Big, scary things, vulnerability and why I’ve wanted to bear hug pretty much everyone I’ve encountered since TuesdayPosted: March 10, 2011
Warning: I probably won’t even reread this post after I write it, I just need to express the clusterfuck of emotions that is my brain right now. I apologize that this will not be my best writing, I will probably swear a lot and misspell words. Bear with me. Something happened to MC this week. Let’s call it a health scare. I know my readers are a mix of people who know me in real life and those I’ve met through blogging, and although I’m sure MC wouldn’t mind, I just feel like his news isn’t mine to shout out around the internet. Anyways, this health scare, it scared the fucking shit out of me. You know how you are supposed to be the strong one when your partner needs you? Buck up and swallow shit and not cry, be the shoulder for them to lean on? Well, this week I sucked at that. I did my best to take care of him, but I also cried in the kitchen, in the car, on the couch. I cried in front of him. I was vulnerable and messy and scared and I couldn’t hide it. What it comes down to is that I love this person HUGE, BAT SHIT CRAZY amounts and I am my best self with and because of him. And it fucks with your head when something shitty happens to the person who is your rock when you come home from a 14 hour day, the person who pours you four beers and puts up (and not once stops fucking listening) with you when you gush and/or yell about the obnoxiousness that is your current existence. When you are so dramatic it’s laughable. The person that always ALWAYS encourages you and challenges you and calls you out on your shit so you can be better. When I am with him, I am home. The thought of something happening to him doesn’t register with me, doesn’t make sense to me because it just Cannot. Fucking. Happen. Except, in this silly life, it can. And I am just in the midst of the most humbling, heartbreaking gratitude that this time it didn’t. He is ok. He will be ok. Chicago trip might be cancelled, we will find out today but none of it fucking matters. Not vacations or parties or shitty jobs or the green clothes (so cute!) I’ve packed to wear this weekend. Nothing matters except the people. And MC is my person. I think one of the reasons I am crying at every drop of a fucking hat is that I have never had the beauty of my life slap me in the face quite as hard as it did this week. So many terrible, unexplainable things happen to people every day and I am one of the lucky ones who has this unbelievable support system and all these wonderful people who inspire and love me each day. I have never in my life felt more grateful than I do this week. I am blessed, I am blessed, I am blessed.
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.
So, from the outside I look better right? I wear makeup and do my hair, laugh wildly as I sashay across rooms in dresses reserved for the confident girls. Its been years since my period stopped, the depression began and my daily calorie intake was somewhere below 500. Years since I stopped wearing baggy clothes, repeatedly promising myself that if I’m “good” today then tomorrow I can wear a fitted top. Years since my biggest self accomplishment was passing on birthday cake. Years since two-a-day workouts leaving me too exhausted to even make it to the shower.
So when do I start to feel better?
The visits to the therapists are no more, the symptoms are merely haunting memories, but will the plaguing thoughts ever stop? I’ve long ago recovered physically from anorexia, so how long until I recover mentally?
My mind is far too often clouded with heavy layers of insecurity mixed with doubt and fear. I think about other girls. Not even girls, women. Strong, confident women who use their flaws as assets, who broadcast their opinions without abandon, who admit when they are wrong, but refuse to apologize for who they are. Bravery and honesty are found next to their names in the dictionary. I hate that I am not one of those women and I hate that I am not sure if I ever will be.
I have to believe that it will get better; I must convince myself that this is not how I will forever feel. I have to believe it because it’s weighing on my spirit, slowly but surely, little by little. And I can not, I will not, I refuse to be broken, not by this.
“When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure” –Peter Marshall