The Emotional Rollercoaster

I thought we had a good conversation tonight; she's taking her meds again. Well, actually, she said she's got meds that are actually working for her for the first time in several years. The meds always work at first, until she drinks.
That's probably what happened tonight. I'm so glad I didn't have to hear the sound of the ice cubes in her glass. Would I have said the same things? Should I have picked up the phone when she called me back merely a couple of hours later? Am I in for another sleepless night? …

I realize that I am going to sound like a bad person when I say that … I will never be comfortable around her. Because I never know when she's going to snap. That being said, tonight was another classic example. I am the one who's not healing here. I can never truly heal or move beyond the past as long as I have to worry about the kind of relationship we have. Because the problem is, when she's nice, when she tells me that she's different, I want to believe her. I slowly get used to the idea of her being different; I soak it up because a part of me really does believe it's possible.

So I gradually start to think that it's true. I start to invest more of my time and my heart into helping her be that different person she is so desperate to be. But then, she suddenly reverts back to the same old routine and I'm left regretting even talking to her.

She called me to ask my advice on something and I wish she hadn't. I've been her personal counselor for my whole life. She's taught me more things about myself than I've ever probably helped her discover about herself. She's never really treated me like a daughter, more like the person who's around for her own person amusement and to make herself feel better when she messes up. She always makes it mostly about herself.

I gave her my advice—leave it alone—especially with a person with whom she's already got a strained relationship. Leave it alone. Be the bigger person and just walk away. Don't respond to someone's outburst of anger. Just let it go. We talked for over two hours about life, past issues, and depression. Her self-actualized statements almost had me fooled into believing that this medicine was getting her somewhere. She agreed that being the bigger, better person, and ending what really could be considered a lame petty disagreement, was the best option.

We talked and laughed and joked about things that happened in my past and I really got to confront her with some of the behavior I'm glad she's changed-at least on the surface. But underneath, she is still just as fragile and unpredictable as she ever was.

After hanging up the phone with her, I felt pretty good. We had an awesome conversation that lasted over two hours. It was the first time in probably … well over 10 months where I didn't end the conversation frustrated or upset let alone spent so much time on the phone.

I felt good. Now THIS was a person I wanted to believe in. This was the person I wanted to call my Mom. This was the person I was proud of, the one who took a disease and flipped it upside down.

So she called me back just as I was about to slip into bed tonight, hoping to catch up on my sleep. When I heard her voice, I knew something was wrong. Had she been crying? Or was it merely that her words were slurring together? I used to be so good at telling the difference …

She had e-mailed the person and put a whole bunch of unknowing (or uncaring?) accusatory statements all pointing to a past she can't let go of. She didn't walk away, she escalated the problem and I could foresee it blowing up in her face. Where was the person I'd talked to earlier? The one who agreed to just walk away, to leave things alone, to write a letter and then WAIT before she sent it just in case of this very scenario?

"Please tell me you didn't send that …" I could only choke out halfway through. She had. Well, she asked my opinion right? What had happened in two hours? Had the drink gotten to her sensibility?

All of a sudden, our difference in opinion, suddenly became out me. Suddenly, I'm not supportive enough of her, I'm not giving her what she wants. But the thing is, I'm not her peer; I'm not her counselor; I'm not her mother. I'm her daughter. But she wants me to be her friend. She wants more than that. She wants me to support her in any endeavor, even if I disagree. But we are different people, and this is a game I don't want to play.

But it's too late to get off the roller coaster. She starts raising her voice and yelling at me in that all too-familiar tone, reminiscent of nights during her depression-induced rants. Here were are, over ten years later, doing the same dance. Hasn't she changed? Maybe not.

We have to end the conversation with me hanging up. Like a kid throwing a temper tantrum, I have to resort to such … pathetic means of telling her I'm done. She talked about killing herself … again, so I picked up the phone and called her right back. All she needed was a break in the conversation to calm her down a bit. That's when she started using things I told her when I believed her "changed" against me. Persona things I had told her were now suddenly being thrown in my face.

Suddenly, I was on the roller coaster again, and there was only one way to get off. I hung up again. I waited a few minutes, took a few deep breaths, and then called her back. "Don't EVER do that to me again." I tell her in a voice she knows not to mess with. Wow, where's that voice during other times when I need it? "You will not speak to me that way." I insist. Clearly, she has crossed the invisible boundaries I have had to put on our relationship.

The conversation proceeds and I know she feels guilty. That's why she is telling me nice things now like "I'm so sorry." And "You're really wonderful …" and blah blah blah. I've heard it all before. I want to believe she's really sorry, but I've been burnt too many times and now all the "I'm sorry's" don't really affect me anymore.

I get off the phone, following her insistence that I try and give her a hug over the phone (she needs the hug?) and was finally able to let her go. She had calmed down. Good. Maybe she won't kill herself tonight. Finally I can get off this roller coaster ride because I'm starting to feel sick. Sick in my heart extending to my soul.

But I wonder where that person went? Was it my imagination or was she ever there to begin with? In order to reach out to someone, to get close to them, you have to reveal things about yourself, open yourself up and be real, and risk getting hurt. It's the same with a mom who can't control herself. But the truth is, I think a part of me dies every time this happens. I am afraid for the day when it won't hurt me anymore because then I may hang up on her, walk away, and never look back.

Left Behind (A Recurrent Theme)

Back in college, I took some of my favorite classes which included the ever dreaded by so many, English. Even when my mind and my major weren't even close to English, words, brilliant, wonderful, inspiring words were always at the back of my mind, ever beckoning me to write.
One thing we often did in our English classes was to make connections to the real world, make connections to our own lives somehow, and then write about it. The closer, more real the connection we were able to make, the better our paper, the higher the grade. Of course, it was also in a college that valued intelligent thought over scantrons and fill in the bubble sort of answers that often pigeon-hole potential and real intelligence.
I was always taught to make connections in my own life and really, while I could spend months over-analyzing myself, I have unfortunately discovered one common theme in my life.
It seems that no matter what I do I cannot escape from this and I'm not sure if it's something I'm lacking in because of my past or something that I must accept as a part of who I am.
I had an insightful conversation today with someone whom I really respect. In ten minutes of talking, she managed to teach me a new way of looking at an old situation that I had never really considered before. My hope is that by writing down how I am feeling, perhaps I will discover the root of my problem and somehow be able to solve it. Often, talking out problems makes them easier to deal with and identify.
Let me start with a movie. The Last King of Scotland was really about General Idi Amin the leader who proclaimed himself (you guessed it) the "Last King of Scotland" and ended up murdering thousands of Ugandans (Africa) and was—well by all accounts—absolutely crazy.
If you have seen the film, you know what I'm talking about. It basically fictionalizes a story about a young man (played by my favorite actor) who is a doctor from Scotland who ends up as Idi Amin's personal physician. I won't give anything away, if you haven't seen it (go rent it now…it's brilliant). He is in many ways an idealistic impressionable person. I won't exactly talk about his morals. But he's human. Anyways, this isn't what the film was about, but merely want to bring up an undertone that I feel parallels my own life.
The good doctor becomes Amin's physician because, I think he believed in Amin. At first, he gives all appearances of a good man, someone fighting to provide freedom and independence to a struggling people who were desperate for and needed a hero to rescue them from tyranny. But they ended up with someone even worse. Anyways, the doctor helps Amin and even defends him not realizing why people are so upset with a person who appears to be good.
The undercurrent here is clearly about believing in a cause that we think is just, but it's the wrong cause; worse, it's a dangerous cause. It's about believing in something or someone more than yourself, but that faith and confidence being misplaced. It results, inevitably, in disaster.
I don't want to be the person who believes in an unjust cause or place my faith in something that I shouldn't. The only way I know is the one I was taught and everything else, I've learned along the way. Sometimes, I regret not knowing things I feel I should or in being more naive than someone else my age might be. But in truth, I worry that my lack of understanding or my inability to grasp the bigger picture might be holding me back from something great.
Back to the common theme in my life: being left behind. I don't want to sound as if I'm playing the victim role, because I'm not. I'm simply pointing out a common theme I don't understand.
I feel as though everyone I've ever really cared about ends up leaving me behind. I'm not one of those people who's had friends from the 2nd grade and have stayed close with them. My family barely talks to one another-and when we do, our conversations are often filled with hurtful angst and the void left behind with so much left unsaid.
With my relationships, it's much of the same. The person I loved ended up cheating on me with someone else and left. He didn't appreciate what he had (me) until after his new girlfriend was already pregnant and he was forced to "do the right thing." But in the end, that realization on his behalf, his apologies, his "I realize you were wonderful, blah blah blah," was merely a bittersweet victory because it still meant that I ended up alone.
I play by the rules probably because it's the only thing I know how to do. I don't play mind games, I certainly would never get pregnant on purpose, and for all that I am, it does me little good if the person recognizes their mistakes too late.
But that's what's so strange. How is it that I'm constantly left behind, taken for granted, whatever, and then all of a sudden, the dawning of realization happens and by then it's too late to do anything about it?
What is the point in doing things right, in following the rules, if I am going to be left behind no matter what? It doesn't seem like it matter how wonderful I am or how smart or how well I treat the person, because they end up leaving me anyway! In so many ways, it's not fair to hear that they regret leaving me. Because the point is, they did!
The real question is, how do I stop that locomotive before it leaves the station? How can being me be enough? How is it that these girls who treat their guys like crap (oh my god I've seen it happen) seem to get the guy and I get stuck being alone? Do I have to be bitchy because people assume bitchy is normal? Is that what I have to be?
I'm sure you over-analyzers out there will probably like to relate this back to my childhood when my dad left. But really, it's kinda the same thing and yet completely different. I couldn't stop him from leaving either. Though I don't hold it against him really, after fourteen years of marriage to a complete psycho, I would have left too. I watched him pack his truck and drive away, and I didn't run after him. I hoped, I really hoped, that he would change his mind and come home. But in my heart, I knew he wouldn't. He had left before, and there was just something different about this time. There was something different in his tone, something different in the way he hugged me goodbye. I didn't go chasing after his truck as he sped away. I could only stand in the driveway and cry.
But somehow, this feels different. I didn't have control over my childhood or the actions of my parents. Clearly, there was nothing I could have done even as a child of 9, that would have stopped that from happening.
But I want to figure out why leaving seems to be a consistent theme in my life that I can't seem to escape from. Doesn't anybody stay anymore?
People I've dated (years ago) have said, "I wish I would have stayed with you." But the point is, they didn't. All that regret does is sit on my heart and remind me that we broke up (for whatever reason) and was left behind! You can't take it back and you can't change things that happened. So why then, the sudden realization afterward? Are they merely telling me these things but in their heart glad it didn't work out?
I think the most difficult part is watching them end up with someone terrible that makes them miserable and watching as they do nothing about it! I watch as they stay with people who treat them like complete crap and walk all over them or abuse them or treat them in a way I would never even dream of doing. And yet somehow, they stay! So why is it then, that someone like me, who treats them great, was something they were so eager to leave but are okay staying with someone who treats them like crap? I don't get it. I just don't get it.
It would be one thing if it only happened once or twice, but it's constantly happening. Worse, these guys come to me for my "advice" on their situation and it's difficult to relate. How can tell them to leave when they have already made the decision in their heart to stay? What makes them motivated to stay for the crazy psycho, but not motivated to stay for me? Am I not enough? Is being normal boring? Lame? Dull?
I dunno. I can't answer this question and I feel like until I do, I'm afraid to find someone because I fear that the moment I start loving them, they will leave. What's funny about all this is, if I could stop my heart from loving them, they might just stick around. The last one stuck around for 7 years and probably would have married me. But dumb me, I wanted the real thing; I wanted someone to be crazy about me. How selfish.
Anyways, these are just thoughts. In the end of The King of Scotland, the good doctor, idealistic though he was, pays an incredible price for his idealism and his failure to see the bigger picture. I don't want to pay the price and have a life of loneliness all because I am believing in the wrong thing or have faith in something I shouldn't. I don't want to believe that real love is possible or real friendships or real anything if it's really not.
My sense of idealism in the ways of close friendships and relationships is definitely being challenged and real life is confronting me with an alternative reality and I'm not sure what to believe anymore.
What are your thoughts?

