Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Good day today. The cold weather makes me sad though. I miss playing outside. I miss the sun already. And fall has only just begun. At least six months of cold are on the way. Half a year. No fun at all.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Want is such an insufficient word

So today was the first time in my life I felt compelled to ask a man for his phone number. I was at work so I decided that was probably a bad idea, but I wanted to very much.

The slowness of my Internet is really starting to bother me! I can't post YouTube videos. I can't even watch YouTube videos most of the time. Half the time I can barely check my email. Its horrible. I'm so dependent!

Also, I like the way the guy at the smoothie place came out of the back room to tell the lady that I ordered my drink from that I wanted splenda. Its not like I would forget to order it or that she wouldn't understand. I think he just came out there so I would know that he knew. Isn't that special?

And I'm a little sad tonight because I missed phone calls from my dear friend and it would have been awesome to talk to her because she always makes me feel connected to something and understood. But I was out with a friend, which was also nice because I don't like spending much time alone. Now I'm sitting here knowing that she is asleep and I just want to talk with someone. I want to listen to what they think and feel and care about until they run out of things to say and then I'll do the same. We would find the parts that we shared and build on them until they were places we could rest. And we would find the places we are fundamentally different and explain ourselves and draw word-pictures until there were bridges of understanding between us. And at the end we would feel less alone. Less part of just one body and more part of the bigger body of US. But I'm alone. (And cold.)

I didn't think 23 would look like this.
I had so many plans. Plans that grew and changed and crumbled. Plans that replaced other plans. But in all of them I was further along than this. Further along on my list of life goals. Get a "real" job. Get to my goal weight. Move out. Travel. Meet my Person. Get married. Other stuff.

But then there are goals I have reached. Some of them are things I didn't initially plan for. Things I didn't dream of even two years ago: Graduate from college. Lose over 100lbs. Find self-confidence. Feel beautiful. Feel strong. Get my best friend back. And so many tiny, tiny things that mean so much: Feel comfortable in my own body. Learn how to stand my ground. Just dance. Try new things. Learn to love the sun. Take back to reigns from fear. Speak my mind.

But even with so many countless little changes, I did not think 23 would look like this. I'm ready to be more. So much more.

Yesterday I put the treadmill on 6.4 and just ran. That's fast for me. That's much faster than the 5.4 I usually run. It felt amazing. It hurt. I thought my lungs would not keep up with the demand for oxygen my muscles produced. I was nothing but breathing and heart beating and moving forward. I wonder if that's how it feels to not worry. If not worrying is only having something so important in your mind that you don't have time to worry. You just act. You just go. Because no part of me was concerned with flying off the treadmill. I didn't worry about whether or not I could keep going or how much it would hurt later. I just pushed off the ground with each step. I just tried to fill that secret place in the bottom of my lungs with more precious, precious air.

I want and worry and plan. I am impatient and selfish and disappointed. And I've never been so happy and content in my life. Will I one day hold all those things in my hands that I've wanted for so long and then wish for nothing more? Or will I forever stand on the peak of one mountain only to search for the next tallest one I can conquer?

I could tell you what I want most, but that's obvious by now. I could tell you what I fear, but that too is plain.

So I'll say that no matter how many times I write it, I think of it more. No matter how much passion I convey by the careful placing of the right words in the right order, it is never quite sufficient enough to translate this feeling that weighs down my chest and crawls over my skin. Want is such an insufficient word.

Pajamas sounds funny if you say it enough.

My favorite pajamas have flamingos on them. They are black capris and a tank top with pink lace along the edges. Thats not why they are my favorite pajamas. Unlike all my other pajamas, these don't grow. My striped pajama pants will fit just fine until I sit down and stand up again. Then, there is this great, sagging area where my butt isn't. Soon, the legs grow two sizes larger until the only thing actually keeping my pajamas on is the elastic waist band. My favorite pajamas don't do this.

I used to want to hide in my clothes. The less they touched me, the better. But now I'm okay with clothes that fit correctly. And swimming in pajama pants is awfully uncomfortable. Especially on the occasion when I sleep in them. I toss and turn and my pajamas usually stick to the sheets so that they are nearly wrapped around backwards on my body when I try to climb out of bed.

So my favorite pajamas make me just a little uncomfortable around other people because the top is low-cut enough to reveal the area of my chest not yet covered in freckles because it does not see the sun. And the shirt comes up in the back to reveal an equally un-freckled swath of skin. But if I'm around other people in my pajamas, that usually means I'm going to be sleeping near other people, in my pajamas. So my flamingos go with me.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

I wonder if dreams mean anything?

Last night I dreamed I went on road trip with three of my friends and also a girl who my sleeping brain made up. In my dream, she was a friend of one of my friends and I was just getting to know her. That's good, I suppose, because it would be really weird if I had a dream about a person I called a friend but didn't actually know.

Anyway. . .

So part of the road trip involved three of us going spelunking into a cave made entirely of little rocks pressed tightly together. They were so beautiful, all made of different colors and textures. Pretty and clean and smooth. I don't remember walking into the cave, I just remember walking over to this door in the wall that led out into just a massive nothing. From the door, the chamber led up, up, up and eventually closed somewhere so that the top faded into darkness. And the opposite side was shadowed too. The bottom could not be guessed at. It was just a doorway to a giant nothing. And before the doorway was a "rope" made up of linked paper clips. And I started climbing down.

My waking self knows that I could not climb even a regular rope. My arms aren't strong enough for that. But my sleeping self didn't know this. And the slick metal of the paper clips only bothered me as I got closer to the end of the rope. The sharp points of the ends started digging into my skin. The mystery girl joined me on the paper clip rope and our mutual friend came after her. I began to worry that these tiny pieces of metal could not possibly support us. And wherever the rope was anchored, it was probably only wedged between some of the small rocks that together made the cave. Surely the twists and bends would start to untwist and unbend. Or my sweaty hands would falter on my fragile lifeline.

And he urged us on. Pushed and climbed and demanded until I was at the last link. Hanging by one paper clip alone. My feet had no rope to grasp as I hung over the abyss. And I didn't worry about my arms being strong enough to hold me there. I didn't worry about my ability to pull myself back up again. I just wondered at the strength of the rope. And could my climbing partners now climb back up. Well I knew he could, but what about this mystery girl? If she could not make it, I could not climb over her. She had to do it. She did.

He was the first to reach the doorway again and shouted in triumph at what we had done. And she too started celebrating before she even reached the safety of the exit. But I noticed the rocks trembling with their voices. Tiny pieces falling off, rolling down the walls. And now where those pieces were missing, the surrounding rocks were free to move a bit more. And the falling pieces were larger still.

Now my rope is swinging and she is just over the edge. They both know now. They can see. Finally, I grasp onto the edge of the doorway that is now gravel in my hands. The place is collapsing and I will not go down with it. I scramble. I reach. I am finally out of the blackness. They are running and I try to slam the door but it will not close.The whole thing has lost its shape. I hear the sound now like a waterfall of rocks. In my mind the chamber will fill and pour out of the collapsing doorway. A wave of pebbles and rocks will chase us through the cave system.

We climb up stairs slickened with cave water. We run around corners and cling to jagged walls. The sound grows behind us until it is almost certain that we will never make it. But the next corner promises sunshine and we emerge from the darkness, still running. The wave cannot reach us here but we run now from the fear of it.

