It's raining in Vancouver, surprise surprise.
I have been so extremely unmotivated lately. And exhausted. I suppose I could chalk this up to a lack of sleep; new relationships are exciting and between texting and visits and school and 6am starts at work, sleep has fallen by the wayside.
But even when I feel caught up and well rested my muscles struggle to simply hold my weight up. My eyes squint against the light of day. I wrestle to keep myself awake, let alone alert and functional. I can't bring myself to study. I don't run any more. I write relatively infrequently. Even climbing, which I used to be so passionate about (you'd be hard pressed to drag me out of the gym), seems too unfulfilling to haul myself out of bed for.
The things I used to seek solace in, don't provide solace any more.
I feel so disconnected from the world, but interestingly enough I feel even more disconnected from myself; a relatively new feeling I'm grappling to come to terms with. I'm losing sight of what I want longterm because I spend so much time focusing on those things that provide an immediate gain. I can't bring myself to do things I don't want to, even if it means ensuring a better future for myself, because I can't rationalize making myself miserable in the present.
This isn't to be confused with unhappiness; I'm beyond content with my life. But sometimes I feel like I'm just disguising this self-destructive path of laziness as a means of perpetuating that happiness. And the longer I stay on that path, the further away I get from that driven, successful woman I know I want to be. And the further away I get from her, the easier it becomes to justify doing absolutely nothing with my life until I fall into a downward spiral of self-loathing and disappointment.
I need to reevaluate my priorities.
I need to get my shit together.
December 1, 2012
November 29, 2012
Sometimes I write poetry.
I work my days for you, 'cause I love you. Boy, I don't want you, I need you. I can't see no other way.
It's what you spit out and not what you mean,
And it's what you see, not what's meant to be seen,
The people you touch, not the ones that you don't,
The looks that you give, sometimes the ones that you won't.
It's the sun overhead, and the grass underneath,
That moves like wild fire beneath your bare feet,
It's the stars when they shine, not the darkness you feel,
The music of traffic, and the embraces you steal.
It's your bed in the dawn, in the arms of a man,
The way you keep going, when it's more than you can stand.
It's the breeze and the leaves when they turn green to red,
How the snow falls to the earth, when the leaves are all dead.
It's the way life is uncertain, and not when you're sure,
And the places you'll go, not the debt you'll incur.
It's the times that you waver, and the times you stay strong,
It's the times that you're right, and even times that you're wrong.
It's the silence that rings in the dead of the night,
The blood in your ears that lets you know you're alright.
It's a whisper, a word, or a beckoning call,
Or a song, saving grace, in the heat of it all.
A million reasons to smile, a million reasons to not,
But this one beautiful life is all that you've got.
It's what you spit out and not what you mean,
And it's what you see, not what's meant to be seen,
The people you touch, not the ones that you don't,
The looks that you give, sometimes the ones that you won't.
It's the sun overhead, and the grass underneath,
That moves like wild fire beneath your bare feet,
It's the stars when they shine, not the darkness you feel,
The music of traffic, and the embraces you steal.
It's your bed in the dawn, in the arms of a man,
The way you keep going, when it's more than you can stand.
It's the breeze and the leaves when they turn green to red,
How the snow falls to the earth, when the leaves are all dead.
It's the way life is uncertain, and not when you're sure,
And the places you'll go, not the debt you'll incur.
It's the times that you waver, and the times you stay strong,
It's the times that you're right, and even times that you're wrong.
It's the silence that rings in the dead of the night,
The blood in your ears that lets you know you're alright.
It's a whisper, a word, or a beckoning call,
Or a song, saving grace, in the heat of it all.
A million reasons to smile, a million reasons to not,
But this one beautiful life is all that you've got.
November 28, 2012
Posts through the ages
I mean after two and a half years you begin to forget the whys and you're just left holding onto something because you'd feel empty without it. Maybe because it's really just easier to fall back into loving him then to move on and live life. Maybe it's just reliable or the way I feel when he's around. It used to be the way his lips curled when he smiled and the depth in his eyes... it used to be butterflies but now it's just familiar. I think I'm just so caught up in the chase that... that it doesn't matter if the destination is wrong for me, my legs just keep telling me I've got to keep running.
-March 10th, 2007 (17 year old me was so smart)
-March 10th, 2007 (17 year old me was so smart)
There’s nothing to write about anymore.