Snippet of my novel ...

Hey everyone!Here's the deal: I am still writing. I guess I am uninspired. I feel unloved--not by friends, but missing out on that companionship I've been craving. It has made me lathargic and unwilling (and perhaps unable?) to write for a while.
But the other reason I don't post things on here is because ... this is really raw stuff. The stuff you're about to read below are things that ... I don't really talk about. I don't talk about them because ... I don't know how to explain it but, it's like it happened to me in a different life, in a different time. I feel so different now than I did then. But when I look back, I am forced to remember... and in that rememberance is a different girl, one scared, alone, ashamed, and suffering from a personal nightmare. Sometimes, when I put myself back there, I actually become scared and forget that I got out. I am saved! I am okay. I have to keep reminding myself that.
So please forgive this blog. If you do read further, know only that this may be one of the most telling blogs I've ever written. I am ashamed to admit that these things happened to me, because even writing them now, I still feel helpless. But the truth is, I am writing this all for (hopefully) a bigger purpose--to help someone else out before it is too late. Help them get away, just like I did. Help them to understand the reason is just as important as the action. So here you go.
It's a fun game that my brothers are playing; at least, I think so. They are both taking turns jumping up and down on my bed. Determined not to be left out, I anxiously get up to join them. After all, it is my bed. As they jump, the mattress makes a loud zoinnng sound and they spring up together, in the air. I get up to join them and go to jump and the first few times, they are pushing me, telling me to get down. There's not room enough for three they are telling me. But I'm having too much fun to listen. I make a zoinnng sound of my own as I jump up and down while they are trying to push me off the bed. At some point, they jump up as I am coming down and I realize my mistake. I should have waited or gotten down. But then I am springing forward toward the wooden edge of my headboard and landing and feeling the pain wracking feeling as my head connects with the board and the resounding smack as my face makes contact with the sharpened edge of the wood. It hurts so much, I can't breathe, and all at once I'm screaming and yelling and crying. I don't remember much happening after that until I see them putting a large bag of ice on my face. It hurts too much to talk, and tears are streaming down my unwilling face.
When I realize that my mother is talking to me, I try to focus on what she is saying, try to forget about the pain.
"Shame on you. You should listen to your brothers next time." She rants. "What were you thinking, jumping up and down on your bed? Why did you do that?" She puts on her shoes and someone helps me put on mine.
We drive to the doctor, a little office in town that provides the only medical services for at least fifty miles. There are maybe two doctors, one of which is always on call for cases like this.
He takes a look at my face but I can't tell exactly because by this point, both my eyes are practically swollen shut. He tells me not to worry, my nose isn't broken, but I learn later that he's lying to me to make me feel better. He takes notes on his clipboard and tells my mom that I need to rest. "Lots of rest." He tells me.
She tells him I was being naughty. She seems to use that word a lot when she talks about me. I am too confused to ask why Jake and Justin aren't in as much trouble. But I don't say anything. I'm only five years old, and no one really listens to me anyway. I'm too busy focusing on the pain. So I zone in and out of listening to what the doctor is telling my mom about what to do for my care.
"It's going to leave a nasty scar on the bridge of her nose." The doctor says. I can hear this and put the bag of ice down to feel my nose. At the top, I can feel a large indentation, almost as if my nose has been disconnected and then reattached to my head. It feels so puffy, I almost feel like I'm touching someone else's face instead of mine.
"And how did you say she did this?" He is asking her now, a clear hint of concern in his voice. He's always so nice to me. He's the one who always offers me candy whenever I come here; I like him.
"She was jumping up and down on the bed. I guess at some point, she jumped wrong and hit her head."
"That seems strange." He is saying now. "Because to have this type of injury, it looks as though someone would have had to have pushed her into the bed frame. I'm not convinced that she did this by herself."
I can feel Mom staring at me. My eyes are swollen, but I can feel her gaze because a feeling of dread washes through me in a way that I can't explain let alone understand.
"Tell Mr. Johnston what happened."
"Well …" I begin. Do I tell the truth? The answer comes out in a rush of words and funny sounding sentences. I sound funny because my lip is also swollen.
"Jabe and Jubin were jumbing," I manage, "And I wanna jumb too so I jumb. But then I jumb up and they jumb down and I hit my face."
"That's not what your brothers told me." She sounds angry now. "Is that really what happened sweetie?"
"Yes."
I can hear the doctor scribbling something down on his clipboard and at some point, we are out of the doctor's office and on our way home. My care is simple: lots of rest, ice for the swelling, and Tyelenol for the pain.
Mom doesn't want me to go to school, because they other kids are going to see how I look. But I don't care; I want to go to school. I'd rather be in school learning new things, than anywhere else in the world. If I stay home, I am going to have to cook and clean and do all the chores around the house. The doctor prescribes rest, but that only means a sentence of work if I stay home.

I end up going to school and my teacher is so horrified, she immediately phones both my parents and the other school administrators to take a look at me. Everyone asks me what happened, so I have to repeat the story about a million times. I don't know until later that there is a reason everyone keeps asking me … but I like the attention, and tell them as many times as they want to hear it.
Weeks later, something else happens that only adds to the precarious situation.
I help Annie make dinner, at least, I am supposed to; I try to. I help her by getting out the silverware and placing the napkins and doing whatever else she wants me to do. Mostly, she says I get in her way. But I want to be with her, near her. Finally, dinner is ready and we call Mom. Dad is at work, like always, and won't be home until about two in the morning. I call upstairs to Justin and Jake, but there is no answer. I run upstairs and their room is messy as always, smells of urine, and they are not there.
Annie tells me to call for them outside. I walk out the front door and realize they are just a few yards away, staring at something. I call for them to come in for dinner, but they don't seem to hear me. I walk a little closer, I'm not wearing shoes, and tell them again. But they still don't seem to hear me. When I come even closer, I realize that they are playing a funny game.
Both have matches in their hands. They take turns lighting the match and throwing it, both watching to see where it lands. I am fascinated because I have no idea what they are doing. What's the point? But I just keep staring and watching as the wind carries the little matches into the air. At one point, Justin lights his match and throws it. The wind is gusting just then and the match instantly burns out and falls to the ground.
"Ha ha!" Jake grins. "I'm going to beat that easy."
He lights his match and throws it, and suddenly, it disappears. He is looking around and can't find it. I step a little closer, determined to find it for them. A few seconds go by and it looks as though it's gone. Good. Their game is over.
"Dinner is ready." I tell them. All of a sudden, Jake looks at me as if noticing me for the first time, and screams.
"Stop drop and roll!" he screams. I realize where the match has gone. It didn't disappear after all. The wind has blown the match into my hair and I am on fire. All of a sudden, I feel someone push me to the ground, and then I am rolling, rolling, rolling as they are screaming at me.
All I keep thinking is, why do they have to play these stupid games? Why are they playing with matches? How come they never pay attention to me? All of these thoughts and a million others flash through my head. It feels like forever that I am rolling on the ground. Rolling. I just wanted to be noticed. Rolling. I just want them to love me. Rolling again. At some point, I can't remember what happens next, because I pass out.
I am awake now, but it doesn't make much sense. I am in a big bed, I think at the hospital. My head is bandaged up all over. The doctor is talking again and my ears are practically covered. But the strange thing is, I can't feel any pain.
I know the doctor is saying something important, but I don't understand what it means. "… First, second, and third degree burns to her head…" he is saying. "Needs to be bandaged for at least a month …" "Hair has been practically burned off… We put some cream on the wound …"
I don't know what they are talking about. All I know is that I have to wear these stupid bandages for a month! And my beautiful blonde hair is all gone. Later, I begin to feel the pain. Worse, I am hoping that she'll hug me, just lean over and be kind to me. But she's angry with me again. Justin and Jake have told her that I was playing with matches outside, and she believes them. She always believes them. I don't even know how to light matches, or even where they are in the house, but she doesn't seem to care. She just seems glad to get me out of the hospital and for a few hours, she is a little nice. It's Dad that really takes care of me. He brings me ice cream (a treat I never get to have), gum from the store, and my favorite thing in the whole world, a coloring book and crayons. He even got me a paper doll book so I can punch out clothing and put it on the dolls however I want. I'm so excited.
She asks me why I was playing with matches, demands to know the answer, promises me that she'll hurt me if I don't say. But I don't know what to say because I didn't do it. Doesn't she always tell me to tell the truth? But the truth means that I didn't do anything wrong. The truth means that I get my brothers in trouble? The truth means her not believing me? I choose the truth. I tell her everything about the match game but leave out the part where I was fascinated by the fire. She questions Jake and Justin and Annie tells me that the matches are kept above the wood stove, and there's no way I am tall enough to reach the wood stove. Mom has to believe me. It seems like she does, and so I am spared any punishment, and I am grateful.
Even though my head is in bandages, I beg to go to school. I've already missed a lot of school this year, what with my face, and all the other times Mom keeps me out of school after she's punished me. But I beg and plead and at some point, they give in—probably, I find out later, because they are contacted by the school about my missing it so much. Why does a girl who loves school so much seem to never attend? But no one wants to tell them I've had yet another "accident."
So I go to school, bandages and all. My teacher pulls me out of class and demands to know what my parents have done to me. That's funny because this is the one time, well, the second time, that they haven't done anything at all. It's all the times they don't see … but I don't tell them about that. Something about the way they are talking to me and about my parents makes me want to protect them somehow. They are blaming my family for my condition and it makes me upset. I start to cry and they are bringing me chocolate milk and crackers and comforting me.