All those little pieces. Not one of them big enough to do us any harm. But then they all came crashing down together.

I like me. You should too.

Sickness! But lets not talk about unpleasant things.
So today involved:

two Smoothies
Mexican food
a girly movie
fun text messages
time with my dear, dear friend
the book of questions
a long, long, long nap
feeling pretty
chocolate chip cookie making
good music
missing people
nice strangers

These things did not happen, but I hope one day they will:

a miraculous healing
declarations of love
something haunted
roller coasters
sliding across the floor in socks
the sun on my skin
something active
a long drive with no specific destination
a happy surprise
five hugs

I knew I was starting to feel a little better tonight when I found myself singing. Because this morning I didn't even want to talk or smile and that was sort of part of my job. I drove in my car listening to songs I love to sing and thought only of how much I wished I was in my bed. And then after work, I did that until I didn't want to anymore. And then I wanted people.

So Ashley came over and was my people. Even though I wasn't particularly exciting tonight and I had/have those blue smudges under my eyes and my voice is like an octave lower and I make sniffle sniffle noises every so often. She came anyway.

And now its an acceptable time to go to bed and I am tired, despite my excessive amounts of sleep and I still feel like there is construction going on inside my head but I wanted to write. Thing is, I didn't spend any time beforehand, as I usually do, thinking of what I would actually write about. Oops.

I know! I talked with Ashley about this, but I'll tell you too.

I remember thinking, way back when I was still hugely fat, that if someone just took the time to get to know me, they would have to love me. I though that, despite anything wrong with my body, there were things about me worth loving. Things that were obvious and important and good.

And then slowly a change occurred. I'm not going to talk about why, but along the way I started doubting even the girl inside. Now, I see this new face in the mirror and most of the time I am pleased. It still surprises me in ways I can't quite convey, but its usually a good surprise. There I am. That is what I worked so hard for.

There are new things I learned to be too. Things I never was before. Good things. I am adventurous and strong. I am persistent and confident.

But these things don't do anything to dispel the worries I now harbor. I don't know why I let it happen, but I started feeling insecure about the girl inside and I hate that. I worry that I'm not interesting or captivating enough to deserve attention. Like someone would give me the initial attention that you give new people that you meet and then quickly realize that I am not very interesting and move on.

I am the broth in chicken noodle soup. Warm. Comforting. Safe. But not very exciting.

It makes me want to keep my mouth shut so no one actually knows that all the things I would say are boring, typical, mundane things anyway. Perhaps my silence will add an element of mystery? I am a picture frame. I am the legs to the table. I am here for support and not contemplation.

Its not true though.

I know this. But sometimes when you get enough affirmation, even when the affirmation is of a lie, you start to believe it. I learned to believe these lies.
No more.

We were at chipotle the other day and the guy putting the rice in my bowl reacted to me in the most pleasant way. He said I made him smile because I was smiling so much. And the thing is, it happens all the time. When I'm not even trying. I don't mean to do it to people. And I'm surprised each time it happens too because I don't expect strangers to notice me. Especially not notice me enough to make comments about it.

And people ask me to tell them stories. They come over and talk to me. My friends. My co-workers. They care what I have to say. They are interested. I know this.

I was driving around all by myself yesterday. I had plans to get drinks with some acquaintances but I cancelled. I was feeling sick and it was the kind of sick that made me grumpy and quiet when I knew that getting drinks (which would actually involve me watching other people drink) would require a lot more talking and enthusiasm than I was capable of giving. So I drove. And in my driving I stopped at a gas station to use the restroom. Before that, I was having quite a good time with myself. I was singing and thinking and the car was the perfect temperature with the heat on my feet and the windows open. I thought about that man at chipotle and the one at the smoothie place. I thought about my friends. I thought about all kinds of things. And as I walked in front of the bathroom mirror to wash my hands, I had one of those surprised moments as I saw my face in the mirror.

This was a long and complicated, winding path I just took you on but the point is this: I like me.

I like me because I work hard to be the best version of me I can be, whatever that may be according to my morals and standards at the time. I have all kinds of flaws, just like everyone else, but I am worth knowing. I am worth being friends with.

I am lovable.

I didn't see that. And I think lots of us forget about that. We make it a shameful thing to feel good about oneself. That is conceited. That is selfish. That is vain. But then we aren't allowed the opposite either. Don't be insecure. Don't be needy. Don't hate yourself. We are walking on the edge of a knife. Which way should we fall?

But I am taking the power back. It is mine. It is not my job to make people like me. I don't have to make other people happy. It is my job to be truly, honestly me and give other people the opportunity to get to know me, to accept that. It is my job to create a safe environment for other people to do the same. Maybe together we can become something better than we are. Maybe we'll hate each other. Shouldn't we try?

So this is me. I have beautiful parts. There are things about me that will have you wanting more. And I have ugly parts. Parts that may disappoint, anger, or disgust you. There are things about me that you may not want to encounter again. And those things in between. We may have things in common, good or bad, that make you feel a kinship with me. Things we can build a mutual foundation from. But it is all me. And I, more than anyone else, am intimately aware of just how awful and just how awesome I can be. And I like me. You should too.

If not, perhaps you should move on an not waste anymore time with me. I don't know how to be anyone else. And honestly, I don't want to be. There are all kinds of people in this world. I'm sure you'll find plenty out there you do like.

Its late. I'm still sick. But I feel really good. Finally. Maybe I did get my miraculous healing.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Things you don't say at Chipotle:

Today Jeremy asked me if I would give up on joining the Air Force if he didn’t join the Army. I stuttered. I evaded. Then I told him we would have to talk about that later. He said he only asked me because he knew I would say no. Thing is, it kind of felt like a test.

I don’t want him to go. With more feeling than I could say, I don’t want him to go. He is my best guy friend. He is my several days a week. He is what I look forward to and what I worry about at the same time. And I love him. Of course I don’t want him to go. And I’ve told him that. But I don’t want to ask him not to go. If that’s what makes him happy, that is what I want for him. Because, despite how terribly I would miss my friend, it would be worse to see his dreams unfulfilled. It would be worse to see him unhappy. I just wish he would find something that would make him happy right here near me. Where I can still see him all the time. I don’t want him to go.

And then how hypocritical of me is it to say that I won’t promise not to go? It may not matter to him. I may care more for him than he does for me. He was probably just picking at me, but now I’m thinking about it, which means I want to write about it.

So many relationships I have seen come and go. Things I thought would never end, could never even be questioned, fell like sand through my fingers. Like holding onto ice. And now I fear to care too much, because how could this friendship last? How long will the threads hold?

Soon enough, one of us is going to start dating someone. In all likelihood, that would probably be him. And then that means that one of us is going to have someone else claiming our free time. Much more of it. And the person dating a person will want that, of course. But that means we won’t spend several days a week together. And slowly, we won’t be the kind of friends we are now. We couldn’t be, I think, not forever.

And I shouldn’t worry about that time to come. It doesn’t matter yet. Not today. I can only hold onto and appreciate the days and hours and minutes we have now. That is all we ever have anyway. It doesn’t matter today.

