Until then there’s you

An ex boyfriend or three have told me I’m unemotional. Their exact words may have been “heartless bitch”, but details…..

I am unemotional to people.  I do not understand how to properly show emotion.  I smile at the wrong time, I cry only at sad Christmas commercials, and have to have the words “I love you” prodded out of me even if I mean it.  Don’t even get me started on hugs.

I’m not sure there is a single person on earth that knows how I truly feel about them, or even if I feel period!

I know, I’m working on it.

Until then there is this.  I’ve always been better at filling pages with my emotions.  I have so many emotions, that many of you know I have struggled to come to terms with.  I just want to make someone else feel.  Feel like it’s okay to have emotions, and it’s okay to not be okay every single fucking day of your life. But most of all it’s okay to let people see you at your weakest points.

Someday I hope I share these things with the people in my life, but until then there’s you.

A blog a day keeps the doctor away

This Christmas has been a strange one.  For many reasons, our family has seemed disjointed.  Whether this is good or bad, I’ve used this time to keep my focus away from some of the negativity and focus on myself and reflecting on the past year.

2016 has been busy.  If you cannot tell by the number of blog posts I’ve written, I have been working like a crazy person.  Maybe with no results and maybe with some.  It’s been tough, and I’ve realize that I’m not happy with what I’ve done with this past year.

I feel very average.  I’ve made 0 progress on my fitness goals, 0 progress on my writing goals, 0 progress on social media goals (it pains me to say that even as a millennial). I’ve made some progress in my job, but for every step of progress there is a French man in the background tearing it down.

Is average bad?  No, it’s not.  But at what point do you settle for average?  At what point do you silence that little piece of your brain taunting you, that you want to have the whole world in front of you, but you’re okay with what is on the plate directly in front of you?

I’m not ready for that. I am eternally grateful for the life I’ve been given, but does that mean settling?

I don’t believe in New Years resolutions. I will start today though with my first:

A blog a day keeps the doctor away.

I always want to write more.  About DC, about life, about battling with anxiety and depression, about always being a small fish in a big pond, and of course about Bailey Bear.

So while my blog may be painstakingly average and talk about work and attempting to try every amazing pasta dish in the DC, Baltimore, and Pittsburgh area, at least it will be something to be accomplished in 2017.

 

It’s not always rainbows and butterflies

I have accomplished so many things in the past year.  Truly huge things.  I am grateful, I’m humbled, and I am working to maintain these accomplishments.

But it just gets lonely. 

It’s never been a secret I don’t have the type of family you can just call up and tell about your day. I spend a lot of time wishing I had someone to share my happiness with.  

Until then I’ll just keep working.

This deserves to be untitled.

I have many amazing, beautiful things happening in my life right now.  I’ve been dying to post about them but found myself in a whirlwind lately.

My whirlwind stopped today, but it was stopped by something far different than I expected, and so today I can’t talk about those amazing, beautiful things, but rather something else as beautiful, but heartbreaking.

During my before-bed scrolling of Facebook, I came across a gofundme page for someone I used to work with.  I immediately worried he had become sick.  To my surprise, I clicked on the link to find that he had killed himself three days ago.

I will not pretend for a second I was close with him or knew his family, because I wasn’t.  I’d say hello and make small talk and eventually we grew to a point where we’d have normal conversations.  In those small moments though, there was one thing about him that was incredibly clear.  He had a beautiful, uplifting spirit.  He always had a smile on his face, and had such a kind demeanor.  It truly seemed like he just wanted the world to be happy.

I cannot say that I’m grieving, because I am not.  I can only pray for his family and friends, and ponder the same question as many others.  How do we not see these things coming?  How can we continuously be shocked by the loss of someone we wanted nothing more for then for them to be happy.

How on earth can we still have this negative stigma with mental illness that makes a person feel like they have no options left.  That makes someone feel like they cannot handle one single more day on this earth.  We sit here and repeat these phrases over and over again, yet we still fail to give love as freely as it’s needed.

I have been in many dark places over the years, and I can say with certainty that the only way I was able to come out was because of acceptance.  Acceptance of help, acceptance of others, acceptance that this didn’t have to be my life.  But none of those things I could have done on my own. I have been blessed to have an amazing support system.

I cannot tell enough people how grateful I am for them today and how much I love them.  You should too.

Am I a Marnie?

One day ago, I was a completely different person.

If you have never felt like that, I applaud you and your mental health.

The world just crashes down around you, and the weight of it all holds you in bed watching Girls non stop with your cat, and hoping that one day someone as attractive as Adam Driver will care about you because no one else in the world does.

That was my Friday and Saturday.

Am I depressed or just self-involved is really the question?  I thought I was on medicine to help with the first.

After a nap (that shortly followed 9 hours of sleep) I got out of bed, went to brunch, and like a slap in the face I realized that the ridiculous, crazy, beautiful people I surround myself with are my life.  No, I have 0 intimacy with anyone and my family is MIA half of the time, but I have wonderful people in my life that will go out of their way to make me happy.  And that makes me happy.

Guess not everyone’s happiness looks the same and I can’t compare what mine looks like.

Why don’t we paint a pretty picture

I really need to stop skipping months on here.  It’s so difficult when I don’t get home till 9 pm from work/gym.

Note to self: get better about blogging on a stationary bike (great post-workout cool down by the way, especially if you have hip problems like me).

Enough about my physical issues though.  I want to paint a pretty story for you.

