The Blog That Reeks Of Humanity

On several occasions, I’ve given a disclaimer at the beginning of a blog.  Some warn that what follows will be an overshare, or that there’s a chance of strong language, or that I know sense will no be made follows in what, or that the subject matter may be such a bummer that the reader be advised to remove all sharp objects or strong drugs from immediate reach, or the latest previous disclaimer that I know what I going to write be wrote bad.  Like woah.

Today, it’s a disclaimer that what follows is likely to be overly honest, overly personal, and probably not too uplifting.  That said…

I’ve held off on writing anything that means anything for a while because to be perfectly candid, life hasn’t been so great.  I realize that in the wake of the Haiti Earthquake, my problems really are quite pitiful compared to the gravity of their situation.  Still.  Being able to see that someone is struggling in ways that I can’t even comprehend doesn’t mean I don’t struggle.  Knowing that the hurt and devastation they are going through certainly far trumps my own, doesn’t make mine cease to be.  With few other outlets, this is the one I usually turn to when things go pear shaped.  I’ve avoided writing because things have been messed up under the surface, even when the surface has appeared happy.  I’ve avoided writing because I’m afraid of talking about being happy and having it taken away.  I’ve avoided writing because my pride exists and this need to appear put together and polished still exists too.  Today, I’m writing because regardless of the surface or whats underneath, or happiness, or pride, or needs, or whatever – I’ve always valued honesty above all things.  So, in all honesty, here it is. 

I’ve been in an odd limbo with the guy I’m currently with since we officially broke up back in September.  We were really only apart for a week, then were together occasionally, did REALLY badly during October and when I left for my trip to Minnesota that same month I sincerely thought I wouldn’t talk to him again.  He went on his own trip to South Carolina the day I returned from mine…and when he got back…things were different.  Things were awesome.  In truth, they’ve been awesome ever since.  There’s been moments of hurt and frustration, but for the most part – he’s been amazing.  All that said, we haven’t officially been back “together” since the original break.  We’ve been heading in that direction, but haven’t put a title on it for one reason or another…reasons on both my side and his. 

That’s a brief (and incredibly edited and abridged) overview of Us.  Now flash back a few years and we’re back to a younger, dumber me.  This topic is probably going to seem a bit from left field, but it’ll all come full circle and make sense shortly, so bear with me.  Back then when I met a guy and he was spoken for, I didn’t purposely persue him, but I didn’t do anything to prevent it either.  Yes, it bothered me to be in morally questionable and socially unacceptable (though, it breaks my heart to see how near-acceptable these things are becoming) circumstances, but it was usually the result of my over empathizing with some guy’s sob story that got me hooked and then stuck.  I found myself often listening to men talk about how unhappy they were in their relationships and how they weren’t appreciated, and were nagged, and didn’t love the girl they were with, and this and that and whatever, and each time I saw something redeeming in one of them, I automatically looked down on the supposedly at-fault-female and sided with the guy.  On two occasions, this sort of misguided affection led to relationships with men who I had no right to call my own.  One was married.  One was not.  I was clearly at fault along with them, and there are no words adequate enough to express my remorse and sorrow over the pain I know I caused all involved. 

At the time, once I woke up and saw the guy for the selfish douche he really was, I was out and done with contact.  When I heard that the women stayed with or went back to these guys, I looked down on them and often saw them as fools for staying with men who didn’t value them enough to stay faithful.  Like I said…one was married and had no excuse.  The other, he pursued me while in the relationship and then things reached their height when he and the girl were “on a break”.  Both, I left.  Both women I resented for their attitude towards me, feeling that their anger should have been aimed more at the asshats that put them through hell in the first place.  And both men I was bitter at for “getting away with it” and seeming to still win in the overall picture. 

Over two years ago for one, and a year and three months later for the other…and my feelings are rather different – because now I get to be one of those women. 

Ever since I walked away from that sort of stupidity, I’ve feared for any relationship I may enter in the future.  I’ve felt like karma (because “you reap what you sow” is more wordy, not because I actually believe in “karma”) was lying in wait to kick me in the ass.  Do I deserve it?  To some extent, probably.  Did I expect it?  Yep.  But did I think better of this guy and hope he wasn’t just like them…yeah.  I did.  As it turns out, I’m the girl who’s guy went gallivanting while we were technically broken up.  Of course, he had the right to do whatever he wanted – of that I’m not arguing.  That doesn’t change the fact that this feels shitty.  It also doesn’t change the fact that he lied about it…and that’s the big issue. 