He already made fun of me for wanting things I can’t have. And that hurt. More than I let my face show anyway. It made me want to put up guards and walls and protect my heart in ways I didn’t know I had to do. Because I was trying not to want anything. I didn’t expect or hope for anything more from him than he already gives. I’m not stupid. I’m not blind. I know what isn’t mine to have. And I don’t want what isn’t freely given anyway.

So if I say, “Jeremy, I would give up on the Air Force if you would stay out of the Army,” two things happen: first, I put myself into that position where one day he leaves me anyway. Not for some army base. Not physically. But he just wouldn’t be there anymore. Not like he is now. I’m selfish and one day there will be so much less of his time for me. For whatever reason it may be. Then he won’t be that chunk of my life anymore. And then I wouldn’t be going to the Air Force. That would suck. Or even, conversely, I might meet someone. And I’m going to want to give him all kinds of time and attention. (And he’ll like it, damn it!) And, again, I wouldn’t be spending so much time with Jeremy. And then he is not in the Army because we made a deal? I don’t want that responsibility. Not for my friend.

And second, it would give him a new power over me. What does it mean to say to a person, “I give up my future dreams for you?” That says more than, “You are my friend and I love you.” Or even, “I have feelings for you.” That’s like, “You are more important than my dreams.” And I can’t say that at all. I’ve already said too much. It was hard enough to say what I’ve already said.

I can’t say those words, even in jest, to someone who hasn’t offered me the hope of an alternative future.

And this is all stuff a person can’t say in the middle of Chipotle over slowing warming Diet Coke/Pibb Extra. Not when he is grinning like a joke and I’m feeling serious.

It doesn’t matter anyway though. I have to lose 46 more pounds and that’s going to take much longer than I would like. Much, much longer by the way things are going. 6 months? And who knows what that will bring? All kinds of futures lay out there at the ends of all my decisions. Like so many tree branches with endless, endless leaves.

One day, there will be a person that replaces the “my” in “my future” with “our.” Then, and only then, should I start changing my goals and ambitions for another person. We would be a team then, making concessions for one another. Honestly, there are probably many concessions I would make WITH (and not just FOR) my Person.

For the Person that says, “Yes, I like you too.” For the Person that wants to claim my free time and personal space. For the Person that learns to love me. That slowly relinquishes and claims ownership until I am his and he is mine. For the Person who decides that he enjoys my company most of out everyone else he knows. And he wouldn’t call me his whole world, or his other half, or someone he cannot live without. No, he would say that he is healthy whole and happy all by himself, but it will make him infinitely happier if I would be his partner for the rest of the journey. Until we both turn into wrinkled up old versions of ourselves. Until the color fades from our hair and skin and voice and all we have left is memory and a will to wake up another day. For that Person, I would change my future goals.

But I am just a young woman with romantic dreams. Waiting for a man whose name and face and voice are foreign to me. For out of all those teenage “crushes” and now the adult “feelings”, I have never once known what it feels like to be wanted in return. To be reciprocated. I imagine it’s a heady feeling.

I’ll let you know when I find out.

For now, I’m going to work on joining the Air Force as best I can. Because I sure love my friend Jeremy, but he wasn’t really asking me to give it up anyway. And I’m sure he didn’t want to hear all of this either.

One would think, after all this practice, I would have learned patience. I’ve been busy learning other lessons, I suppose.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

If you had been there, we would have talked the whole time.

I went on a bike ride today. Its been too long since I've done that. It took me about two hours and that was two hours of thinking about stuff. As if I don't spend enough time just thinking about stuff anyway. It probably comes to a point where I should just stop thinking so much and just act in whatever way feels best at the time. Thinking and worrying and wondering is just too complicated. And what does it accomplish, in the end?

More speed, less control. Right?

Nevertheless, two hours alone and I was thinking. I didn't come to any interesting conclusions. None that I'm willing to share here anyway. I can only say so much. And I can only say it so often.

I thought about relationships. All kinds of them. Where they started and how they grew and even sometimes, how they unraveled. It amazes me that some relationships just keep on living. Years and years across time and distance. And others just die. Suddenly. With no warning. After only months. After years. Or they kind of dry up like puddles in the sun.

Sometimes it hurts. It hurts in ways I didn't know I could hurt. And the pain continues like a scar that just never healed right. Rarely, these things just dissolve on their own. Whatever we were doing for each other just naturally ends. And even then there is some regret or sorrow or just a small emptiness where that person used to be.

We just keep doing it! Forming new relationships before the pain of the last even fades. How can we, remembering how much it hurts, reach out to another person? Do we somehow hope for a better end? Are we all masochist? Or is the pain of failed relationships less than the pain of loneliness? There are probably even more complicated motivations I don't even see.

It doesn't matter how much I talk or think about it or how many people I discuss it with; relationships are complicated and scary and wonderful and confusing and exciting and hard.

And I haven't even dated anyone yet. I'm sure THOSE kinds of relationships have a level all their own. There sure are enough books and movies about it.

For now, I shall continue to stumble my way through life and try to love who I can and hurt as few people as possible and maybe one day find the kind of relationship that doesn't unravel. The kind that makes all my fatuous hopes worth while.

One of those things where my fingers say words my mouth never ever would:

I find myself skipping songs that remind me of you. Though I miss you, I know that what I really miss is what we were together. Sometimes it seems that you aren't the person you used to be. I don't know if I was looking at you and never seeing who you truly were, or if perhaps, like me, you've changed too. Or it might be a little of both.

And the things we don't talk about pile up between us until I can scarcely see your face anymore. Every word is measured so that I don't say the wrong thing. And the words I can't say are rocks in my mouth, pinning my tongue in place. Forcing me into silence.

I made mistakes. There are things I've done wrong that I don't even know how to apologize for. I hurt you. And there are things you've done to me too. I don't know if you are even aware of them. How would I tell you? What good would that do anyway? Would you feel remorse like me? Could I move on without ever having the answers?

Beyond all of this is the fear that even if I tried, we could never pick up where we left off. I don't want to be that girl I was anymore. I wonder if you would love this person I am now? Would it not work anyway? Or worse, would I start changing back into that creature I have abandoned? I may not like who you are now either. What would happen? Questions.

I'm not even sure what happened anymore. I remember feeling like letting go long before the schism. Suddenly you weren't there and I wasn't reaching for you. And then you tried and I killed the only thing we had left together. The one thing that we always shared. My fault.


Now I look back with gratefulness at everything good you taught me to be. And I miss everything beautiful and right about you. But I am full of misgivings. All these questions.

I am unwilling to speak about things past. I have no hope for a good conversation there. And I am unwilling to spill these rocks from my mouth.

How then, should I proceed? For now, I just keep skipping the songs that remind me of you.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

You make me laugh.

I was just appreciating how friends can make you laugh, even when they aren't with you.

The late night decision to post a conversation of facebook.
The picture of my chest on the iphone at Best Buy.
Scaring the lady at Chick-fil-a.
And startling the Coldstone people with shouted commands.
Saying inappropriate things in the gym as strangers pass by.
Milkshake coming out of my nose at Steak and Shake.
Made-up songs about whatever it is you are doing at the time.
Silly impromptu dances.
You telling me how awful I am and I laugh.
Talking on the phone in bed until we aren't making much sense anymore.