A few years ago tell me to write something and I would pretentiously go on for hours about the colour of the sky. Now the sky is… it’s just the sky. It’s beautiful and it’s simple and when I look at it I feel at peace . That’s all. I don’t feel small in comparison or lonely or isolated when I see how vast and open it is. I don’t feel anything but contentment, a mere satisfaction that I’m alive and the sun still shines and the snow still glistens under it.
Maybe the reason is because I've stopped caring. Things just happen. Good or bad, they happen and that’s it. I sit idly by while things materialize, transpire, flourish into greatness and wither away. Anything that happens in my life stops happening eventually, and everything's always in and out and changing too fast that I don't have the time to care about it all . So when great things die I don't feel an ounce of remorse because I do nothing to keep them around. At the same time I don’t feel resentment towards life when something bad happens…. Because just like good things, bad things stop happening too until it's all just nothing.
I do my best to stay at a distance, unattached, because everything always goes away whether I want it to or not. Boys will like me and eventually get bored. Friends will be made and unmade, or just drift away. People will pass in and out of my life and I’ve tried hard to hold on to the good ones but they all move on to bigger and better things. I’m so tired of trying to make things happen because if I want it to happen it won’t. So I accept things the way they are and let things just happen the way the world intends them to.
So I’m content.
I’m content because in my world everything is just as it should be.
I’m friends with everyone I need to be. They’ll leave eventually, everyone does, but the space will be filled with something new.
Everything I need in life I have. I don't have a car, or an ipod, but I can live without material possessions because I know that true happiness isn’t defined by them. I’m not defined by them. What matters are my actions, the relationships and bonds I manage to form, and my attitude towards life. That’s all; things aren’t going to make my life better, I can make it better simply by believing everything is okay, or it will be when all is said and done.
And with all of that I know I'll always be content because the prairie grass still glimmers in summer’s sunlight, and the snow still floats down to earth with such grace and such certainty that the ground is where it needs to be, it’s hard to be anything but grateful of life.
I’m grateful to be alive.
So I don't need to write 10 pages on the colours of the sky, I can just look up at it... and feel certain that life is just simply beautiful.
So I don't need to write 10 pages on the colours of the sky, I can just look up at it... and feel certain that life is just simply beautiful.
-November 29th, 2006
If I didn't love him before, I know that I do now.
Is that weird? Is that weird to love someone that you barely know?
Can you love somebody who doesn't love you back? Can you love somebody and not know why?
Why. Why.
Why. Why.
Why. Why.
Why. Why.
I want to be able to answer the question. My feelings are real, I don't have to defend them.
I need to know why. . I need to make sense of whatever this is so I can get over him. And if I can't get over him... well I will graciously except defeat and tell him. "I... hey... I love you.. And I know that you will never return the feelings, and I know that I will never let mine go... but I need you in my life. So please just... look at me? Look at me like you used to, Please!!"
He drives me crazy.
He won't even look at me.
I love him and he won't even look at me!
I LOVE HIM AND HE WON'T EVEN LOOK AT ME!
Is that weird? Is that weird to love someone that you barely know?
Can you love somebody who doesn't love you back? Can you love somebody and not know why?
Why. Why.
Why. Why.
Why. Why.
Why. Why.
I want to be able to answer the question. My feelings are real, I don't have to defend them.
I need to know why. . I need to make sense of whatever this is so I can get over him. And if I can't get over him... well I will graciously except defeat and tell him. "I... hey... I love you.. And I know that you will never return the feelings, and I know that I will never let mine go... but I need you in my life. So please just... look at me? Look at me like you used to, Please!!"
He drives me crazy.
He won't even look at me.
I love him and he won't even look at me!
I LOVE HIM AND HE WON'T EVEN LOOK AT ME!
-September 22nd 2006
I'm sort of a pig.
And my hooves hurt from dancing.
And I love you.
Still. I'll say it again.
I love you.
Because when I say it to the air... well at least I'm saying it.
And you'll love me back one day.
Well maybe not you. But somebody like you... and that will do.
For now I think I can be content alone.
And my hooves hurt from dancing.
And I love you.
Still. I'll say it again.
I love you.
Because when I say it to the air... well at least I'm saying it.
And you'll love me back one day.
Well maybe not you. But somebody like you... and that will do.
For now I think I can be content alone.
--September 19 2006
Ponder this and go inside, and when you think you've caught me at a lie, then come and tell me I'm not fit to prophecy.
I wish I were made of sugar plums.
--When did I write this and where did that first part come from? Oedipus Rex?