Novel

Just wanted to throw some stuff on here today that I'm working on right now. Just a side note about writing something especially difficult... it's hard for me because I have to place myself back there again, in that place where I was constantly afraid, where I was constantly hurt.
For anyone that has ever been through a similar situation, you know what I am talking about. The same feelings of helplessness, anxiety, and that ever present feeling that I cannot breathe begins to return.
Anyways, the writing is slow-going at this point... but I wanted to include a few little bits in here... bits of a life from long ago. Pieces of me.
**NAMES have been changed**
All of my life, I have wanted to be a part of something, bigger than myself. I watch all the popular kids talking about sports at school-who is going to play varsity volleyball this year and who got injured and whose serve can't be beat. There is an excited tone in their voice, and I listen in .. ..

I don't know anything about volleyball-except that you're supposed to hit the ball. When it comes roaring at you, you grasp your hands together, evenly, pushing upward as the ball comes downward at just the right angle, not too much, to send the ball forward-not straight up, and definitely not behind you. A volleyball always wants to move forward. At least, that's what it looks like to me. There's something about the whoosh it makes as it sails through the air and the resounding smack as it makes contact with eager hands who want to send it to the other side of the net.....
.. ..
There's something else about watching volleyball that makes me anxious. It's about more than the excitement rising like a heat wave through the crowd, more than about the popularity it seems to bring those that play. There's something about the way I see all the parents showing up to watch their kids play that makes me sad. The way the parents seem to dote on their children, cheer them on from the stands, give them hugs and tell them how proud they are. It's more than that, and I know it. Volleyball represents yet another thing that I cannot do.....
.. ..
Perhaps that is the reason that I find myself eager to try and play every chance I get. I try and tell myself, as the ball sails over my head, or I miss my shot, that I'm not on the team, I don't have to care if I mess it all up; but all the same, I do.....
.. ..
Perhaps I'm not as good as I'd like to be. Sometimes I get picked last for the team when we play during school hours for PE. But I don't care, at least I'm getting to play. ....
.. ..
It's not just the fact that I'm bad at volleyball, I could probably get better, but the fact that I'm not allowed to play. I'm not allowed to participate in any sports at all. She makes up all kinds of reasons. On the right day it's because she can't afford it, or so she says as she pours herself another drink. On the wrong day, it's because I've done something wrong again. I don't deserve to play sports. I don't deserve to have friends. I don't deserve to live. ....
.. ..
I come home every day from school on time, anticipating her daily call home. If I am not there to answer the phone, she will call again and again, and grow angrier with each unanswered ring. Today, I manage to get home on time to answer her call.....
"What are you doing?""I just got home from school.""Where's Sandy?"....
"I don't know. Walking home with Amanda I think."....
"Why didn't you wait for her."....
"We get out of school at different times."....
"You need to wait for her tomorrow. I don't want her to walk alone."....
"She's walking with Amanda."....
"Well don't forget to do your chores. I have to get back to work right now. I might stop at the bar after work tonight. So make sure you do all the chores before I get home and fix yourself and Shauna some dinner."....
"But there's nothing in the fridge."....
"Isn't there some hamburger?"....
"We used that up a few days ago."....
"Well there's lots of food in the cupboard. You're not helpless. Figure it out." The frustration in her tone is showing. I can't let this get out of control, can't let her think that anything is wrong or we'll pay for it when she gets home. I have homework to do and I'm glad she said she was going to the bar tonight. I need a night of peace."Okay Mom." I choose today not to argue with her.....
.. ..
.. ..
There's nothing in the fridge, but I don't tell her that. Sandy and I ate pickle sandwiches last night, made a game of it. We carefully sliced dill pickles into four long strips, piled the slices on the stale left-over wheat bread we had thawed from the freezer, and carefully and gently placed our pickle slices on the bread, added some ketchup, mustard, mayo, and that was our dinner.....
.. ..

Modern Day Miracles--Are They Possible?

I do not know how long my internet will last (I am "sharing" with a neighbor) but I wanted to take a moment to write down a couple of things that happened in the process of this move that ... I don't know, shocked me. If there was a message to be told, I think it came across loud and clear.
A few roommates ago (one of the "bad ones") I remember we discussed the idea of God. I am constantly struggling with the strength of my faith. I have beliefs that are constantly tested and challenged by the day to day of real life and the painfulness of reality.
I remember my roommate said something thar really stuck with me. He said he didn't believe in God because he'd never witnessed a miracle. It was the tone in his voice that caught my attention. It wasn't the sort of smug self-important tone he usually had, but one of genuine longing and disappointment. I got the distinct feeling that perhaps he might change his mind if ever he had the chance to see a true miracle.But what is a miracle? Is it as the Bible would have you believe, those who can't see suddenly regain their sight? A person who cannot stand or walk can suddenly dance out of their chair, forever healed by the power of God? Or are miracles something that, if you look closely enough, you see every day?
It's difficult for me to think that we are somehow all connected or that everything means something. It's difficult because I don't understand why in all the universe, I have yet to find someone who is willing to go the distance with me, someone who wants real love and a lifetime to explore it in. It's difficult for me to imagine that all those times I was beaten as a child, and lay awake in fear and silent resentment, that there was a bigger purpose for it all, a deeper meaning that only God himself understands or plans for us.
What if we do witness miracles every day but don't notice them when they happen? What if we were cognicent, even for just a moment, of the bigger picture?
I say all this not to confuse the issue or pontificate on the idea of God's bigger plan or even to be so bold as to say that I myself understand the purposes we serve here on this planet. But I do know, that for some reason, I have been allowed to see a few things lately that gladden my soul.
After leasing my apartment, I had to get renter's insurance-yet another hidden cost to renting I'd forgotten all about. I'd never gotten insurance before and didn't know the first thing about it. I said a few quick prayers and made my way to the local AAA office to inquire about it.
It wasn't a busy day and I went in the middle of the week. I sat on a chair and waited, almost as if one would wait for an interview, until I was greeted by the agent who was planning to sell me the insurance.
I was expecting the usual sales pitch and customary attempt to sell me more than I needed. I hoped that I could wade through the BS and walk away with the cheapest plan possible. But in the end, I got more than I bargained for ...
Long story short, at some point, as is usual, he had to ask me what I did for a living. We started talking about my job and I hadn't even gotten to the part where I was going to tell him that I worked with juveniles. But we fell into this sort of easy conversation that I felt was necessary on a level I didn't understand. My feeling of this was confirmed a few minutes later when, after a few questions from me, he told me that he and his wife had considered becoming foster parents but weren't sure they should do it. Having come from a similar background, I found the voice inside of me rise up and tell him that not every foster care comes out of the system broken. Some of us make something of ourselves. I encouraged him that it was a good thing to do ... and at the end of our conversation, he only sold me the insurance I needed, and told me the complete truth about what I needed and what I didn't. In exchange, I think I managed to encourage him that being a foster parent was a rewarding experience and it is my belief that he and his wife would make wonderful surrogate parents to those unfortunate enough to find themselves in less than ideal houses where abuse and mental illness can sometimes capsize a family.
As I left the building, I was overcome with a sense of pride and joy. For the first time in a really long time, I felt as though I had done a truly good deed. It was as if I was supposed to be there that day to answer his questions and alieve his fears ...
Could that not be called a miracle? The child he takes in and saves today is the person who saves your life tomorrow. The heart that's rescued at its most vulnerable moment is the soul that breathes love into relationships in the future.
But that is not the only miracle that I have may had inadvertently been a part of.
It also has to do with leasing this apartment itself and the guy who showed it to me. He showed me the apartment and, I don't know how to explain this but, there was a sort of energy between us (not a romantic one---I later found out he had a girlfriend anyway) but a sort of energy that tells me that something else is yet to come. It's as if we have known each other before, without a formal introduction. I found myself asking him questions I would never have the couarage to ask someone, let alone someone I just barely met-questions about his life and how he came to be living in California. I should mention that I detected his slight accent and somehow we just fell into easy conversation.
Anyways, after I leased my place, part of the requirements was for me to tell him what I did for a living. I didn't actually write it down, but rather faxed over my pay stubs as was required.
When I came in to see him, to sign the paperwork, there was a knowing gleam in his eye. "I really want to talk to you." he said to me. Well, it turns out that he has wanted to get a job like mine for years. He has wanted to make a diffierence in people's lives and has never had anyone tell him how to do it or encourage him to go for it. He got stuck in the leasing business because he feels he's a good salesman, but something else has been tugging at his heart ...
We are supposed to go to coffee on Friday and I find myself so excited. Rarely do you get the opportunity to tell someone (knock on wood) what a great job you have and how much it means to you to be a part of something bigger than yourself.
Even if we don't end up meeting, it's as if a giant seed was planted there in his heart-a seed that has encouraged him to grow and perhaps seek out that job where he is helping people. Perhaps it will be where I work, and perhaps it will be somewhere else. But it was like watching the sun as it lights up the darkness. It was like watching that moment when the genius discovers some universal secret they have forever been trying to grasp.
Anyways, I am not sure if these things I have witnessed count as miracles. Perhaps they are nothing more than my being in the right place at the right time. But seeds have been sown and thoughts taking root within open hearts and that is something that will have a positive impact on another human being for years to come.
It was almost as if I was supposed to move so that I could run into these people so I could help plant these seeds so that they could go on to fulfill whatever plan God has for them. Wow. I don't know if it's even as grandiose as that, or even if it's as meaningful as I seem to make it. I don't know if that was part of God's master plan or I don't even know ...
All I know is that, if you asked me, I would tell you that miracles are possible. We just have to open our hearts to their endless posibilities and wait for that magical moment when they appear and change not just someone else's life, but our own lives as well.
I don't know what the master plan is and I do admit I continue to struggle with faith and loneliness and a million other things ... but these miracles, even in their smallest measure, convince me that there has to be something out there in the cosmos even if we don't always see it for ourselves.
Perhaps we don't just walk the path to witness a miracle, perhaps in many ways, we are the miracle.

