Breaking the cycle

I wrote a post not so long about the people we meet, the people who give us hope.  The people that we meet them and instantly we feel like every day is filled with something better.

But then there are those those people who take away all of our hope.  The people that say one word, and instantly our hearts are on the ground, and everything within us deflates.

These people become such important fixtures in our lives.  They stick around for as long as we allow them, we obsess over their every action and every word they speak to us.  We want so badly for them to be the people that give us hope, but each time, they let us down.

We fixate on these people so much that in our minds, they become these grandiose characters. We feel like they are part of our lives, but when you sit down and dissect all the little things that make you who you are, they are just people who wandered into the picture. Their thoughts of us are just thoughts, they are not a part of us.

How do we get rid of them?  People that we want so badly to fill our hearts with something beautiful, with everything that makes us feel content.

They are not the people that we need.  Say it out loud.  It hurts.  It hurts to say that this enigma cannot be part of my life anymore.  But that is what it is.

I’ll protect you

I have never written the words, to keep this little piece of magic inside my head for just a little bit longer.

When the words find their way out, the past will finally be where it is, never to return to the living,

I want to hold the memory close for just a little longer.

I want to keep the sun in my mind, and pretend that I’ll never have to relive that feeling when the plane hit the runway.

I’ll protect you, don’t you worry.

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.

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.

Hey, can we spend more time together?

I will never get the things I want unless I ask.  I will never get the things I want unless I ask.

I don’t understand why that concept is so hard for me, and many other women, to understand.

Let’s use a friend of mine’s relationship as an example.  This situation could also fit a relationship or two of mine in the past.  Friend was dating a guy who was somewhat emotional stunted.  He was 31 and acted like he was 21 and had never dated before in his life.  She wanted more from their relationship: more time, more affection, etc.  One day, she lost it from all the frustration of wanting more, and lost her cool with him about how he wasn’t giving her enough for the past year.  And he ended things.

That’s a shitty story, and while I didn’t particularly like him, I can see where he was coming from a bit.  How can you be with someone who is so afraid to ask you for what they want?  They’re so willing to except mediocrity until one day they can’t, just because they couldn’t ask a damn question.

Hey, can we spend more time together?

It’s baffling that we spend so much time putting other people ahead of ourselves to look like some type of saints, but guess what…..NO ONE IS A SAINT.

Relating back to my life, I very recently interviewed for a new position in my company.  I received the offer today, WITH THE EXACT SALARY THAT I HAD WANTED TO GET.  Call me crazy, but suddenly I wanted more.  So instead of saying, yes that sounds wonderful, I asked for 5% more.

Why purposely take less if you can ask for more?  Someone else in the office said I would look greedy….I don’t give a shit.  All I did was ask a fucking a question.  A question!  Since when did asking a question have to make us needy, annoying, greedy, rude, and selfish.

It doesn’t.  We’re allowed to be fucking people and we’re allowed to be fucking excited about our lives.

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.

To Love and Be Loved

My grandmother was not a saint by any means.  While she was alive, my sister would tell a story about my grandmother chasing her around the house with a butter knife because she had gotten mouthy with her.  As many people raised during her time, she was not the most open-minded person, and she said some things that would sometimes make us wince and pretend we didn’t hear it.  We joked at times that my grandfather would turn off his hearing aid so he wouldn’t have to listen to her, but there may have actually been some truth to that.  Yet every birthday she called me first thing in the morning with the most annoying “singing” birthday candle, and she’d see along to it and wish me happy birthday.

When I was in grade school, I’d take the bus to her house every day after school where she’d make me do my homework before I was allowed to have ice cream with chocolate syrup on it (and even then I was only ever allowed one scoop).  She would make me practice my times tables over and over again until they were perfect.  Just the other day at work I had to think about what 9×8 was and felt slightly ashamed.  If I brought home lower than an A on a test I was asked what I could have done better.  When I graduated college summa cum laude, she wasn’t there to see it but I knew so much of it was her doing.  And when I accepted my first job, I wished that I could have called and thanked her.

Each time I would come home from college to visit her, she would hand me $100 and tell me to do something for myself, but spend it wisely.  And when my mother tried to stop me from studying abroad, we had one of the hardest conversations I’ve had to this day.  She told me that she wanted to me to go, and that she wanted me to be able to go out and explore the world because she had never had the chance to do so.  She was never well off she said, but she knew that someday I’d be able to do all the things I wanted.  She told me that sometimes life isn’t fair and we cannot have everything we want at that moment, but it will come to us eventually.  At the time I thought she was just being depressing, but that conversation has stayed with me to this day whenever I come across something that brings me down.

No matter the events that happened between our families, my grandmother loved me.  She loved me with patience, tough love, and honesty that I’ve never had from anyone else.  She was my rock when I was younger, and still somewhere keeping me grounded to this day.

I’d be lying if I said that the fact that she passed this week five years ago had nothing to do with this month’s part of my happiness project being to do the things that make me happy, not the things I feel like I should be doing.  For so long I’ve had this vision of who I should be, instead of who I am.  Yet no matter who I was or who I wanted to be, she still loved me.  I want to say that I have that same undying love for myself, that no circumstance can break.

She was quite the lady, and I can only hope that I can keep her love and spunk alive in myself.