A friend of mine told me about his actions, and as a result I felt it necessary to have a conversation about it and right the heck now.  That was Monday.  We talked about it.  We talked about us.  In the end, we finished the conversation as something we haven’t officially been since September – Us. 

Yes, I’m that girl that still stays with the guy.  Whether it’s misguided or foolish or not, it is what it is.  If the last few months of awesome hadn’t happened, there’s no way in hell I’d have stayed.  I hate that it took going through the same thing to understand her – but the girl I looked down on – I get it.  I understand not wanting to give someone up simply because they proved to be human.  I understand loving someone enough to forgive (even when the wrong really wasn’t directed at you) and move forward.  I understand the kind of love that looks at the good in someone and sees it as worth holding out for.  Girl I met once who understandably hated me – I get it. 

So here we are, full circle.  I’m in an odd place with this, really, and it shifts from hour to hour.  I know I’m quieter.  I know a large part of me is sad.  It’s another part of humanity that I hoped was less consistent across the spectrum of men and women.  The neat thing about this is something that I know few will understand…and that’s simply understanding.  Seeing another facet of life, going through something that grows and changes you as a person, and something that has completely lifted any lingering (of which there was little, really, but knowing what it was at the time…) animosity towards those people from my past…I’m almost glad.  I’m not glad for what he did, but I’m glad for the timing of finding out.  If I had known immediately, then I’m quite certain he would no longer be in my life.  If I had found out even a month or two ago…probably the same thing.  Now, in this time, with everything as it is – it’s different. 

Sometime it takes horrible things in life to understand the people around us – to understand life.  And sometimes it takes horrible things to realize another level of love – the kind that lets go of the past, and embraces the future.  I don’t know what tomorrow looks like, and a part of me is scared.  God is still God.  We’re still here.  And somehow, things won’t always feel this way.

The Blog That’s Angsty and Soused

It’s 10:37pm on a Tuesday night.  I have a glass of orange soda and citrus vodka on my nightstand.  My eyes are killing me because I have been putting off going to the Doctor for new lenses for probably near 4 months now.  Oh, and the Angels just got their asses handed to them in a 10-to-1 loss of which I was present to witness.

Rock on.

For several reasons, the above paragraph (not the sentence immediately below it, just to be stupidly clear) has material that is likely grounds for concern.  For one, it’s nearly 11-O-Clock and I should probably be sleeping since I do have work at some point tomorrow.  Two – the whole procrastinating on taking care of ones eyesight thing is pretty lame when considering the simplicity of such an action and the immediate gratification that said action would cause by not feeling as if there was a coral reef lodged in ones eyeball should be motivation enough to take care of the situation…and yet…?  Three should have been two by chronological order but I felt it best to leave the random fact that there’s not only alcohol on my nightstand (wierd), but that it’s mixed with…orange…soda…what?  Really?!

Four: I’ve never commented on the outcome of an Angels game, but this one was horrific and to be perfectly honest, I’m beginning to take their loses personally when I’m present to see them.  I’m not even going to go into the ratio of losses I’ve been present for…it’s just depressing and makes me self conscious.

It’s been a strange day, and before that a strange monday, and while we’re at it a gruesome weekend to match.  To be fair, Saturday was amazing for the most part – it was my own idiot self that decided that too much truth serum (read: C₂H₅OH) was reason enough to open my mouth and let words pour forth, thereby slicing my awesome day into bloody ribbons.  Oh, we still made a good night of it in some regards, but the next morning is the state of mind I have been having trouble departing from.  It’s not even that I said anything so terrible – it’s that awful feeling of being exposed and since the conversation was interrupted and never resolved…exposed is where I remain.

I don’t like being transparent, really.  It’s a horribly vulnerable place to be when you leave yourself from your very core at the mercy of another human being’s reaction.  For this one, I have done this on many occasion and rightly so up unto a point.  Now…I’m not sure what to make of things and instead of fostering intimacy (not like that) I feel like I’m gutting myself and then quickly building up walls in its place where before there were none.  Perhaps it is right that I feel this way…perhaps not.  The problem really isn’t this person or the circumstances of the weekend or the past two days or any of that – it’s the all too familiar place I have found myself in, only this time, I don’t have the “well, obviously” way to find my way out.