Real Friends

I moved again this weekend. You'd think that it would be like a mantra I'd get tired of chanting. It's true, it feels like I move almost every other year. Perhaps this time, things will be different. Perhaps in striking out on my own, making my own path, I will be delighted to discover my own sense of freedom, revel in my own realizations of independence and the ability to stay in one place for as long as I like-and as long as I can afford the rent.
Truly, I learned who my real friends were. Some of my friends traveled well over an hour to make it to my house. They didn't complain about high gas prices or even the distance, but came with a smile and willing hands to help me load up the moving truck.
I'll refer to everyone by the first letter of their name-to protect their identity. R and his son Z showed up... Z had been at grad night all night long and hadn't gotten even an hour of sleep. R had stayed up with his sick wife (cancer) and had very little sleep of his own ... A had gone on an all-night fishing trip that ended at 4 in the morning, and here she was, just a few short hours later, grinning as she loaded a coffee table and two end-tables into her car. S had stayed up talking to a friend in need until 3:00 a.m.... these are just a few of the stories I heard that day. Despite the fact that they were exhausted, they came anyway.
I don't blame those who flaked out or came up with some lame excuse or another (it's too far or it takes too much time or blah blah blah) but I found myself disappointed for several reasons. The people who upset me the most were the ones who promised to be there, and then came up with some excuse as to why they couldn't make it--at the last minute of course. What happened to the integrity (remind me to write a future blog about this) of doing what you say? The worst quality to have, in my opinion, is flakiness. Because when you tell someone you'll do something, you're only as good as your word.
I also know to invest less energy and time into their friendship in the future. After all, a wise person once told me that the true test of a friendship is the test of need. When you need something, who is there to help you out? Who makes excuses and runs away?
I realized that when a friend is in need, no distance is too great, no task too large, no need too great.
These people are my heroes. They worked their butts off in 100+ degree weather, staying until every last box and piece of furniture was safely in my house. That's after loading it up in the heat, and treking up and down two flights of stairs just to get it to me. Now that, I feel, is true heroism.
Now that the dust has settled (and the unpacking begins) I am looking over that day with a mix of relief and astoundment at the generosity of these people. I hope that the time arises when I can help them out the way they have helped me.
To my friends, my real friends, I thank you. :)

A Puzzle

So I can't think of a title to this blog. But have you ever had one of those days where you make all kinds of mistakes and you look back over your day and were like, "Oh my goodness, did I actually do that?"
This was one of those embarassing days where I want to run and hide in my cave and not come out for a really long time.
It was a friend's birthday last week, and today was his birthday party. I was a little nervous going to this since I probably would be one of the only single people there and always have a difficult time talking to strangers. It used to be so simple when I was with S or J. S would go with me and mope about until we left (he hated parties and groups of people) and J would make up some reason not to go. So it was always easier for me to make excuses for coming by myself. "S wasn't feeling well." or "J couldn't make it." Both of those sound better than showing up alone especially when children of all ages are clinging to their parents and they are all exchanging funny tidbits about their children while I can only smile and nod at what they are saying.
My friend Denise ended up rescuing me, and doing a fantastic job of it. Her quick wit and easy-going personality is always a welcome addition to what might have otherwise been a disaster for me going alone. Of course we were met with the usual "couple" jokes, but in the end, it proved better than me showing up by myself.
But here's where I got stupid. First of all, I'd been packing all morning, then ran to Ikea (a cool place to get home decorating ideas) and my wardrobe is lacking at the moment because practically all of my clothes are packed tightly into boxes stacked in the living room.
Anyways, I didn't really have anything decent to wear, didn't really have a chance to put makeup on or look cute, and my hair--well let's just say that it looked like I walked through a wind tunnel. That's what happens to curly hair when you try to straighten it without an actual straightener. Trust me on this.
So I'm sitting across the table from a co-worker whom I actually respect and think is cool, and he brought his girlfriend. She seemed as shy as he was and didn't even seem to acknowledge my existence. Of course she didn't introduce herself so I guess I shouldn't feel too terribly bad (but I do) because I didn't even say a word to her ...
Okay, so a little history here ... normally speaking, this guy and I work together. He's a great, intelligent, nice guy. But the thing is, it seems as though we can barely come up with two words to say to one another and I can't figure out why! When we're in a group, it doesn't seem to be a problem. But when we're alone, it's like there's this strange awkwardness and I am not sure what it is. We have a ton of things in common, so you'd think that it would be easy to communicate... as easy as talking about the things we're both interested in technology, computers, whatever. But it wasn't until today that I realized what element was completely missing from our little ... "friendship."
So we're sitting there, and he starts talking to me about "work" stuff... and is asking me questions and for the first time ... EVER, I didn't want to answer him. Actually, I didn't want to talk about work at all. Work was the last thing I wanted to think about let alone talk about. I wanted to talk to him about life, ask him questions about what his plans were for Father's day, whatever--anything--but all I could do was choke out some lame reply back to him and then we sat there in silence. When I leave work, I try to literally leave it at work. So when I'm home, or when I'm in a social situation, it's strange to then talk about work again. Yeah, it's fun to relive stuff and reminisce on funny stories, but at that exact moment, I drew a complete blank. I'm sure I sounded like a dumbass. Why didn't I introduce myself to his girlfriend and ask her questions about her?
Anyways, so I've spent weeks (months actually) trying to be friendly to this person because I don't want to feel awkward when we meet one another. I don't know why it feels that way. I get the feeling that I'm the last person he wants to talk to and yet ... we have so much in common it doesn't make sense. I put myself on a one person mission to befriend him and convince him that I wasn't too scary to talk to ... I was hoping that strangeness that seems to prevent us from having a normal comfortable conversation would just melt away and the barrier would be broken.
But I figured out today that ... despite all of this time I have been trying to befriend him, it hasn't worked. He's kept me at a clear distance and perhaps I should chalk it up to the fact that maybe he just doesn't like me. But what does it hurt to be personable?
That's when I figured it out! I share personal details with him (I'm moving, I'm doing this, I feel that--blah blah blah) in the hopes that he would open up and give me SOMETHING I could talk to him about. Something I could relate to and could ask him about. There's only so much work stuff you can talk about and beyond that, it comes down to what makes up who you are. At least his partner will tell me things about his family, his friends, projects he's doing, etc. and it gives me something to ask him about later, "How are you projects going?" "How's baseball?" "How are the kids?"
But if I don't know anything personal about the other person, I am only able to have a superficial and therefore superficial relationship with that person. So in the end, it's no wonder that we stare at each other when we're alone. He won't let me in, for whatever reason. What's strange is, I have worked with him for ... almost a year now and he knows plenty of things about me. I would hope that in knowing things about me, he would understand me better, and therefore wouldn't be hesitant to talk to me or ask me things. But in the end, there's this strangeness there and it still isn't going away ...
I guess this is one of those situations where I'm not going to win. I'm going to walk away from this one and throw in the towel and admit defeat. I feel like I really tried; then again, I wish I wasn't so shy in large groups. Perhaps I could have gotten to know his girlfriend a little bit and so then I could have at least asked him about her and how she's doing.
So anyways, the whole situation is a puzzle to me. I'm not sure I should blame myself and my lack of social etiquette today or just realize that it's clear he doesn't want anything to do with me and leave it alone ...
But that's the funny thing too-we seem to communicate through e-mail just fine. But I still never learn anything new about him. It's like he just answers my questions and that's it. Nothing personal, nothing real. Nothing real. Interesting... Anyways, so it's all a mystery.
I feel bad because I am finding myself starting to purposely avoid him or actually slightly relieved when he doesn't come along to certain events. But at the same time, I am bummed when he's not there. Since we do have so much in common, there's so much stuff I want to talk to him about. But I'm just not sure how to bring it up, if that makes any sense.
Well, I guess it doesn't matter. It's just strange and I've never encountered a situation like this before. What do you think? Am I doing something wrong?

Thoughts

Packing things when it's time to move always presents several challenges. For those of you blessed to have only moved a couple of times, you're lucky. For me, I have always felt as though I have always been at the mercy of the winds-always waiting for another to tell me where and when to go.
Anyways, as I was packing up my things, I was forced to go through all the old things that I stowed away-some needlessly, and some with good reason. Among other things, I found a letter I had written to J. It was a letter I never had the courage to give him, words that have been left unspoken for years, merely thoughts on paper. I should have just put it back in the box I got it and turned away. Or perhaps I shouldn't keep these things that haunt me and should throw them away altogether, but something prevents me from doing so.
When the other boxes were packed, I picked up those pages I had set aside and began to read it. It was a beautiful letter, and memories of our time together flooded back into my heart, memories I have long since wanted to forget.
It's a funny thing-I always tell people not to live in the past; it's not healthy for you. If you're always thinking about the past, you'll never live in the present, never look forward to the future. Yet there's something about everything that happened that I just can't seem to let go.

I think I know what it is, and I am hoping that talking about it will allow me to make sense of it all, to gather the courage to move forward and pray that true love is again possible.

Although I've spoken about this before, I want to give you a little picture of something. Have you ever truly loved someone? Truly? It's a feeling that poems and sonnets and cheesy songs and the romantic movie empire have all attempted to capture. Love is like the adrenaline rush after finishing first in a race or climbing the tallest mountain in the world. Actually, it makes you feel as though you could do anything-even climb that impossible mountain. You'd do it too; you'd brave every single step even if it meant loss of life and limb just to hold that person in your arms one more time or be held, or feel the gentle brush of their lips as they meet yours. That's love.

I cannot even do it justice, or try to describe what so many who have come before me have done ever so gracefully. All I can say is that, for a brief moment in time, it truly was like a dream. It was like everything I always imagined love can be. Nothing before and nothing since has even managed to touch it even for a moment.

As I go out on dates these days, and listen to the guys drone on and on about themselves, I want to laugh because all I can think about is the guy who asked me how I felt, what I liked, who I was.

I can still remember the soft touch of his hand as he touched my shoulder to ask me something. When I touch someone else on the shoulder, with not even so half a similar feeling or meaning, the guy shrinks away, or leans in closer because he thinks it means I want to sleep with him. It has no longer become a gesture of acceptance and notice.

People confuse my open, genuine nature with desperation. But I wouldn't settle for them; they wouldn't even come close to the love I've known especially as they criticize me or cut me off mid-sentence to talk about themselves some more.