I was waiting for the 66 to suburbia when half inch plugs walk up attached to the earlobes of some tall dark and handsome. Then it hit me like a 200 lb bus battery.
I was really craving peanut butter and jam.
Potentially between two slices of rye bread, with a 60% chance of melted chocolate chips, and a definite possibility of a glass of skim milk.
Of course I haven't yet satisfied said craving, but oh well.
I was really craving peanut butter and jam.
Potentially between two slices of rye bread, with a 60% chance of melted chocolate chips, and a definite possibility of a glass of skim milk.
Of course I haven't yet satisfied said craving, but oh well.
-July 22nd, 2005
November 27, 2012
There's fear, sure.
And there's unknowing... okay, I get that.
But there's life.
There's a blue sky outside of my door.
There's yogurt for lunch. There are birds chirping and children playing.
And there may not be a meaning we can see.
But it's beautiful.
There may be people dying. Or crying. Or prying, lying, denying.
Or an insatiable hunger for power.
But then there's life.
There may be misery.
And fear, and want, and loneliness.
But there's laughter, and love, and hope.
There is faith, imagination, drive and ambition.
Patience and consideration.
There is unity between man.
Maybe we haven't found a reason.
Or a purpose. But we have found life. And if after everything the world has been through people are still smiling?
Well then it's worth it.
No voice is too small. Or weak.
And there is no such thing as just one person.
People are out there and living and if everybody thought that they were just one person....
There'd be a lot more people starving. Not just starving for food, but starving for something real.
Starving for somebody to just care about them.
So there are bad feelings in the world, and bad thoughts, and bad actions, bad people with even worse intentions...
But there are good. There are good intentions, and good actions done by people who decided that life is worth living even if the end is unforseeable.
Balance is not unjust.
It's natural to be scared, disappointed, angry, or sad.
But you put yourself out there and you live.
If you expect the worst, it'll happen.
You'll be miserable from the moment you started preparing for it to the moment it happens and the dwelling moments that preceed it.
If you stay positive, and keep smiling, there's nothing stopping the worst from happening but at least you gave it your all and had a good run.
Then you get back on your horse and you keep smiling and keep staying positive...
Things won't always go the way you want. Sometimes things may NEVER go the way you want.
But create something new for yourself and find the beauty in whatever happens.
Smile. Smile if only for the sake of smiling.
Because there may be no point in living... but there's even less point in dwelling about it.
--April 27th, 2007 (wiiiissse beyond my years)
And there's unknowing... okay, I get that.
But there's life.
There's a blue sky outside of my door.
There's yogurt for lunch. There are birds chirping and children playing.
And there may not be a meaning we can see.
But it's beautiful.
There may be people dying. Or crying. Or prying, lying, denying.
Or an insatiable hunger for power.
But then there's life.
There may be misery.
And fear, and want, and loneliness.
But there's laughter, and love, and hope.
There is faith, imagination, drive and ambition.
Patience and consideration.
There is unity between man.
Maybe we haven't found a reason.
Or a purpose. But we have found life. And if after everything the world has been through people are still smiling?
Well then it's worth it.
No voice is too small. Or weak.
And there is no such thing as just one person.
People are out there and living and if everybody thought that they were just one person....
There'd be a lot more people starving. Not just starving for food, but starving for something real.
Starving for somebody to just care about them.
So there are bad feelings in the world, and bad thoughts, and bad actions, bad people with even worse intentions...
But there are good. There are good intentions, and good actions done by people who decided that life is worth living even if the end is unforseeable.
Balance is not unjust.
It's natural to be scared, disappointed, angry, or sad.
But you put yourself out there and you live.
If you expect the worst, it'll happen.
You'll be miserable from the moment you started preparing for it to the moment it happens and the dwelling moments that preceed it.
If you stay positive, and keep smiling, there's nothing stopping the worst from happening but at least you gave it your all and had a good run.
Then you get back on your horse and you keep smiling and keep staying positive...
Things won't always go the way you want. Sometimes things may NEVER go the way you want.
But create something new for yourself and find the beauty in whatever happens.
Smile. Smile if only for the sake of smiling.
Because there may be no point in living... but there's even less point in dwelling about it.
--April 27th, 2007 (wiiiissse beyond my years)
July 19th, 2007
Calculate Precipitate
There's something to be said about,
the way some days words just run out.
Then he tilts his head to face me when he has nothing left to think.
He said "there's something to be said about,
the way you make me melt throughout.
You turn your head to face me, now there's nothing left to think"
Then I shudder.