I feel like I’m floundering.  I’m trying to hang on to two very obvious things that I am anguished to let go of.  One of them I’m not willing to let go of ever for any reason, but that isn’t making me feel any better.  The other…well…that is what it is and I have little control over its outcome.  Half the time I don’t know which way is up and when I do, I never feel like I’ve reached the surface of the water under which I’m drowning.  I’m tired of feeling disappointed and let down – both my man and God.  I hate that I have had expectations exceeding anything more than what I have experienced so far and want to punch every specific hope for the future in the face for having the audacity to present its self to me.  My mind can spew forth answers that have been ingrained in me since childhood, but my heart can’t find the strength to latch on and go with it.  I hate that I let myself think that situational anomalies meant anything more than random chance in their timing.  And I hate that I have to censor the specific content here so that few if any will grasp what I’m getting at.

My reality at the moment is rather humbling.  I have again found myself in a place that I once pitied in another…a trend that is strikingly consistent in my life.  With that realization there comes little more than sadness.  There’s no “ah ha!” moment, here…but as much as I hate to hope, there has to be hope for one soon.

The Blog That’s Wrote Bad Like Woah

Every time I sit down to write one of these things, I end up becoming best friends with the delete button.  Seriously, I’m surprised there’s still writing visible on it’s lovely white surface.  There’s more to it than just changing my mind on wording – I have been having the hardest time figuring out what to say and what to leave out and which side of the topic to present (because in all honesty, I could fight either side of the argument depending on the issue at hand) and how much information is too much and what is too little and blah blah blah and all of that added to the incredibly awesome fact that my sometimes present proficiency with words has been more than a little sketchy if not completely absent.

Heck yes for run on sentences that serve both a narrative purpose and set the tone for what will likely be another haphazard literary offering.  Proceed.

As just about anyone with the wherewithal of a fruit fly can observe, I’m in an odd place.  This forum really doesn’t grant me the liberty of absolute transparency, but it still provides what this place has always been used for – a place to work out my shit stuff.  (Seriously, the “shit” word would have fit SO much better there, but I’m trying to keep it PG for the parents kids)  I process by conversation – whether it be a monologue or dialogue.  My odd place of the moment is one I’m not quite sure which side of the hole I want to dig myself out of, to be honest, and it’s made for some conflicting material upon which to write.  Talking in circles with girlfriends, or crying in the shower (because it’s totally not tears if there’s already water on your face, right?) or the car (I can’t defend that one), or perfecting the art of frown lines, or laughing like you MEAN IT can only take you so far.  Eventually, things have to be processed, decisions made, and life lived.

Life.  Depending on the time of day, I’m not sure which one of those I want anymore.  On one hand, family and kids and houses with picket fences (minus the picket fence, really) sounds swell.  On the other, it sounds like a fantasy of a little girl before life happened and hope all but expired.  This truth isn’t new – but the honesty on the matter, perhaps, is.

B and I always got along fantastically.  We complimented each other well, looked good together, had fun together, and probably could have lasted together if both of us had been willing to try hard enough to make it happen.  I remember, however, an evening probably 4 years ago.  We had gone over to his brothers house after work one night and were sitting on a sofa in the garage just talking.  I was drinking a Heineken.  The conversation came easy, and we were discussing all manner of things when he turned to me during a lull in the conversation.  He looked at me just a bit more carefully and said “You and I come from completely different worlds, don’t we?”.  I laughed and agreed.

It’s true.  Our backgrounds are complete polar opposites.  Our families, beliefs, upbringing, outlooks on life, habits, etc. are all drastically different.  We have some of the same interests and similar tendencies, but the things that probably drew us together I’m only now realizing.  Attraction is a starting point but at the end of the day, that’s not all there is.  I always knew we had a common love for our families.  We both were genuinely good-hearted and overall kind.  We both wanted to enjoy life and get the most out of it.  After the break and into our whatever-you-want-to-call-now-ship I realized that despite the differences, we were in some regards exactly the same: we both had been through enough to bring us to the same point in life – a point full of questions and very few answers.

We perhaps have more in common now than we ever did then.