Reading that letter today, I was reminded of the person he was, and
the person I was when I was with him. When things were good, they were really good. People who know him don't understand, but always remarked on our closeness, even after we were no longer together.
There was just something there and always will be.

I sit and ponder these things these days because I am only left with those lingering feelings of the past inside my heart. I am torn between letting those feelings go and keeping them safe in my heart, where no one will ever be able to touch them.

The only problem is, I can't seem to find anyone who touches my heart in the same place or even come close. I don't want to have to compare; I want the guy to blow my idea of something great out of the water, but it never happens. I guess in writing this, every guy who likes me and has access to this blog may be discouraged (and I realize this) … but the truth is, we should all want a love that is going to last. We should all want that bond that holds us together. We should all strive to love someone the way J and I did, even if it was just for a moment.

When I hear of people in real life (every day!) who are with people they don't love, or people they've settled for, or people they're unhappy with, I get really upset. I get upset because I know what real love is and I know that every person who's with the wrong person, is just making it more difficult for someone like me to find the right person.

Maybe my person is in a dead-end relationship and won't admit it to themselves. Perhaps they don't have the courage to get out of it or perhaps they won't ever have the courage to give me a try. Perhaps my person lives in another country or perhaps is married to the wrong person, constantly convincing themselves to give it "another try." Perhaps he has just been burned one too many times and is unwilling to take a chance … but perhaps when the time is right, he'll give me a chance to change his world forever.

I also want to admit something I've never told anyone before. People often ask me what initially attracted me to J. He's got an ego the size of NYC and though he is universally handsome, he continues to hold himself as his 1 priority. Well, the truth is, we had so much in common … he would read what I was thinking without me having to say anything. It's such a rare thing when you are truly understood. It was almost as if he'd finish my sentences for me because he knew what I was going to say. Even more importantly, he'd remember little things that I'd say months later. Even S, whom I lived with, didn't seem to remember the things I said or even what was important to me. But somehow, J did.

The thing I was going to admit is that … I remember him talking about his last girlfriend whom I actually knew pretty well. She was high maintenance and came from money, if you know what I mean. Our worlds couldn't have been more different. When he talked about their relationship, or talked about the things he wanted out of life, he had the saddest look of wistful longing on his face. Just as he'd understood me, I understood him. I understood that look. I could see the sadness in his eyes, even when he didn't say anything; he didn't need to. I always thought, in the back of my mind, that I wished for just a moment he would notice me (this was before we got together of course) because I wished that I could show him what he was missing out on in a relationship.

Of course, I ended up getting to do that, since we later got together. I was convinced that I could change J's life … and I think I did. Just as he changed mine…

Honestly, I'm glad that J and I didn't work out. I didn't really know who he was before I fell in love with him. Of course I probably wouldn't have fallen in love with him had I known. But it was a great experience because I learned so much from him. I feel as though we had our moment, and we taught each other the things we needed to. I taught him how to love another person, and opened the way for his new life now. He taught me how to appreciate myself and what to look for in another person, and to wait, even if it takes a lifetime, to find it again.

Ultimately, I don't know where my person is. I want to believe that he's out there, and his heart will be as loving as a deep and endless ocean. He'll wrap his arms around me, and on those moments when I am unsure what direction to go next or what decision to make, he'll pull me closer and tell me, "everything is going to be all right."

An Interesting Thought

Hello everyone! I've been meaning to update you for a while now about Hawaii, and I will get to that, but I just had this interesting thought and ... for some reason, I want to bring it up.
Remember when you were a kid and before you knew how the world really worked, and before your parents became real people (you know, when you suddenly see them as flawed souls), you probably thought that certain things were important.
When you're a kid, you don't care how much work your father does-but you notice every minute that he is late to your baseball game. You don't care that there are bills to be paid and that work has kept your mom away from home a little later, all you are hoping for is another hour of her time--waiting for the next time she will play with you.
These moments, precious though they are, are the moments that bring families together. We like to convince ourselves that our lives are balanced while we work three jobs to pay the bills (and keep up with the Jones's) and yet it is often our children who suffer.
But what if, for just a moment, we as a society could start placing emphasis on those things we found important as children? Family together time ... moments spent with one another. What if we started working less and giving more? How might this world be different?Anyways, just a thought. I still remember what it felt like to be a child. I still remember the joy and excitement I felt when my mother took time out of her day to play with me or my father would teach me things. As I've grown, that joy and excitement has dwindled as I've become more aware of the real world. But sometimes, it is good to take a step back and remember those things that are truly important.

No Life is Insignificant

As I was driving today, making my way up the hill toward the place I call home, I nodded toward a tree on my right, as I always do as a way to pay my respects. It is the only tree on the drive whose trunk has been colored a shade of red. On the ground, surrounding the trunk, I have seen bouquet after bouquet of fresh flowers. Sometimes, there is a ribbon placed around the tree, a reminder that the person whose life was ended at that particular spot, is still remembered.
I can still remember when my friend Crystal called me one day and told me in an anxious tone, that there was a stand-off at the bottom of the hill. There were police cars everywhere and they were trying to convince a man who had apparently barricaded himself in his car, to give up his weapon. Apparently, at some point, for whatever reason known only to him, the man decided to take his own life.
I didn't know him, know anything about him, know how old he was, or know who he left behind. All I noticed is the amount of cards, gifts, and flowers that were left when he passed from this world to the next. What saddened me was that this man, this stranger to me, had probably felt that way about everyone else. He felt he had no way out, no place to go, no reason to live. But if only he had seen all of the love and all of the people who loved him, whom he left behind.
What strikes me about that particular place is that, when you look out at that particular spot, you can see so much beauty. If you turn and look down the hill, you can't help but see the most amazing view of Saddleback Valley. It was as if he could not see the beauty, because he was trapped in his own prison of pain. If only he could see how much he must have meant to someone here that was perhaps waiting for him to return home, waiting for the man who would never arrive.
So I remind myself, each time I pass that spot, that each person is significant. Each life matters. Each person important in some way. Every life is important; he was important, even if he couldn't see it.
I don't know this person, or what he looked like, or what kind of life he led, but somehow, in some small measure, he has changed my life, and changed the way I look at things. Sometimes it's easy to become bitter and angry and tell yourself that things aren't that great. But one breath of life is always better (in my opinion) than death. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, the sound of the rain as it falls on the rooftops, the feel of warm clothes upon my skin, the feel of someone's arms around you, giving you a real hug ... There are so many little things to be thankful for, and so many people who would miss you if you were gone.
Every person touches someone else's life in some way, whether or not we realize it. Each thing we do has an impact on another living thing. Don't for even a moment, underestimate yourself or the ultimate power you have in this life. Enjoy every single minute of it. Enjoy your time with other people, for one day they will be gone. Enjoy your life, because it is never insignificant.