And so many other countless things that assault me when my mind wanders back to you. Thanks for that.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

I'm grumpy!

Moving on. I shall focus on the good things:

The man at the smoothie place remembered my preference for splenda. I was impressed.
Donatos is good. I never knew.
The weather was so very perfect today.
I got to spend hours with two people I love tonight.
I got to wear my pencil skirt today!
Jeremy drove aggressive-like. I always like that.
My laundry and my room are both clean.
No screaming tonight.
I'm going to read my book in just a few minutes.
And then I'll sleep in my lovely, lovely bed.

There sits my bed, calling my name in a silent, sweet seduction.

Just now was the first time I have walked into this bedroom and it felt like my room. A safe place. Like the walls would keep the world out for a little while. Not just paint and a rug and furniture but now a place where I can be the most me. My room. How long have we lived here? How long did that take?

I feel really good. Not happy exactly because that's more of a flame that burns bright and hot and doesn't usually last long when I'm alone. This is contentment. Or satisfaction. Fulfillment. Yes, there are things wrong with my life, even at this very moment, but I don't care about those just now. Like Micheal Buble, I'm feeling good.

Breakfast with my co-workers turned out nice. I work with 12 people and there were only four of us that actually showed up, but I expected that. Robbie was almost on time and Megan was about ten minutes late and PJ was a whole 45 minutes late, but I expected all of that too. It was actually amusing because he was texting me the whole time he drove to work. (I know, that's dangerous.) We offered to order his food for him and he wanted us to choose. That was fun. He said we chose well. Score.

And then afterwards I went to Java Johnny's with Megan and we curled up on opposite ends of the leather couch and cradled our mugs of hot chocolate (mine with peppermint) and talked about all kinds of stuff.

Breakfast is my favorite meal to share with people. Its like starting the day off nice. I can carry around the satisfaction of it all day long.

And before breakfast, I texted Jeremy when I woke up, not really expecting a reply that ridiculously early in the morning, but he did. And that made me happier.

Oh! And last night Ashley called me and even though she is about 1000 miles away, we watched Pride and Prejudice together. (Okay, hit play on 3-2-1!) That was a two hour phone call. (Thank goodness for free nights and weekends!) It almost felt like we were in the same room and no distance separated us. And no time either. We even talked about how awful we are to each other (me more than her, honestly) and somehow we keep being friends.

I think the thing that makes me feel the safest with her is knowing that she has seen everything ugly I can be and still loves me. And I've seen her unpretty parts too and I love her regardless. I think I have a messed-up definition of love because I always need the flaws in there too. I just can't paint over them and pretend they aren't there. I want them out in the open and acknowledged and accepted. Here I am, horrible parts and all, no surprises. Do you want me still?

This seems to be doubly difficult for me because it takes me forever to see whats wrong with people. Not just whats wrong in general, but maybe the parts that are going to get on my nerves or hurt me or become hard to handle. I can see my faults like the rim of my glasses, always there in front of me even though they do often become part of the picture. But other people I just can't figure out. Many times I don't see till someone tells me. And usually even then I deny these supposed flaws until I can compare them with real experiences. I don't know how to make myself see though. I'm paying a lot of attention but I guess I'm not doing any critical thinking. Just experiencing.

I just realized that I am very, very sleepy. I'll take a nap. And I'll feel guilty about this nap because Jeremy got up even earlier and can't take a nap. He is probably bagging bread while hunched over a table that is too short. And also, I should probably do something active. But I'm sleepy and there will be dancing tonight. Hopefully.

Did I tell you I feel good? I know I told you. Its just that yesterday was so so nice and today started off good too. There isn't even anyone at home to bother me. I went to the gym yesterday morning and saw Ashley. And work wasn't horrible. And then I saw Jeremy after work and he drove fast and made me laugh and told me stories and bought me dinner and sang. And then I had a dance party in my bedroom with Kiersten who decided she liked me last night. And she was clean. Like, still wet from the bath. And she was talking and laughing and hugging me. And then she went away before I got tired of her. And Ashley called me. And you know about that part. So I got time will all kinds of people that I love (even little ones that I love but don't like very much) and that makes me happier.

It looks strange that I said I saw Ashley at the gym and that Ashley lives 1000 miles away. Multiple Ashley's DO make things interesting.

I said I was taking a nap!
I think I figured it out. But then, maybe I'll feel confused about it again tomorrow.

Thursday, September 17, 2009


I think I would be okay if I never had to listen to another night of screaming. Why they screaming? Haven't they yet figured out that this is not an effective problem solving method? Goodness.

That's not why I'm here. Ashley will be here soon to take me away.

So today at work (when there were no customers (imagine that!)) we talked about sex. Obviously I didn't have much to contribute to the conversation. It actually surprised me that the subject even came up, that everyone felt comfortable enough with one another to talk about it. One of the girls told me she had a story to tell me if I didn't mind too much personal information. She said she knew I wouldn't judge her. And then it grew from there.

I'm not the youngest one working there. Four of them are younger than me. But apparently I'm the least experienced of the group. I'm an anomaly I suppose. Most people my age have experienced quite a bit more, I would say. Its not to say that I've had opportunities and my strong will kept me pure. No. I did have religious beliefs there for a long while that would have prompted me to say no if the question were ever asked, but I never got to exercise that particular religious conviction. No one ever wanted me. Or maybe I put off disinterested signals myself. Either way, I never had a chance to decide anyway.

And now, still nothing of course. I suppose I could throw myself at random drunk strangers and something might possibly develop, but that is not what I want. I want it to be someone I absolutely love. Someone I trust. And I deserve that. And perhaps he will cherish my inexperience instead of see it as some kind of handicap. I would hope so.

I went on a, um, "date" thing with someone last month. Or longer ago than that? I don't know. Some guy I met on the Internet. He was touchy. We met at Starbucks and he grabbed my hand and held it on his leg. I told him it made me uncomfortable; I didn't know him. And it did. But it also made me want to have someone I do know and like to just claim my idle hands. I know this will happen one day but I never thought about the details until the hands touching me were wrong. I never thought about the little steps that get you from (incidentally, its really hard to write when people are screaming) not touching to sex. The little things.

When it was time to go, I went to hug him. He was leaning against his car door and he grabbed me by the hips and jerked me forward towards him. Again, uncomfortable. But again, part of me began wondering how it would feel to want to be that close to a person. And more importantly, for someone to want me that close that he would jerk me forward towards him. Not a stranger.

And he touched me like my body wasn't some gross thing to be avoided. Because, as much as I work to hide it, this is the current running under my thoughts as I cross and re-cross my legs. As I turn this way and that. Better now than before, but still not good enough.

I'm not just a virgin. I'm not just a girl who's never been kissed. I'm a girl who doesn't know all kinds of things. All those steps are foreign to me.

And then, just now, I started listing all those steps I had imagined. But it hurts too much. And it seem pathetic. And it makes me impatient. Okay, and nervous. I swear when these things start to happen, my heart is going to race and I won't have any idea what to do. But I'm sure it will be nice.

(Ahhhh! The yelling!)

But now Ashley is here to save me.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Text messaging has me wanting to stick smiley faces all over the place.

I had a customer today whose eyes pointed in different directions. It took me a moment, but I figured out which eye was looking at me and decided to ignore the other one. I looked back to my computer screen to type and when I return my gaze to him, the OTHER eye is now looking at me! I swear I couldn't keep up during the transaction.