We discovered this a week or so ago over drinks and ever since, the way I see him has shifted just slightly.  I’m not sure what to make of it, to be honest, but the difference is there.  This blog isn’t about him, really.  It’s more a reflection on what’s brought me to here and how I’m not sure what to do with it.  Not gonna lie – it helps to know we’re both there, though.

So where is there?  For me (because I can’t speak for him) it’s a lot of second guessing.  There’s replays of the past and what to take from it and what to discard.  I drift from one thing to the next with little emotion on the matter, and only really stop and take note when a character or two present themselves.  I hate living a life dependent on situational nonsense and my head tells me I should live a life dependent on God – but my past attempts at that have failed so miserably that the idea leaves me listless and despondent.  I came to a point the other day where I wondered how I would see God if I threw out the entirety of my past experiences and only granted validity to scripture and sound teaching.  I realized that I’d likely see Him quite differently – and then the battle of whether or not that would be foolish and idealistic to just discard such “lessons” began.

Sometimes, I think being deeply stupid would make life far less complicated.  Intelligence is a force of its own to be reckoned with.  An analytical mind can be even more of a torment. Gosh, that sounds pretentious.

I drive myself crazy with this nonsense.  Funny, how the one who first got me started using that word has resurfaced and again his presence has made me tilt my head and go “Hmm”.  He seems to appear at very uncanny times in my life (unbeknownst to him) and every time I wonder why.  Not why on his part, but why in the grand scheme of things.  I’ve had theories – but they mostly make me feel like a silly little girl and then be glad that no one has perfected the art of mind reading.

I guess that’s a great example of part of my problem – I tend to shape my view on life and God and everything else through the filter lense of the ones around me.  I know who I am, yes, but knowing what I want…well…that’s getting complicated.  Wait…I take that back.

I know what I want.  The problem is fearing I’ll never have it, so I “give up” that want and replace it with…nothing.  It’s not hard to get nothing out of life.  Facing the possibility of disappointment, however…that IS hard.  Yes, if I’m honest, I have a very clear picture of who and what I’d choose for this life.  With no guarantees and plenty of past let downs, it is all too tempting to throw all that into the furnace and hope for nothing more than to get by.

And that, is precisely where I am – dead even between hope and saying “never mind”…and without the slightest idea of which side of the hole to climb out of.

The Blog With User Error

Life is a funny thing.  Of course by “Funny” I mean tumultuous, unpredictable, remarkable, and sometimes horrific tinged with a bit of the elusive spectacular.  It’s certainly full of surprises and I constantly find myself having to re-evaluate my perspective on things based on its consistent barrage of curve balls.

The last three weeks have been interesting to say the least.  Some characters in my life have re-surfaced, some have exited stage left, and some I wish would exit stage right.  I’ve gone from thinking I know what I want in this crazy thing called life, to realizing that I’m not so sure.  No, I’m not having a crisis, really.  I’ve spent at least a moment or two a day 19/21sts of the past three weeks in some form of tears, but I’m remarkably not unhappy.  (and is there a WORSE way to word that???)  For the most part, I feel almost like an observer watching eight movies at the same time and being expected to give a full report of each upon its conclusion.  It’s near complete system overload.  But…there’s some good to be found.

The last few days especially have given me reason for concern in some elements of myself, but also reason to be glad that certain traits no longer apply.  Yes, I’m being vague.  Put it this way – there’s a trend in my past which I severely hate and wish to be dead and burried…and I realized at its near re-surfacing two days ago it pretty much is.  Of course, there’s other traits that are very much still kicking, but that’s besides the point.

I’m someone who is tempted to get wrapped up in everything and everyone around me and forget, well, me.  What people say and do when it’s aimed in my direction is something I take incredibly personally and find myself granting a dictating power over my daily existence.  This weekend, I had more than a handful of male characters in my life resurface and all of them demand a portion of my life which is something I am unwilling and uninterested to give.  Sounds grand, right?  (no)   Problem is, in the past I’ve always felt pressure to make other people happy even when I makes me unhappy.   This means feeling terrible for turning something down, even though turning said thing down is exactly the correct response.  I feel overwhelmed when too much is demanded of me by anyone who I lack the affection to be demanded of.  I got to a point this weekend where it was nearly too much – until I realized that I didn’t owe them a damn thing, and for the first time was completely ok with not caring.

Sounds horrible, perhaps.