Wanted: A Vacation

So I'm going on vacation. I haven't been away or taken a break in a really long time. But lately, I've been frustrated for reasons that I've already told many of you. I've included an abridged version here.The truth is, I'm disappointed in myself for so many reasons and a lot of it has to do with my own sort of craziness. I don't suffer from any addictions; I have a good job; I try to do right by everyone all the time; I am hard-working, dedicated, try to be a good friend, etc. You could pretty much say I'm normal in many ways. But I just can't help but wonder why it is that after time and time again, I continue to fall into similar patters of thinking and behavior and frustration inevitably sets in.I am an over-achiever by nature; I admit it. When I set my mind on something, I just keep pushing forward no matter how difficult it becomes. But when I can't achieve that one thing, I forget all of my other successes and seem to focus on that one thing I did wrong or that thing I wish I could have done …It's a strange place to be because I am naturally an optimist in just about every aspect of my life. But sometimes I play tug-o-war with myself and end up confused and frustrated. I can't seem to figure out why I continue to find myself interested in people who have no interest in me. It would be one thing if I could understand what the problem is or why their lack of interest was clear, but it's not. That's the crazy thing; I can't seem to figure it out. I feel like the kid on the playground that nobody will play with, but no one will tell me why. One part of me wants to ask, "what is it?" I mean, am I too fat, too short, too tall, too ugly (I hope it's not the ugly thing-I can't do much about that). I want to know what it is … so maybe I could change it, or maybe, just maybe, in knowing the answer, I'd come up with a darned good reason why they would not be a good fit for me. The other part of me, the one that grew up sensibly and who knows that there's more to life than superficiality wants to SCREAM out loud that being a good person makes up for all the other stuff (being too fat, tall, ugly, etc.) and that a real man would not be daunted by those things because in 20 years, who gives a damn what we look like.But then I remember that I live in California and I can't believe what choices I made to bring me here only to help me find success in one manner (my job) but leaving me completely devastated in another. There are so many places out there where someone like me would have no problems attracting good people; when I return home, I always seem surrounded by people of value, culture, kindness, etc. I'm reluctant to date them because I know that our time together will be short. But for as long as I've lived in California, I've only ever found a handful of people like me … or who I think are pretty great, and they have no interest in me. After all, why would they? They get to see beautiful bodies, perfect makeup, and botox every day … what makes me special? Well okay, so I think I'm pretty special; I don't think I have an ego. But honestly, I can bring a lot to the table in any relationship. I think I'd be darn good at it—not because I have an ego about it—but because I know that real relationships take work and I am willing to work at it and have fun and enjoy one another and really live. I have done it in all my relationships and I feel that's why they never want to let me go … but in the end, I needed to be happy and so I left. There's only so much trying before you realize that they are the Grand Canyon and you will never be able to fill them up …So where does that leave me? Having a great job, a wonderful sense of humor, fantastic friends, only to be miserable and lonely going home to a cold, empty house? Maybe I'm too sensitive, maybe I'm a lot of things. But I just don't understand why all these crazy, selfish chicks end up getting someone while I am supposed to be happy with the single life.The single life gets old. Not wanting to be single doesn't make me desperate; that much is clear. If I were desperate, I could (and would) have gotten together with someone a lonnng time ago (or several times-depending on the way you look at it) but I don't … I don't because I have standards and because I am still holding on to some stupid idea that the right person is out there waiting for me.But at some point, I'm going to have to settle for whomever comes along and I wonder if I'll ever be truly happy? I think I'd rather be alone, not have to answer to anyone, not have to work at something I know in my heart is never going to work out … but on the other hand, I don't know.I just don't understand what is missing about me. I think that if I moved to another state, I might have the opportunity to find someone wonderful, but I'll be out of a job and probably a place to live. So do I sacrifice all of this stuff I've worked so hard for just at the opportunity to find someone wonderful to have in my life?The truth of the matter is, I don't just want someone else to make my life complete. That's not what it's about. It's about being bored … it's about the fact that I am always thinking about things… okay, well here's the deal. You know I can say that I'm not Miss Universe in looks (I'm okay) and I can say that I don't have the perfect body. But one thing I do have, for better or worse, is intelligence. I think about things all the time and if I wasn't asleep, I'd probably never get my mind to shut-up. It sucks to be intelligent I think because I don't like talking about superficial things as much as I like breaking the mind-barrier and talking about things that make us better people and make us learn more about things. For example, I want to know how things work and what people feel about the universe and God and everything. I want to know what makes a car run on gas and just how a magnifying glass is made. And how is it that hummingbirds can fly backwards? These are the things that I want and need to know and honestly, ordinary conversation (i.e. what did you do this week? What's the weather like? Etc.) will be okay for a while, but all it does it leave me wanting for more substantial conversations or waiting for someone who touches, even for a moment, on something real and thoughtful.People that think about these things intrigue me because I can't help but want to pick their brains. Anyone with intelligence is worth listening to because they probably have thought about things I haven't even begun to conceptualize and for someone who's intelligent, it helps me be a better person.That's right, I believe that it helps me be a better person when I surround myself with intelligent people. I don't learn anything by talking about the weather or about what shoes are on sale at Nordstrom. I don't grow; I am just like debris floating in the water, any movement merely at the mercy of the waves. I can't settle for that. I can't settle for a life where someone doesn't challenge me. I can't settle for a relationship where I'm always having to lift up or encourage the other person. Because I need encouragement too. I need to be challenged.But I am more intelligent than a lot of people and (I won't lie about this) I am bored to tears when we talk about things or go on a date. Where's the real stuff? The good stuff? Where is the person who wants similar things?Every time I find that person, or someone like that, I cling to them because I think they're amazing (you should never let a good mind go to waste) and because I need it. I need it in a way I can't even begin to understand or describe. It's like my ice cream, if that makes any sense.J (the guy I dated for two years) was like that … we'd sit and have the most amazing philosophical debates. It was like I could be myself around him, with conversations that were silly and stupid at times, or deep and meaningful, He loved Disneyland on one hand (like I do) but loved to drink coffee, listen to a local band, and talk about the universe and where it was going. He'd turn the lights low and he'd take out his favorite books and he'd read to me, and then we'd talk about it afterward. I'd share snippets of my favorite writing I'd done and he'd gently critique me. That was more fulfilling than anything I've ever known in my entire life. I can't imagine what he's going through right now with his relationship where the girl is as shallow as a 3 foot swimming pool. It's not her fault; it's just that she can't figure out why every time we get together, we have so much stuff to talk about. She always says we "go off in our own world" and leave her out of it. We don't mean to, but we're just so much alike and intelligent, that we thrive on that sort of thing. She is left behind because, bless her poor little thing, she's just not as intelligent and can't keep up.I never wanted to admit that I was more intelligent than anyone else. I didn't want to think of myself as different or better or worse or whatever. But the reality is, I am. I can't run from it or hide from it, or change it with botox. All I can do is hope that somewhere in this stupid sea of superficiality there emerges a person who wants the same things as me or at least can save me from my own mental prison of boredom.Everyone always tells me that I'm a pretty good person, but it's stopped being good enough. It's not good enough that I'm wonderful, loyal, considerate, kind, blah blah blah … it only seems to matter what I look like—and quite frankly, I could care less about that. Because I want people to remember me for the good things I did and the kind of person I was. I don't give a damn if they remember me as pretty. What I wouldn't give to make a real difference in the world or change something or change someone's life for the better …Anyways, with regards to all this, I continue to be interested in people who aren't interested back. You can't force people to be interested; you can't force people to like you or be attracted to you, and for that, in some ways, I'm glad. But on the other hand, it makes me sad too because I am painfully aware of how many guys pass me up because I don't "look like a model" or because I'm just a little whiter than everyone else. If that's even what it is. Perhaps I'm passed up because I am not interested in the mundane, try not to get caught up in drama of it all ...So I feel torn between two worlds, if that makes sense—the intelligent one and the superficial one. I am disappointed in myself because … well for obvious reasons. I can't change who I am and worse, I don't think I'd want to be dumber even if I tell myself I might be happier that way.Another reason I'm disappointed in myself is because I tell myself that everything's going to be all right. I am going to be all right. I tell myself I'm going to lose 40 pounds so that even Stupid Superficial Guy will give me a chance… but then I don't. I consciously tell myself I will go to the gym every day, but then, inevitably, something comes up. Something always seems to come up.Most importantly, I'm disappointed in myself for even caring. I should just keep on keepin' on (as someone once told me) but every so often, little reminders come up and poke me sharply. Perhaps it was my boss the other day who casually asked me when I was going to "get started on finding a man" in front of all my co-workers, or my father who made it clear he didn't want me to be a "spinster." If only he knew …But being non-desperate (and having a life!) also sometimes means I don't get to go out and look for someone. It means I go to work and come home and do my stuff and volunteer where I can and hope that someone will just magically bump into me and realize hey, she's pretty great … but they don't. And yet another year goes by … People say I'm too picky, but if it were only superficial things I was looking for, finding someone would be all too easy. If only I could pretend …So that's the deal. I'm upheld by my silly stupid morals that say "don't sleep around" and for "be a good person" and for "tutor kids" and "make a difference" and all that other nice-people-bullshit that I somehow actually believed. But real life isn't a Disney move and I guess the more time goes by, the more I realize that, and the more disappointed I become.On days when I'm not "full of sunshine" everyone asks me what's wrong. As if I'm not allowed to have a bad day? Or worse, I feel like I have to always be on my "best behavior" because I'm single. Also, I feel I could never settle for just anyone because I could never put up with someone in my life who wasn't supportive and kind … because I know myself and I know I could never do it.Anyways … I'm disappointed for even caring about it, for even wanting more than (for whatever reason I'm not getting). I want to forget about it, push it to the back of my mind and just live my life. But I can't …I can't because every time I see someone my age with a little kid, I think to myself, "I want one of those." But stupid society has made it a bad thing to actually WANT children. Oh sure, people complain and bitch about their children but always were the "best thing that's ever happened to them" but they rarely say they "planned" the birth. That's the thing, there's nothing wrong with wanting kids. But yet it's just another thing I can't have because I would never do it the wrong way (ie get pregnant out of being in a loving committed relationship) and only want a baby's daddy who wants to be there! So that's just another thing I'm not getting to have … and it sucks because I've always wanted to be a good mommy.Instead, I tutor kids and volunteer and even work with kids, and the truth is, it's still not enough. I use all the volunteer-work to fulfill the spot in my heart … but the hole is still there, ever gnawing at me and tugging me in places I don't want to admit I have.So that's the deal. I'm disappointed in myself for wanting these things, but what can I do? I'm only human. I'm not desperate, I just need more than something ordinary.
Anyways, I'm giving myself the opportunity to go to Hawaii and let it all go. Just let the ocean breeze carry my thoughts away on the wind and listen as the sounds of the ocean soothe my heart.
I think things will be okay and perhaps it will take me going away to Hawaii to remember that being picky is not a bad thing. Going to Hawaii will give me a mental chance to start over. Or perhaps what it will take to have a real chance to start over is having the courage and strength to move on and move away ...

The Promise

This mini story came to me one day a few weeks ago and has been swimming around my head. I'm not sure how it's going to end or what's going to happen. I don't know this little boy (now all grown up) but I think I'd like to ...
It started out with a watch. And a promise. It was just a simple watch, something his dad had probably picked up at Target or some other similar store. But to him, because it was a gift from his father, it meant everything. It had a simple black rubber strap, and there was nothing intricate or detailed about the large face and small hands. It was simple and undorned and yet, it was special.
Whenever he thought of his father, he felt a great loss. His father was a quiet man who often kept his thoughts to himself. He was a difficult person to know and yet he had a quiet strength and warm humor about him. As the years passed, memories of what he looked like and things they talked about began to fade, until he became only a whisper of someone who used to love him, who used to watch him play with his friends, who left the world far too soon. As the years passed, his mother had put away the pictures one by one and the only time he was mentioned was in passing during family gatherings or when someone suggested they should watch the old family movies they'd created. Yet he still kept inside him the memory of his father, and the constant reminder of his promise.
He had almost forgotten about the watch, hidden away in some drawer taking up a home next to large white sport socks. Yet he could not forget. It had broken years before and he had yet to get it fixed, partially because every time he picked it up, he was reminded of memories of a person he would never get to see again. He still had so many questions to ask and so many things left unsaid ...
Yet for some reason, while searching for a quarter or some other item that had fallen into the drawer, he felt it and picked it up. He looked down at it, a sense of sadness rushing into him stronger than he realized it would. He rubbed his fingers absently over the face, wiping off whatever lint had accumulated; he couldn't help but remember the last real moments he had with his father.
In those days, you didn't ask your father what kind of person he was, you watched, you observed, you emulated. For some reason, they had never been as close as he wished they had been; he took his presence for granted almost up until the end. But it was what he asked him in his last few moments with his father that he would never forget.
Whenever his father spoke, he always listened carefully for whatever words of wisdom he offered. When his father spoke, everyone listened. Now, here he was, weakened, vulnerable. He waited anxiously and his father said, in an almost whisper. "When I'm gone ... promise me that you'll take care of your mother." But he wasn't the strong one; he wasn't supposed to have to watch his father pass into the next world right in front of him. His father was supposed to be the one to take care of his mother, be there to watch him get married, watch him grow up.
"Do you promise, son?" Of course there was only one logical answer, and it escaped his lips even though he wasn't quite sure what exactly that meant. He could feel as though some powerful magic had just made him and his father closer in that moment than they'd ever been before. It was as if, in that moment, he had a glimpse of what the world was supposed to be and all of the love and hope that it contained because in that moment, he realized how much his father loved him, even though, looking back years later, he couldn't recall if his father actually said the words or that he just remembered it that way.
It was just a watch, but it was yet another reminder of the promise he'd made. He unconsciously rubbed its face again and reality snapped back into view. He set the watch aside, promising himself that he'd take the time to get it fixed. After all, it was more than just a random useless gift; it was a birthday gift from his father, his hero.
So much had changed, and yet nothing important had. His mother still lived in the same house, partially perhaps because on some level, it was still full of the memories of him, and partially because it just didn't seem fair to move on without him.
Deep down, he wondered if his father would be proud of him; would he approve of his life? What would he say if only he was there once more? He had no way of knowing whether or not he was doing the right thing, but he always tried to live right, be a good person, and love with his whole heart.
These thoughts of his father were overshadowed, as the time passed, by the complexity and ordinary business of daily life. But in the back of his mind, he always strove to be the person his father was, and be the man who never broke a promise ...