And I went for what was supposed to be a run in the park and actually ended up being more of a speed walk. My throat burned when I ran so I decided to walk. But it was nice, especially when a song played with a faster tempo. I missed the feeling of the sun on my skin and the breeze in my hair. But I wanted someone else to be there with me. Of course, I usually want someone else to be there with me, wherever I am. I think I even told Ashley she could come over to my house and we could read together and ignore one another for chapters at a time. She informed me that we probably wouldn't get much reading done. And she is right.

When I took a shower this evening, I discovered I wasn't alone in there! A winged something-or-other was trying desperately to fly out the closed window and its occasional bounces on the fogged surface brought it closer and closer to my body. The only thing I had to defend myself was my loofah and water. And by the time I noticed it I was all covered in lather. Past the point where I could run from the shower. I swear I was covered in goosebumps as I tried to watch it and rotate under the spray at the same time. I just hate bugs.

Today I ate at Chipotle all by myself. And it was cold in there. I read Lord of the Rings and attempted to not get rice down my shirt. Apparently some people find that kind of thing unattractive. Then Ashley met me and we got smoothies at the good smoothie place and then perused Barnes and Noble for a long time before not buying anything. We spent a lot of time talking about past relationships and the things we learned from them. And then there are things we still don't understand. Maybe some things never make sense.

In communications class one time, we learned about this grid of four squares that represent all things known in a relationship. Things you know and things the other person knows.

Box 1: Things you both know about you.
Box 2: Things you know, but the other person does not know about you.
Box 3: Things the other person knows about you that you don't even know.
Box 4: Things neither one of you know about you.

Box 3 terrifies me.

See when I was called manipulative and immature, I took the time to do some introspection and see if perhaps that was a Box 3 thing. Maybe I've been manipulative and immature my whole life. And then I asked other people to try to check my findings. And finally I decided that no, I am not manipulative and immature. At least, not in the way I was accused. I am alarmingly honest and straightforward sometimes. I am stubborn and persistent sometimes. And I most certainly am silly sometimes. But I don't create secret plans or have hidden agendas in order to do whatever it is I might secretly plan to do. Honestly, that probably involves paying more attention than I usually do and probably some lying which I usually don't do.

I got off track.

So Box 3 terrifies me because I'm worried that there are things about me that I'm not even aware of. Awful things that I'm walking around with and am not even conscious enough of them to work on being better. Being particularly oblivious might exacerbate this problem. Stupid Box 3. Oh! But the other side of this could be: there might be wonderful, amazing things about me that I'm not aware of too! Right? Right?

I'm in one of those moods where I could make lists of reasons why I love people. I don't think that's the sort of thing a person should do very often though. But I want to do it! Mmkay, it will just be one list and it will be here and then I can just write "you" and "you" will be whoever it is I mean when I'm writing it.

Things I love about you. Or, reasons I love you:

Sometimes you visit me by surprise.
You used to leave me "I love you." notes so I would find them later when you weren't with me.
You just keep sticking around.
You keep calling me.
You make me laugh over the most ridiculous things.
You sing. Real songs and ones you make up as you go.
You make me want to be a better person.
Spending time with you feels like coming home should.
You understand things no one else possibly could.
And you listen even when you couldn't possibly understand.
You seem to know things I never told you.
And you share the same insecurities I do.
You challenge me.
You tell me what you think about things and how you feel and what happened to you today.
You make me wish interesting things would happen to me just so I could tell you about it.
We are different people now and we can still be friends.
You drive.
You are honest with me. Even when it might hurt. Even when we are going to disagree.
You give me your time.
Even though you are far away, we still grocery shop together.
You made me dance. And practice "sexy face" pictures. And talk about sex until it felt normal.
We made up all those stories together. Even if they will never get written.
You seem to see the good parts of me, even when I can't.
I want you to be happy. Even when I can't help you with that. Even when your happiness would mean sadness for me.
You laugh so easily.
So many new things in my life, I experienced with you.
I don't know what comes next, but I like that you don't either.
You make me feel seen. Noticed.
I know I'm oblivious to many things, but I see you.
Its been 11 years now and somehow, somehow you still love me.
We are close enough to admit that yes, we are sometimes jealous of one another. Sometimes so much it hurts.
If we sleep in the same room, it takes a lot longer to fall asleep because we just keep talking.
And I love the talking parts.
I feel comfortable touching you and being touched by you.
You taught me how to be a girly girl. Mostly.
You taught me how to feel confident.
Together, we are learning how to be us.
You forgive my faults. And I forgive yours.
You are just so interesting. I love to hear you talk. About anything at all. Well, almost anything.
You are intelligent and articulate.
I enjoy spending time with you, no matter what we are doing.
We've seen each other naked. No one screamed in horror.
We've been horrible to each other. And we got over it.
I don't always understand you, but I'm sure having fun trying to.
I don't think there is anything I haven't told you. Anything I wouldn't tell you.
And I would love to tell you everything, but that's going to take some time.
Being around you just makes me happier. Satisfied. I'm happy all by myself, but you make it better.
I didn't want to. You made me. It was SO worth it. I give you permission to do that again.
I don't even talk to you anymore, but no time or distance will take away the memories of what we were together. I can always love that.

My fingers hurt. So does my brain. And talking about how much I love people reminds me that I'm in my room alone. No fun. But I freakin, okay brace yourself, fucking love you people. I kind of want to erase that. I won't!

Just fine. Better than fine. Great.

I have had this blog for five years now. Five years! It seems strange to me that so many other things come and go in my life and I keep coming back to this. Sometimes, I forget about it for months and other times I'm here more than once a day, but five years and I'm still doing this.

Sometimes I say things that definitely are not interesting.
Many times I repeat myself.
Oftentimes I say things that are too personal to be on the Internet.

I have tried to keep paper journals or even just journals in Word, but they only last a couple of weeks at most. Once, I even had a journal to my future husband, where ever he might be. And then I give up on all of those. Because whether or not I'm saying boring things or repeating myself or getting too personal, it makes me feel better that I might be heard anyway.

I'm not a very private person. I can't even keep secrets for other people very well. But I find it infinitely better for me to talk about things I'm thinking and feeling in text. There isn't anyone sitting there, however patiently, watching me while I try to come up with the best adjective or metaphor that will somehow translate these feelings into appropriate words. The down side of this, of course, is that there is no response either. No immediate feedback. Which do I prefer, the safety of saying it in text, or the satisfaction of immediate feedback?

Ha. But then I learned that sometimes you say things to a person and get no feedback anyway. That's awkward.

I keep worrying about the future. And what good does that do? And then, before I wrote this post, I looked back at some old posts over the last five years just to see. What happened in 2007 that I wrote so little? Why did I write so incredibly much the first two years? So, I go look. And then some of the posts made me feel more nauseous than running did yesterday.

Like the ones about gastric bypass surgery. That was so awful. Just thinking about the whole experience makes me feel like a stupid, stupid fool. How could I put so much hope into one thing? How did I not know I was strong enough to do it alone? But mostly, how could I put SO MUCH hope into one thing?