I have been 5’10 since I was 13.  Yes you heard that correctly, THIRTEEN.  In high school, in the early years especially, you are painted as a freak.  You are called giraffe, jolly green giant, talk drink of water, and you are asked once a week why you won’t play basketball.  Boys are too self conscious to even entertain the thought that you could be attractive, and you are thus seen as a leper for the following four years.  That was my life in high school.

So on to college.  In college, the first boy that thought I was pretty seemed like a miracle to me.  Was I actually attractive all this time?!  My friends used to say that but I used to spend nights alone crying because it couldn’t be true. I finally met boys, and I learned to not lean over to be shorter in pictures, and that yes it was okay to wear heels and be 6’1 and introduce myself as Giselle.

That just made it sound easy.  Trust me, it wasn’t.  Everyone has body issues, EVERYONE (just the other day I decided I wanted a nose job again).  But it’s incredibly hard when your issue is with everything that you are physically.  Yeah, maybe I was skinny, but I still TOWERED over all of my other female friends.  I walked around with my shoulders hunched for years.

Finally in college, I dated someone who was 5’8.  This was unheard of for me.  And guess what?  He LOVED the fact that I was taller than him.  He finally gave me the confidence to wear heels whenever I wanted.  I didn’t need to feel like crying anymore because all of my friends looked cute and I had to wear flats.  In reality, he was a terrible person in 16 other ways, but the one thing he gave me was the ability to finally just live in my own skin.

These days, I’ve dated people are 5’8 and I’ve dated people who are 6’5.  Most have turned out to be shitty people, but all truly liked me, my height included.  I am lucky, I love myself, and while my body hates all the pizza and vodka I consume on the weekend, I love it too.

So HOW MUCH DID I WANT TO HURT SOMEONE, when I’m standing amongst a group of friends, and I hear a guy, a friend of a friend, telling someone else that I was disgusting.  Yes, I lost a bet and was drinking a Long Island, but that was not the reason.  This tall, semi-good looking man, was saying I was completely unattractive because I was tall.  He asked his friend why on earth would I wear heels, knowing that no man would ever be attracted to me.

I did not punch him in the face.

I realized that I was six worlds above him, but more so, how disappointing it is that men still think they have the right to “deem” you attractive or not.  Like they get to decide your self esteem.  They think that because they don’t think I’m beautiful, no one else, including myself, can think I am either.

Well guess what, I THINK I’M A SOLID 9.

I’m successful, intelligent, friendly, somewhat funny, sarcastic, and attractive.  GET THE FUCK OVER YOURSELF.

Thanks….really needed to get that out.  Also, I have a twitter…@thedcbrunette.

 

I’ll take you

Today was one of those days when I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.  Or maybe I made the mistake of checking my work email shortly after I got up.  That was probably it.

Things didn’t really improve as the day went on either.  I felt discouraged, grumpy, and annoyed.  It’s that feeling that washes over you when someone tells you you don’t deserve something.  Where you go “who on earth have you the privilege to plan my life”.  That feeling.

Even the people I typically turn to on these kind of days were negative.  Or normal, the negative part was probably in my head. 

Now that all of the pretty details are out of the way I can get to the fun stuff.  

I found hope.  I found hope in something so small and insignificant, but it was there and it was mine.  For a few hours I felt like maybe things weren’t so bad, and that maybe one day I’ll actually love a living thing more than my cat (ok she’s perfect, almost as much as her).  

You may think it’s gone, but when you truly need it, you’ll find it searching for you.

Long time no blog

I’ve apparently been too busy working 12-14 hours a day.

Some days I just want to pack up all my stuff and move to the west coast.  Somewhere warm like San Diego.

But today isn’t that day.

Pass the Xanax

Do you ever wonder how many minutes a day you spend worrying?  I’m pretty certain I spend 80% of my waking hours worrying.

Worrying about my future, worrying about what my coworkers think of me, worrying I’m going to get a project done on time, worrying about if my body will process the crap I ate for lunch.
I have anxiety.  I have been treated for three years now but very people know, including my family.  After months of worrying instead of sleeping, I quietly went to the doctor.  And god it felt good to sleep again.

But days like today, I just want to be as good as everyone else.  I just want to stop worrying.

I want ice cream

Everyone is always telling me, “just slow down, be patient, good things will come”.  And no, this is not in a line waiting for ice cream.

Do you know what it’s like to tell a perfectionist with anxiety issues to be patient?  If you answered no, good, I’m not going to tell you what happens because it’s not pretty.

What I will tell you, is that my mind starts going in a vicious circle.  I give reasons why I don’t want to wait, “I’ve waiting long enough”, “all I have is my cat and my job”, “I work hard and I deserve it”, etc. Then of course my mind comes to the conclusion that I’m clearly not working hard enough, or I would have better results.  So now I just have to work 10x harder, try to focus on being happy, and make all the good things happen.

Yes, I’m aware of my irrational thought process.  I said I like margaritas and live in the district, never said I wasn’t crazy.

So now I’m going to let you in on a secret that I mentioned in my last post…I DON’T THINK I DESERVE TO BE HAPPY.

That’s the problem.  And that’s why I get so angry.  It’s like my brain starts a boxing match saying, yes I do deserve to be happy but wait, clearly you don’t because you aren’t.  But I’m the one making myself feel small!  That is the problem.

So here I am, trying to do things for myself.  To make myself at peace.  To be happy with who I’ve become.  In other words, if I don’t write at least three blog posts this week, someone send me nasty hate messages.