To Thine Own Self Be True

I've noticed a trend lately in the things I've been writing. When I first started this blog, I just wanted to put random thoughts down on paper ... the funny thing is, I keep a journal, write a blog, and work on my novel all at the same time. Somehow, the original idea of what this blog was meant to be has gotten lost over the last two years and has, instead, focused a lot more on relationships / love. This has a lot to do with the fact that of all the things I write, the ones that get the most feedback always happens to be ones I write about relationships, love, trust, whatever. People write to me from all over the US (don't ask me how they found my blog-but whatever) and strike up a conversation with me.
Usually, I end up hearing their tale-whatever it may be-and it sparks within me inspiration for my next blog topic.
Recently, a friend asked me to write about unrequited love, and the topic is an especially difficult one for me to talk about-for many reasons. My point in telling you the fact that the meaning of my "blog" has somehow gotten lost over the past two years is not because I regret that-going off the "path" is sometimes an integral part of anyone's journey. However, what is especially interesting is that, my heart started out in the right place when I set out to write these blogs. I wanted a place I could just "let it all out" and there was (at least in the beginning) a sense of anonymity, where I could write with reckless abandon and my heart wasn't really too invested in the idea of adding "friends" to my pages-so I didn't have to worry about hurting anyone.
What's ironic about the topic my friend asked me to write about is that unrequited love is a circumstance that, I feel, starts out much the same way as I started out with this blog.
Unrequited love, quite simply put is love that is not returned to the other individual. But I dislike using the word "requited" because it is, essentially, another way to say "returned." So, for the purposes of this blog, unreturned love has to start somewhere.
It usually starts in the heart of one person who is interested in another person for whatever reason. Now, before I continue, I would like to differentiate between scary unreturned love and normal unreturned love (is there such a thing?) … Anyways, I am purposely excluding those individuals who take unreturned love to levels that includes (but is not limited to) stalking, violence, and extreme vindictive behavior.
So it starts with interest. But what defines interest? Some would argue that "interest" is little more than chemicals in the brain that cause us to be attracted to another individual. It is those little chemical signals given off by the brain that cause us to seek out certain people and not others. Personally, I think it is a combination of many things.
The truth is, I can't explain why some people are attracted to other people for no inexplicable reason. I can't explain what causes someone who promised they loved you one minute, only to ignore you the next. I can't explain why someone would talk about marriage in one breath only to complete stop talking to you the next.
There are some things in life that just don't make sense, no matter how much we want them to. We want to find a way of explaining things to soothe our hearts when we feel lost and alone. It's so hard to find someone we connect with (because it's so rare these days) only to discover that they have no interest in you or don't return the level of interest you have in them.
The only explanation that I can offer in circumstances like these is one. Perhaps this explanation will not soothe your heart (you know who you are) and perhaps it can't fix what's already been broken. But the truth always wants to be found, and perhaps this idea is something to consider …
I think what happens is that when we begin to like someone, for whatever reason, we begin to idealize them-place them up on a pedestal where they are impervious to being human. What I mean is, we have somehow made them god-like in our minds without realizing it. Until we can take off those rose-colored glasses, we can't truly see the person in front of us. We want to believe the best in them-so we give them the benefit of the doubt even to our detriment.
I have myself done this a thousand times. When I'm interested in someone, I forget about all the bad habits I see them displaying because I'm so busy picturing how wonderful they are in my head. Don't think I'm crazy; I'm sure that other people do this too. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. In the beginning, we want to believe that they like us back-so our heart fills in all of the little questions we ask ourselves about their character, their judgements, and their personality.
So when they ditch us after promising us the world, we can't figure out why and we're left hanging only to ask ourselves, "what happened?"
Worse, there's a feeling of loss that often accompanies these feelings because we feel as though we are losing something special, something that meant something to us. What becomes readily apparent is that these feelings that we had are clearly not shared by the other person because otherwise, they wouldn't treat us that way. At least, that's what we tell ourselves anyway.
I think the main reason I fell in love with J (and really felt he fell in love with me) is because when we first met, there was no need to think about each other in an idealistic way. We accepted each other because we were both taken at the time. Yet years later, when I sought his advice, I noticed something that I think is key …
When two people fall in love, they go through the same "rose colored glasses" stage. They idealize each other and then, when the feeling wears off, realize that they still love one another. But what happens when they idealize one another, it wears off, and they realize that it's not a good fit? Someone is bound to get hurt …
It just sucks when that person getting hurt turns out to be you. It sucks to have invested your heart and your time and your whatever into a person that will never return how you feel.
This has also happened to me a time or two; I think it happens to all of us. Everyone gets their heart trampled on, stepped on, and sometimes broken. No one is exempt to getting hurt unless they never open their heart up in the first place.
But if you don't open your heart, you'll never be willing to let someone wonderful, faithful, reliable, honest, etc. inside. But at the same time, if you just openly give your heart to each person who promises you the world, you'll run the risk of getting cut open like a fish fillet.
So what is the ultimate answer? I don't know … I do know that you deserve to be loved. You deserve to have someone who appreciates you and knows what they have is great. I've said this a million times, I know, but you should never have to convince someone of how great you are.
Either you're great, or you're not. The right person is going to think you're great and isn't going to let you go no matter what.
One thing I've often seen is how many excuses we give other people when we don't want to date them. "I'm really busy" or "I'm not ready for a relationship" or "I don't know what I want." Etc. etc. While those things may be true, there is one thing I know to be true.
If I wanted my favorite ice cream, and I knew I wanted it, and I knew it wasn't in the freezer, I would go and get it. I probably wouldn't let the cost hold me back, or how much time it took me to get to the store to get it. I certainly wouldn't be (too) annoyed to stand in line and wait as the cashier rang me up. Why? Because it's something that I really wanted. Put whatever it is you've really wanted into the sentence. Computer. T.V. Whatever. My point simply is that if you want something badly enough, nothing is going to stand in your way.
It's like the girl (or guy) that you perceive to be too "shy" or too whatever to ask you out on a date. I've heard one friend in particular (and yes, even myself a time or two) say over and over again how she has to ask guys out because they are too shy to approach her. But the truth of it all is this … (and the truth sometimes hurts) … if he liked you as much as you liked him, he wouldn't let anything stand in his way of asking you out.
Because real life is about finding someone wonderful to spend your time with. Real life isn't what we see on television. Real life means that you could die tomorrow. And if you died tomorrow, would you be happy with what or who you have right now? Because if not, then you'd go out and get whatever it was or whomever it was that you thought even had a possible chance of making you happy.
So that's how I feel about this. It's a tough subject because I'm personally terrible at decoding interest. It's always so much easier to give advice than to take my own …
But anyways, I just want you to know that there is someone out there who is going to love and appreciate you. You won't have to decode them or figure out what their secret word is or why they've abandoned you or why they aren't speaking to you or whatever. If you are dealing with that, my only advice is to try and let them go so you can make room in your life for someone better.
I know it's difficult to let someone you love, someone whom you've shared your dreams with, go. I know because I've been there; it took me 2 years to get over J. But in the end, perhaps instead of focusing on what you don't have with them, maybe it's time to focus on what you do have within yourself. Perhaps instead of looking at the love you are missing out on, you should spend time to know and love yourself.
A good healthy relationship starts from the inside out. When you love yourself, you can love another person. I think that Shakespeare said it best when he said, "To thine own self be true …"