And the ones about boys I liked. Particularly one. Now, I'm a girl/woman person and I think its inevitable that I'm going to like this or that person for awhile until I find my Person. And maybe even after there are people that catch your attention more than others. Who knows? But it makes me feel sick inside that I felt those things and I couldn't make it stop. I couldn't see.

I still haven't figured out if people change, or if I have an inability to see whats wrong with people until much, much later. I know I changed. I'm sure of that. But I see those posts about things I liked about the guy and I don't see those things anymore. They aren't there. And I well admit that I was ignoring everything wrong with him, but there are things now that weren't there before too. So maybe its both.

Eventually I did stop having feelings for him. Eventually being too long a time to feel such a way. I did begin to see that he and I wouldn't ever work together. It would never work. And we were just friends. Or so I thought. But then things blew up in an awful way earlier this year in a way I cannot forget. I cannot get over. I told him that I forgave him, because that's what I decided to do. He apologized sincerely. What else can a person do? But now its always there like a rock in my shoe. I can't forget. No one has ever called me such awful things before. And that hurt.

And now I'm just not willing to care so much again.
But sometimes I miss my friend. I miss the one he used to be or I thought he was and that person is just not there anymore. I look for him, and it's a waste.

How many times do we look for the people our friends used to be? This isn't the first time for me. And I wonder if anyone keeps looking for the other Sarah in my face?

And right now, I find myself once again having feelings for a friend. And it does scare me. Because I don't want to experience another disaster. And this time its not just a guy friend I have a crush on. He is my best friend. The one I could say anything to. (Well, after some thought, prodding, or incoherent stuttering.) And I don't want to ruin that. So I try to keep two separate compartments for my feelings. Haha.

It's time to go to work.

I'm going to try to stop worrying so much. Because, at least with him, its stupid to worry. Everything is always just fine. Better than fine. Great.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

All the things I don't have time to say:

So I thought about what I would write while I was in the shower. Then I thought some more while I picked out clothes and fixed my hair. My mind wandered over words as I put on my eyeshadow and mascara. And then I realized, I just don't have enough time to write about all of this.

I was going to write about how running made me feel like I might throw up this morning.

And about how romance novels are awful and wonderful at the same time.

I would mention that my dad told me he wants to move to Wyndemere apartments in Franklin and then tell you how I feel about that.

I would delve into deep analysis of the posture, facial expressions, words, and inflections my parents use when they ask me for something. How they always say, "We don't ask you for much..." or some such other thing designed to make me feel guilty should I refuse. I would go on to talk about how my real anger is that they usually only pay attention to me when they do want something. Usually.

I might mention how much I hate winter again. And then thank no one in particular for the glory of the sun.

My lips feel chapped.

I might have even gone on long enough to write about my favorite parts of yesterday and why.

I would have talked about all those people sitting alone, eating with one hand and playing with cell phone in the other. Completely unaware of each other. Or the people sitting in chairs at my work while they wait. The parents paying attention to a cell phone, the children to a hand-held video game of sometime. I might have mused over what that said about society.

And eventually I would have wished that maybe I didn't have to go to work. That instead I could walk around Cox Arboretum or M.U.M. woods or some other pretty place and talk with someone I love under the sunshine. We would just walk and talk and not worry about having to be somewhere or be rushed by the imminent setting of the sun. The day would be ours and we would set our worries aside for the time. Just for now.

But I can't really do all of that right now. I have to find a breakfast I can eat in ten minutes and pick out what I want for lunch. But maybe later. Or maybe later I won't need to write about any of it anyway.

For now, the sun IS, in fact, shining. And I feel good about me and my relationships and I believe that's a very important part of a woman's definition of happiness. Or at least that's what a book said one time and I believed it. What I mean is: I am absolutely and amazingly happy. Right now. All by myself.

I hope you feel the same way too.
So when I decided to get up early and go to the gym before work, I didn't grasp exactly how difficult that would be. But I'm going. Right now.

Monday, September 14, 2009

I see it now!

I realize that I am a repetitive creature. At least I write about the same things quite a bit. But I have two things to say about that. 1.) I think about the same things quite a bit and this blog is sort of my place to figure things out in words. And 2.) Its my blog and I'll write about whatever the hell I want to write about!

I just said "hell." Twice now.

Anyway I think a lot of people probably mull over the same things over and over again. They just don't record the evidence like I have here. But really it helps me to read back over things sometimes. I can see what hasn't changed, what never changes for me. And I can see the subtle changes, the inevitable changes, the surprising ones. It comforts me that no matter how much I may feel I lose myself in the process of "growing", I never lose the core of who I am. And its encouraging to see the old worries fall off my shoulders, even if new things take their place. Evidence of progress made.

Now I'm trying to think of something new to write about. Or at least something I haven't touched on in awhile.


So I don't really know about this whole God business. Apathy would best describe my position at the current time. Maybe curious apathy. I would like some definitive answers about what/who God really is, but I don't think I'll be getting those. And I'm tired of searching. And church people always, always upset me. So I just assume that he/it is out there and has the ability to take control whether or not he chooses to and that also maybe he loves me despite or maybe because of being able to see the terrifying real me.

But I don't know if there is a plan for me. Or if I could know what it is. Or if I'm carrying out the plan without knowing it anyway. The idea that maybe there is a plan to all of this makes me feel better. Because there have been days in my life where I thought maybe it would hurt less to just not have to exist anymore. Not that I wanted to die, but maybe that it would be better to be undone altogether and never have lived a day at all. But its been a long time since I've felt that way. What I mean to say is: I would feel better if I knew that those days were for a reason. They were the knots at the end of a row of stitches. They were loops resting against the needle.

I can take the events of my life and weave them into a story. I can make the pain and the light complement one another. Lessons learned. Progress made. But is that just me carrying out my human need for things to make sense? For things to have an order and a reason? A story? Or is it the glimmer of the thread God is weaving through my life? Maybe that is faith, seeing God where there is only hope and wonder.

I was thinking about all of this in the context of my relationship with my cousin Ashley. We talked about this, but now I want to write about it too. She was my best friend. I didn't think there was anything she didn't know or understand about me. No secret I couldn't tell her. And she understood because she was there. There aren't words for what I mean. I didn't have to explain it to her because she already knew. She knew things unspoken.

And then the schism.

Now we both did things to each other that we shouldn't have. Things that could easily go unforgiven for a lifetime. People divide over lesser things.

We weren't friends anymore. We didn't even speak. She was off becoming a different person and eventually, I did too. We did this separately, all alone. And I remember longing for her. For who she was rather, because I was disappointed each time I saw this person walking around claiming to be her. But then I stopped looking for my old friend in Ashely's face. Even later, I started changing the person behind my own face. Now, we weren't friends and the people we used to be no longer existed. Poof.

Suddenly now, I find in her a person who understands things unspoken. She is different, this woman I call Ashley. And I am different too. But now I see that these separate paths we have taken to get to this point have been wholly necessary in understanding one another now. For so many reasons, we could not have been friends over these last couple years. We both needed to do things and the only way for a long-term friendship to last through the changes taking place was a schism.

Because she lost weight before I did. And I never would have understood the changes taking place in her life. I would have been jealous. And how could she confide about the awful parts to me, the jealous one. I would have been jealous and angry. And then she, looking at me, would be daily reminded of all she hoped to leave behind. A constant reminder of the unhappiness that was obesity. Even if we had miraculously had surgery together, she got sick. And how then would it have been? Would I have gotten sick too? Who knows? Too many questions.