I’m realizing that most of my problems in life have come from a sick sort of attempt to make someone else happy…I’ve taken interest when there should have been none.  I’ve gone too far, because I’ve been afraid to anger someone.  I’ve let things go because I’ve feared disappointment or resentment from someone who means something to me.  I’ve done what I don’t want to – and not in trivial “putting someone before myself” sorts of ways – these are things that have gauged at me, stolen from me, scarred me, and all of them were unnecessary…and mostly my fault.  This life’s “problems” when they come to me aren’t really to be blamed on many people other than myself.  It’s a User Error of the most epic kind.

In some regards, this realization sucks.  It’s not overly exciting to recognize that there’s really no one to blame for the crap in your life but yourself.  On the flip side, it’s kinda awesome because that means this world (potentially) isn’t quite as terrible as once assumed.  I’ve wavered on the brink of never wanting kids because the idea of bringing someone into this world and forcing this “life” upon them seems cruel and unfair.  Honestly, for the most part, that’s really not my heart – but the thought certainly enters my head from time to time.  I don’t take this life for granted, but at the same time it’s not something I’m terribly stoked about either.  Everything I felt I had figured out has been called into question – God, love, family…and I’m left uncertain of what to make of it all.

Anyone who knows the realities of my life will probably have the factual thread necessary to tie this all together.  Anyone else, well, this appears likely as disjointed as I feel.

The Blog With the Magic Wand

Re-programming is a sucky process.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m utterly and completely thrilled to be at a point of re-learning how to live life in a non-cynical and healthy manner…but I often times find myself like a small child in the backseat of a car during a much anticipated trip asking every five minutes “are we there yet?!”.  Indeed, the process seems to drag on FOREVER, and every time I think I have the lesson learned something comes up and stares me in the face going “Nuh uh.  No you don’t”, and again I flounder.  I squirm.  I get endlessly frustrated with myself because I can’t just suddenly “Get it” and be a completely complete and above anything that’s happened prior to now.

I was having this conversation with a very dear friend of mine and said something to the effect of “I just want to be done with the process, and be fine, and never think this way again”.  She, in her endless patience and nearly unparalleled way of saying what I need to hear in the way I need to hear it replied with “This is one thing where you can’t just wave your magical Natalie Wand and make it all better”.

I didn’t really want to hear that.

At the same time, I know she’s right.  For all intents and purposes a huge part of who I am has been in a coma for the last three years.  After the break-up of 2006, I never really let myself be myself as I was told by this person just how wrong I was in just about everything I did.  Basically, I stopped drawing, painting, singing, writing (for anything other than blog/journals, that is), stopped being outgoing and authentic, stopped being truly open, and stopped risking anything more than flesh.  I held back in just about everything where I used to feel a freedom to be something other than bland.  The cool part about where I am now is seeing all this for what it is, where the restriction came from, and kicking the crappy programming to the curb.  The bummer is that said programming curb kicking is taking more than just a little effort and on occasion leaves me quite bothered for trying.  I’ve convinced myself it’s worth it.  Life is worth it.  My relationships with family and friends are worth it.  He is worth it.

I left the old domain name for this blog for a few reasons.  The new title is from Corinthians, and when I heard it during a recent church service, I knew I had to use it somehow.  Three remain.  Faith.  Hope.  Love.  Faith that the process is not endless, and life is not just what I have known it to be so far.  Hope in something outside of myself – and trusting that Something to take care of the things I cannot.  And love…the most wretched of four letter words, as far as my previous mind set saw it.  Love is something I had in my head and heart for God, family and friends but didn’t really know what to do with.  I’d said it to one other since that summer in Georgia more out of a sense of obligation than a heart felt conviction.  And now…

It’s still technically a four letter word.  The previous software tells me it’s terrifying and awful and risky and not worth the pain, and a part of me had reverted back to the original software (prior to 2006) that thought it was impossible for me to honestly love anyone.  New program updates, however, aren’t nearly so convinced that the above is true.  Oh, of course it’s still risky and terrifying – but it’s something I have increasing difficulty denying and a statement I catch myself biting my tongue to contain.

I don’t have it all figured out.  The Magic Natalie Wand has yet to work wonders on all areas of my thinking…but noting the above, and seeing that even tiny miracles do happen – it makes me dare hope for what is yet to come.