Why We Are Attracted To Broken

On some levels, we are all broken. We all let the things in our lives affect us, our pasts, our experiences, our friends, our families, our biases, our filters, our prejudices, etc. In truth, we are all to some extent a product of our environments!
In our everyday lives, we have the opportunities to interact with people who, like ourselves, have been broken. Some people take the things that happen to them, and take time to reflect, time to adjust themselves, and regroup back to center. Those people have an internal "compass" that eventually points back to their True North. These people don't let their past hurts color their lives or their future. They have the unique ability to be able to learn from the past, and forgive themselves and others, and move on.
For everyone else, however, life is a constant journey toward reaching that True North, that center. I think that many people search their whole lives to find happiness, but they reach for it, only to find themselves just short of it time after time.
One thing I have noticed in talking to people, is just how many broken people really are out there. In your lifetime, especially depending on what you do for your career, you'll probably come across plenty of broken people. If you're good at reading body language, you'll be able to see it in the way they carry themselves, or that faraway distant look in their eyes. But often, we can't tell when people are broken.
So when we get into a relationship with them, we often find ourselves slowly drifting away from "healthy" and into unhealthy without even realizing it.
Sometimes, when we find ourselves in an unhealthy relationship, we often wonder exactly how it is we got there. It didn't start out unhealthy, right? I think we tend to blame ourselves and our own shortcomings (at first) for the reason that things aren't going the way we think they should. So we try harder or we stick around longer, or just the opposite, we give up too early and we run away. The question really comes down to: how do I know I'm in an unhealthy relationship and what can I do about it?
I would, unfortunately argue, that people prefer to stay in an unhealthy broken relationship—but I'll get to that shortly. I think that there are some tell-tale signs when you're in a relationship that's not healthy. In the end, it's up to you to decide when to stay and when to go. But here are some things that I've seen from observing other couples and from past experiences. This stuff is just my opinion. I'm not a doctor; I have no formal training and I certainly don't profess to be an expert or know anything more than the common person. I just observe things and this is what I have seen or witnessed. So take it with a grain of salt if you wish, I won't be offended.
Signs of "Unhealthy":
Demeaning ArgumentsLet's face it, everyone has disagreements—every relationships goes through moments of discourse and unhappiness. I would argue that it's normal to argue! :P It's normal to have a difference in opinion or to not agree on everything. When you need to recognize it's unhealthy is when the other person (or when YOU) put someone down while you're arguing. Now, if you do this in every argument, then you might need to look at yourself and look at how you communicate with other people. But that's too much to look at right now. I should also mention that there are "levels" of healthy (and who's to say in the end how healthy it has to be or what really is healthy. But I can help you determine for yourself how to tell the difference, even if the wording is different). Here's an example of a healthy vs. unhealthy argument.
Let me set the scenario up for you: You and your boyfriend are supposed to go out to dinner. He promised. He's promised you a "date night" for weeks. Of course, given your busy schedules, it has to be after work. But the day comes and he calls you and asks you if he can go get a drink with the guys instead. Here's how it all plays out …
Healthy Argument:You: You really pissed me off today. Them: Why? What did I do?You: Well, I'm upset because you promised that you would take me out to dinner tonight, and you blew me off to go have a drink with the guys and now it's too late to go out.Them: But you said it was okay.You: I know, but I figured you be back in time and … blah blah blah.
Now, one thing you'll notice immediately is that this is more like an interaction than an argument. There's a vital component that's missing from the above conversation and why (in my opinion) things aren't escalating. Now, let's take a look at an unhealthy conversation (same topic).
Unhealthy:You: You are such an ass! You promised me that you'd take me out to dinner. But you forgot!Them: I'm not an ass! I just wanted to have a drink with the guys! I don't see what the big deal is! Why are you getting so upset?You: Because you promised to take me out for weeks! We never go out anymore and it pisses me off when you say you're going to do something and don't do it! You're just so insensitive!Them: Look, I've had a long day, I was tired, and I just forgot, okay?You: That's the problem, you're always forgetting … blah blah blah…Them: Why are you being such a bitch?
Okay, so whenever I'm in a relationship, I really try to pay attention to how they are interacting with me when we argue or disagree. Are they willing to discuss the problem rationally and not make it a personal attack? Because that's a bad (bad) sign. The reason that I think that arguments sometimes escalate into something unhealthy is because one person tends to attack the other person. Look at the unhealthy conversation above. You'll notice that at some point, one person started calling the other person an "ass" which made the other person instantly defensive.
Anyways, I guess my ultimate point is simply that, when you are in an unhealthy relationship, things are eventually going to blow up out of control, no matter what.
The biggest way to tell if you're in an unhappy relationship is to ask yourselves how you feel about yourself when you're with them. Do they make you feel good about yourself? If you can't be honest with them (big red flag), you walk away feeling drained, or you find yourself wanting more and more time away from them, these are all indicators of a bad relationship. This doesn't necessarily mean it has to be a romantic relationship. You can have an unhealthy relationship with a neighbor, friend, boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever. It doesn't really matter.
What matters is, a good person will try to lift you up, support you, make you feel good about yourself, challenge you (in a good way), encourage you, etc. They'll make you want for more, just being around them. They have a way of making you feel good about yourself, and enjoying their company. If you aren't having things go the way you want them to go, then sometimes you must stop and take a look around, and ask yourself why.
Now here's the saddest part (in my opinion). I think if you gave people a choice between choosing a broken relationship and choosing a healthy one, they'd inadvertently choose the unhealthy one every single time. And here's why… because people (whether they realize it or not) would rather be broken. I've touched on this before, but let's take a look closer, okay?
What's the difference between someone who's crazy, and someone who's normal? Okay, crazy is unpredictable. Imagine crazy is like a roller coaster ride: you can never predict what's going to happen next with that person. Therefore, crazy is more exciting because you will experience higher highs and lower lows with crazy. If you don't know what to expect, it instantly beckons that side of you that craves change and unpredictability. That side of you convinces yourself that there is something "special" or "different" about this person, and you're right. I've heard this said a MILLION times. The person will always tell me, "there was just something about this person that I couldn't quite put my finger on …" and later as they lay with their heart in the gutter, wondering what it all means, I'm reflecting on the fact that yet another person has confirmed what I already know: that person that they couldn't quite put their fingers on, was crazy! They just didn't realize it!
You see, crazy is fun at first! Exciting even! It's exciting when you meet someone who is different than you, and yet perhaps a little bit like you-or a little bit of what or whom you'd like yourself to be! If we see someone who, for example, takes all these crazy risks, we'll find ourselves attracted to them because the people we often choose as our partners are a direct reflection of how we see ourselves! Or rather, how we'd like to see ourselves!
Anyways, on the opposite end of the spectrum, are "normal" people. Normal people (although can you really define normal?) are the ones who are stable, have good jobs (or whatever) and minimal drama. These people are consistent, they are like the tea cup ride at the local theme park. While their lives are constantly spinning around them, they stay in one place. They don't go up, they don't go down, they just turn with the environment. Therefore, they're not as exciting! Therefore, they are boring to some. Thus, you'll find a longer line for that roller coaster than you will for the tea cup ride! It's just human nature to want to find that bigger roller coaster, that bigger thrill, that person with the unique qualities that we "can't put our finger on." But here's the think, those people are broken!
The other reason that people prefer to have someone broken in their life is because broken is more newsworthy. Let me explain. If you were to watch the news every night, and it was always about people saving the world, or wonderful things happening, you'd stop watching the news, right? That's the same thing in relationships. Bad news is more newsworthy. Therefore, when someone's in a crappy relationship, it gives them something to talk about with all their friends. It gets them more attention, more compassion, more … whatever! So few people truly are happy these days, but when you find a couple that's truly happy-everyone seems to resent them!
The other reason that the above is true is because … If you find someone normal, someone wonderful, it takes everything you've previously thought about relationships and it changes it. It's like living 20 years of your life and wasting it on terrible people, people you didn't connect with, people you were merely physically attracted to, etc. You see, if you find someone wonderful and all you've had is broken, your whole past doesn't make sense anymore, it was like you wasted all that time with the wrong people. Worse, being with someone wonderful permanently changes how you feel about relationships … suddenly, you start to expect more things from someone. You start to want that same treatment from every relationship. You raise your expectations.
Another reason that I believe people prefer someone broken in their life is because as long as they're in an unhealthy relationship, it allows them never to look inside themselves or make changes in their life! It let's you stay the same, you never have to grow as a person. It's like always looking for someone who's physically attractive, and forgetting about what kind of personality they might have. Would it surprise you if they ended up being a terrible person inside? It shouldn't … Again, like I've said before, people look for people who are a reflection of how they feel about themselves. People who only look for "physical attractiveness" and don't care as much about personality, are they themselves self-conscious about how they look. They want to find someone pretty (handsome) so that they can feel better about themselves. Because if they were ugly, most people wouldn't know that they had a wonderful personality until you got to know them. Some people just can't get past what other people look like. They don't seem to care that life isn't about what you look like, it's about how you feel about yourself. They link physical beauty with inner beauty … but that's another blog for another day. My point is simply that by not looking outside the "box" it allows people to stay in their comfort zone, never challenging themselves to grow or be a better person. I think that people are afraid to think outside the box, they're afraid to be alone (yet another reason I could add but won't), or just don't know what they want. So it's easier to stay the same, and stay with that person.
Finally, I think that people prefer to have someone broken, or to remain in an unhealthy relationship, simply because they don't know what normal looks like. They don't know what having a healthy relationship looks like. There is someone I know whom I think is a wonderful, amazing person. One of these days, I am hoping he realizes that he deserves so much more than what he's getting now from his life. The problem is, he gets into unhealthy relationship after unhealthy relationship and can't ever seem to figure out why. As the years have passed, he continues to remain the same, and never truly finds happiness. Meanwhile, really great women (whom I think he'd do so well with) he passes by. The thing is, I have begun to realize that he probably doesn't even know what healthy is! I don't think he would realize a good thing if it bit him in the ass! And that's sad because … he might miss out on someone amazing all because he continues to look at broken as being normal and okay. But it's not. I don't care how beautiful someone is or how physically attractive they are… in the end, it doesn't make up for them being crazy or them treating you poorly. It just doesn't.
Personally, this subject really hits close to home because … I have gone through a lot in my life-stuff I've worked hard to overcome. You know, I used to get freaked out whenever anyone would come behind me and just touch me on the shoulder. I would flinch if someone came to close to me, and I'd back away. I worked on these issues, and I faced my fears, one by one. Sometimes, I'd ruin potential relationships because of it, or I'd allow my past fears and shortcomings to determine how I'd react in any given situation. But one by one, I faced those things and I've come a long way. But sometimes I feel as though I've worked hard to put those things behind me, only to be passed by because I've got my life together (for the most part). Like I said above, it seems as though people would rather have broken. They'd rather have the girl who has drama (or creates it) or the girl who gives them the roller coaster ride through crazy town. They treat them like crap and ruin potentially great guys by treating them like garbage. Meanwhile, someone like me, who wants and knows what great looks like, who knows a good thing when she sees it, has to side on the side lines and wait for them to even notice me or give me the opportunity to show them what they're missing out on. But the truth is, you shouldn't have to convince someone how great you are. They should be able to see it ... but they don't, because they're used to broken. Maybe (a friend offered this one to me) they think that you're too good to be true and won't give you a chance. So that's what I'm constantly dealing with ... and still waiting for the guy who knows a good thing when he sees it and wants similar things...
I've been waiting for a lonnng time. I'm not complaining; I'd rather wait a lifetime to find someone great than to disillusion myself in finding someone crappy. The truth of it all is, I can't handle getting hurt too many more times; my heart is too sensitive and fragile. But I see how things work, and disappoints me. I try to make sense of why a perfectly good guy would rather stay with "crazy girl" than be with someone like me, and I can't figure it out. Many of my friends ask the same questions, and I can't answer them.
Ultimately, you have a decision to make. You get to decide what makes you happy and what doesn't. But I pray, for your sake, that you pick happiness. Find whatever it is that makes you happy, and do it. Don't settle for sort-of happy (my guy friend told me that the other day), don't settle for "slightly miserable" and don't settle for less than something or someone great. Believe me, they're out there and you will find them! And even if you don't, don't worry.
My final thought is this: a great wise teacher said something to me once and I've applied it to life. I was plugging a formula I'd learned in math into this problem. No matter how many different ways I tried to attack the problem, it didn't work. Nothing seemed to work. I was so freakin frustrated that I wanted to rip up the paper and never touch math again (ugh! I hated that subject)… but when I went back to my teach and he saw all the eraser marks on my paper, he took a look at all the things I'd tried and said, "If you find a formula that isn't working right, stop using it. Don't try it again on another problem, figure out a formula that works, and then try it until you get it right. When you do it right, it should be easy."
In a nutshell, when it's the right thing to do, it should come relatively easily. It shouldn't be that difficult. Relationships don't have to be difficult, especially at the beginning. So if you find that you are putting in a lot of effort with very little result, perhaps you should take a step back, and ask yourself if you are using the right formula, or if you're with the right person.
It's okay to admit defeat; it's okay to move on, and it's okay not to be perfect. After all, it's just math. It's just the rest of your life and a few eraser marks on the paper of your life won't matter when you've gotten the answer or the person right.