And then I didn't have surgery. I started weight loss by myself. Because I could see how much she gained even as I lost her. I could see how much happier she was. And I wanted that. No matter the cost. It was slower for me. So much work. And I'm not even finished yet. I was jealous. But now I'm glad I didn't take that path. I'm happy with where I've ended up. And it wouldn't have happened if she hadn't done it first.

I don't know if there is a plan or a destiny or just things turning out well. And I can't say that we would have hated each other if we stayed friends. But I do know that she knows intimately well how it feels to lose yourself in your own body. To feel separate from it and controlled by it in terrifying ways. I know she knows how it feels to feel completely alone in the changes. She understands about feeling not feminine and fat girl syndrome and about all kinds of things I can't even describe. And now we can talk about it. Now when we both are at or have been at the points where these things are part of our lives. Now that we've both been just wanting to talk about it with someone who understands.

So yes, we were both jerks to each other. But somehow, I don't even care. Those people, they aren't us anymore. And who she is now, I love that person. I loved who she was too, but I'm not expecting a return. I doubt I would be very good friends with who she was.

We can call it God or Fate or just my lovely need for story making, but I think it all worked out for the best. It hurt like hell sometimes, but now I see the beauty of it.

I'll try to translate this lesson into one my heart can carry and understand on those days when I get so frustrated and impatient and just jealous. Things happen in their own timing, without input from me. And maybe I can't see today why I must wait or why I must suffer, but if I'm patient and watch, I just might see it all come together in the end.

Or maybe God has no plan for me after all. I'll let you know at the close of my life, if I have enough warning. Perhaps my last words will be, "I see it now." How very, very romantic.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

I didn't do anything but read all day. I forgot how easy it is to get sucked into a story. But I also forgot how it feels to resurface and realize that I'VE DONE NOTHING BUT READ ALL DAY.

Now I feel guilty and the gym is closed and its getting dark outside. I'm thinking workout video in the living room?

And I'm lonely. I like seeing people. Everyday.

I can think of all kinds of things I could be doing right now, but I don't want to. I suppose procrastination is a key part of my character. Apathy is piling up like dirty laundry. And still I sit here.

Well, this sure isn't helping because, although you lovely people take the time to read the words I choose to string together, you aren't actually speaking back to me at the moment. So, I'll go find someone who will.

(I'll come back when I have something to say.)

Friday, September 11, 2009

Peace is my goal.

Mom and Dad are fighting. Dads been drinking, of course. I'm trying to retreat inside myself into just a couple hours ago when I was at Jeremy's house and no one was screaming or slamming doors. The only thing I had to worry about was my cold toes and maybe what Jeremy meant when he looked at me across the darkness.

My heart didn't race in fear of what might happen next as the footsteps echoed through the wood flooring into my own toes. No, I knew what would happen next then. The darkness inside me didn't bubble up to the surface like boiling water. It was dead then, a memory in a story of what its like when things aren't okay. But I was happy and safe and unconcerned just then. Not so long ago.

And I wasn't alone.

Not like now where the walls are too thin to keep the voices out. The light too weak to keep the shadows at bay. And the pleasant memories of mere hours ago nothing compared to the years of nights like these, crashing back down upon me until all I want to do is leave. Can't I just leave? I really, really want to leave.

But I'll think of earlier, if I can.

We sat on the deck in the shade and the breeze and talked with his mother while we ate homemade ice cream and I rearranged myself in the deck chair over and over again. He told his mother that its so easy to get me to back down. Just one word or a simple lean forward and I backpedal from the argument. He said I just get a look on my face of hurt and its worse than anything I could say. Makes a person want to fix it. But he doesn't know and how could I tell him then, how I hate arguing? I've seen the way it escalates into screaming. Throwing things. Hitting. Police. Tears. Fists through walls. Broken things. Words that can never be taken back.

So I don't like to argue. Is it important enough for me to risk going that way? No. No, I'll lose this one. Better to lose than to argue. I still win that way, if my goal is peace.

Now I know its only playful arguing that Jeremy would want from me. I'm not good at it. I would practice if that shut-down mechanism weren't so powerful. Back down. Back down. Back down.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here if I wasn't so alone. Just someone to hold my hand in the darkness. Someone else whose breath will seem loud in the silence between the screams. And we could hide under the covers and pretend that its only dark because we want it to be. The world is cold so that we can huddle closer. The way is a labyrinth so that we will always, always stick together, lest we should turn different directions and never see each other again.

But I'm here alone. And I'm just a little more damaged all the time.

But maybe the sun will shine tomorrow and I'll spend time with one of my friends and I'll forget how much I hate coming home to these parents. Until its time to come home.
So my dad knocks on my bedroom door and asks, "Do you have anything that would be good for a urinary tract infection?"

Umm. . . no?

Monday, September 07, 2009

I don't know why I think in metaphors.

Ummm. I'm in a funny mood. Spent way too much time alone today and it makes me want to talk. But it also brings out that person in me that wouldn't mind being alone for another day or two. But that person isn't a happy one. Not like the social me. So I've got to fix this tomorrow.

And staying at hope causes upsetting things to happen. Like Dad knocking on my door at midnight to ask for a razor to shave his head with. I told him absolutely not. If he wanted to shave his head he could wait until tomorrow and go buy his own razor. He wouldn't go away until I have him my razor. I told him I wanted the handle back and not the blade. Gross. And he promised he would bring it back. An hour later I go out to investigate because, does it take more than an hour to shave a head? And he has no idea what I'm talking about. "You want me to give you a razor? Chandra, did you have Sarah's razor? I would look in the bathroom if you need a razor, babe. Or maybe the kitchen. Whats wrong with you?" And they are both stumbling around and talking at each other and not listening to what the other one is saying. So, so high on something.

I finally found the razor and went back to my room but they keep making noises out there like they are banging things around or dropping things. And they keep yelling at each other from different parts of the house.

And everyone seemed just a little weird today. Or maybe I was weird. Jeremy said I was weird. I don't know whats going on. But the whole day was awful. Just awful. And what about tomorrow? I don't want another day like this one. Too much alone. Too much weirdness. And its hot in my room. And my bed feels all wrong. Its too warm. And I didn't do anything active today so I feel gross.

And I just wanted to talk to someone. About anything at all. About nothing. Just talk and talk until we both feel like someone understands a small part of us. But instead I read a book about faeries and wishes coming true in the most awful ways. And race issues in an upper-middle-class African-American California neighborhood. Strange book for a strange, strange day.

Wishes. I wish I could say whats on my mind all the time. That would be awful, wouldn't it? I just wonder if everyone else is walking around trying to construct the words in sentences that will best convey the most important parts of what they are thinking without upsetting the other person. Worry.

Worrying never helped anything at all, did it?

And it seems sometimes when I have a thing in my hands, I am too worried about when I'll lose it that I never actually enjoy having it. Never occurs to me until later that maybe when it is time to let it go, I'll be done holding it too. I never realize that sometimes the magic wears off right about the time I should be leaving anyway. No, I clutch it close to my chest and pray its never over.

