe there will be mixed feelings of hatred and love, maybe people will agree with Ben and think I’m a stupid, ignorant bitch, maybe everyone who reads it won’t give a shit big enough either way to care about what I have to say. But whoever does read it, will know these words are mine. And I think that’s important, regardless how difficult it might get for me sometimes. So, in a way, thank you Ben.