I must be too emotional. Because I can sure make a list of the rational reasons I should or shouldn't do a thing. And then I run headlong into what I feel like doing, reasons or not. Sometimes, the right thing and the thing that feels best are the same thing. But only sometimes. Other times they are complete opposites like both sides of a magnet.

I've been feeling all kinds of awful about me lately. Like there must be a hundred thousand things wrong with me. And I'm sure there are. But not any more than before. Not any more than anyone else. So why am I walking around trying to hide behind this version of myself I think people might like best. Not good. Because then they only like the fake thing. And they don't know me. And then I resent them for not finding the real me I wouldn't allow them to see. So complicated, I know. This is how my brain works.

Apparently when I get really tired and I'm trying to focus, my head slowly drops further and further to the side until the deep angle starts to make my neck hurt.

I was just thinking about those shirts that come with all the glitter on them. So cute. And when you wear them the glitter ends up on your skin a little so that if the light catches your left wrist just right there is a sparkle of light. But then after a few washes the glitter wears off. And then, is it the same shirt under the glitter? Maybe this is a horrible analogy for what I mean, but it works for me.

Unlike my space bar. Which inexplicably refuses to work after only some of the words.

Yep. All emotion. All about how it feels now versus how it felt before and how it might feel tomorrow. What a horrible way to make decisions.

I know what I want. Or part of what I want. Its a part that hasn't changed no matter what else has. And I keep finding things that sort of match up. Almost right. But the important part is missing. I could fool myself and say every other part is perfect, who cares about this one, tiny little piece? But I care.

So I'll wait. Because I don't want almost right. I don't want wondering and hoping and waiting that it will magically turn into exactly right. So I'll wait . Because I deserve it.

And I've said nearly nothing that should make much sense. Sorry.

Saturday, September 05, 2009

Undiluted Sarah Jo = dangerous stuff.

I feel like I'm on a treadmill. I keep running and running. I feel really good about myself and the things I'm doing. My body is getting stronger. But I'm not going anywhere. I don't even know where I would go even if I knew how to climb off this metaphorical treadmill. Because when I'm in the moment I'm so very happy, but its when I step back and look at my progress that I get disappointed with myself. I'm not going anywhere.

Right now is one of those moments when I'm very, very happy. I don't want to ruin it by focusing on how awful I am. Though, I should be focusing on how amazing I am if I want other people to see that part of me. Humph.

Sometimes I wonder exactly how much I could say to him about whats going on in my head before he reacts badly. Because I've said more than I would have to any other guy. I've been more honest. More me, I mean. But then I still have that filter and I wonder what would happen if I turned the filter off for a little while. Maybe I should try. That would probably be stupid. And scary. Undiluted Sarah Jo might just make a person ill.

Talk, talk, talk.

Tonight I talked to my dad about my feelings. And boys. For hours. And he listened. And it seems like its been a long time since I felt safe enough to talk and talk and talk about the most unimportant, boring, repetitive things possible without worrying if the person was getting bored or thought I was stupid or any number of other horrible things. In other words, it has been a long time since I have spoken so freely without my insecurity occupying another seat in the room. It was very, very nice.

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

I'm like a shiny thing that catches your eye and then you realize its just sunshine reflecting off aluminum foil.

I'm pretty sure its dangerous and scary just how easily my moods are swayed. I would love love love to have the reigns back now. Please. Except I'm feeling pretty good right now.

I was going to write this particular blog about how awesome I am because I listened to that tarot card reading on tape again and the lady said I needed to start thinking positively about myself and my life and stop putting myself down so much. Now I absolutely do not believe that what she said was directly from "the angels" or whatever, but I think the advice is sound. I DO need to stop putting myself down. If I don't like me, who on earth will?

Because lately I've been seeing and desperately trying to hide these flaws of mine until I can't see anything else. I've been feeling awful about me. And I forgot that I used to like me. I used to really be happy with who I was. And I was sure other people saw it too. But Saturday Jeremy asked me why I was so defensive and I realized its because I'm thinking he must only see the bad in me. But that's not true. So, I've got to fix my perspective.

I am joyful. I think that's the first and most apparent part of my personality. Even on my bad days I seem to be generally happier than everyone else in the room. And I'm excellent at compartmentalizing. I don't let one bad thing ruin everything else. I choose joy and I'm very good at it. I see the positives.

I'm affirming. I really enjoy telling people just how much I like them. Problem is, this seems to be directly related to how I'm feeling and can therefore be either too little when compared to what they are used to, or maybe too much when I am particularly happy with a person. I'm afraid I'll be too much all the time. But that's not why I'm here. I am good at verbally expressing all the positive things I think/feel about a person.

I'm easy-going. I'm not strong willed or stubborn in most cases. I choose whatever seems to make the most people happy or what will keep the peace. I know this gets annoying when it seems I have no opinion but I honestly would rather see you happy than pick which restaurant we go to most of the time. If I really want something, I ask.

People keep telling me I'm "cute" or "adorable" lately and I'm not sure what that breaks down to, exactly, as I'm not doing it on purpose. However, this seems to be a positive thing when people say it so I'm adding it to my list.

I'm strong. And articulate. I have life experiences that have taught me lessons worth sharing. If I feel safe enough to talk to a person about it, they usually react positively to the way I can take a difficult situation and turn it into a learning experience.

This is making me feel really conceited. And uncomfortable. But I think I need to do it. So, to contradict whats happening here I'll tell you I'm usually humble. I don't care to boast about how smart or accomplished or wonderful I think I am unless I'm joking about it. I would much rather have someone notice without me telling them at all. I don't want to fish for compliments; I want them freely given. Plus, I don't like attention all that much except for one person at a time.

Sometimes I'm funny but that seems to be only around certain people. I don't know if they bring out qualities in me or if they just get my sense of humor. But I don't do that on purpose most of the time either. I'm not making jokes, I'm just being so blunt it makes people laugh.

I think that's it, kids. Shall I move on to the bad? I dunno if that would make me feel better at all. I'll list the bad things that are bothering me lately.

I'm selfish and self-centered. I realize I talk about me and whats going on in my life a lot more than I listen. I'm so sorry. And I pick me and what I want over what I should be doing for others sometimes. I could be doing so much more. I'm so completely oblivious to whats going on around me sometimes that I don't even know I hurt people with my lack of attention. Again, I'm sorry. I think I need things pointed out to me verbally, or in writing. I'm not going to realize otherwise.

And I don't think I'm interesting or captivating. I'm like a shiny thing that catches your eye and then you realize its just sunshine reflecting off aluminum foil. I don't know how to be flirty or witty or coy. I'm just honest and straightforward and simple. And I'm not sexy or beautiful or whatever the hell it is that attracts the opposite sex. I'm a little awkward and maybe bouncy but definitely not attractive.

And I'm all kinds of sensitive and emotional, though I pretend not to be. I need all kinds of verbal reassurance and I worry about things when they don't seem happy. I tend to run from situations that involve other people being upset about things because I don't know how to handle it or how to comfort them. Grief is always a private thing for me. I'm a horrible friend when it comes to negative situations. I'm a hermit crab quickly retreating into my shell.

This really is a bad, bad idea. I keep thinking of more awful things to say about me. I'm going to stop now! Totally ruined the point.

Goodnight my friends.