And I stutter. Stomach Flutters. Words are muttered.
And yet silence still rings clear, rings in my ear, clear in my ear. Ring Ring.
There's something to be said all right,
I wake up sweating in his arms at night.
His eyes were pale, lifeless, deep, what more is there to dream?
I HEARD "there's something to be said, you're right,
a smile will help me sleep tonight.
Your eyes are like a sunset, so what more am I to dream?
Then I stagger.
And I stumble. Stomach rumbles. Words are mumbled.
And a pattern is mapped out, mapped in my doubt, out in my doubt. Out Out!
There's something to be thought or felt,
that's rarely ever about how you melt,
but more to do with comfort that I hadn't seen in years.
He said "there's something, always, to be felt,
your words, a touch, a moment dealt,
but it's more to do with comfort in which I think that you deserve."
In that, I don't think I deserve
Calculate Precipitate
There's something to be said about,
the way some days words just run out.
Then he tilts his head to face me when he has nothing left to think.
He said "there's something to be said about,
the way you make me melt throughout.
You turn your head to face me, now there's nothing left to think"
Then I shudder.
And I stutter. Stomach Flutters. Words are muttered.
And yet silence still rings clear, rings in my ear, clear in my ear. Ring Ring.
There's something to be said all right,
I wake up sweating in his arms at night.
His eyes were pale, lifeless, deep, what more is there to dream?
I HEARD "there's something to be said, you're right,
a smile will help me sleep tonight.
Your eyes are like a sunset, so what more am I to dream?
Then I stagger.
And I stumble. Stomach rumbles. Words are mumbled.
And a pattern is mapped out, mapped in my doubt, out in my doubt. Out Out!
There's something to be thought or felt,
that's rarely ever about how you melt,
but more to do with comfort that I hadn't seen in years.
He said "there's something, always, to be felt,
your words, a touch, a moment dealt,
but it's more to do with comfort in which I think that you deserve."
In that, I don't think I deserve
Our existence relies,
On this thin region in the stratosphere,
Highly concentrated as it is...
With ozone. That's three oxygen atoms for every molecule.
And a holiday in Athens relies
On these wispy little clouds at the top of the troposphere
And oddly enough the water vapour and carbon dioxide
That everybody seems to make such a fuss over.
Ocean circulation,
Is part of a much larger picture
A system of interconnected components
Working together for the stability of earth's system.
But you only feel the sea breeze,
Gently blowing on your face.
And that`s as good an answer as any.
The continents are moving
On average 1-15 cm/year
and will continue to move
Until they collide into each other
To form a new Pangea. And sometimes I wish I could be alive to see it all.
My life relies... my life relies
On you, this multi-cellular, heterotropic being
Highly concentrated as you are...
With love. Thats fifteen more heartbeats for every minute.
Thats my whole existence. That`s a reason.
That`s everything. Fifteen more heartbeats and a reason...
I may see the continents collide after all.
--October 20th, 2007
On this thin region in the stratosphere,
Highly concentrated as it is...
With ozone. That's three oxygen atoms for every molecule.
And a holiday in Athens relies
On these wispy little clouds at the top of the troposphere
And oddly enough the water vapour and carbon dioxide
That everybody seems to make such a fuss over.
Ocean circulation,
Is part of a much larger picture
A system of interconnected components
Working together for the stability of earth's system.
But you only feel the sea breeze,
Gently blowing on your face.
And that`s as good an answer as any.
The continents are moving
On average 1-15 cm/year
and will continue to move
Until they collide into each other
To form a new Pangea. And sometimes I wish I could be alive to see it all.
My life relies... my life relies
On you, this multi-cellular, heterotropic being
Highly concentrated as you are...
With love. Thats fifteen more heartbeats for every minute.
Thats my whole existence. That`s a reason.
That`s everything. Fifteen more heartbeats and a reason...
I may see the continents collide after all.
--October 20th, 2007
June bug.
Some months ago.
Someone came on the bus today who had no limbs. None. And so I am sitting there, riding the 99 B-Line to school, my bike strapped onto the front, feeling sorry for myself because the guy I like doesn’t like me back, and because I’m in a financial hole, and because I’ve gained ten pounds, and this guy, seemingly content and at peace with his fate, wheels onto the bus. And he doesn’t have any fucking limbs. At one point he was probably faced with the uncertainty of death. He probably clung to every fiber of his being, hoping that whatever took his limbs didn’t take his life. He persevered. And now, that smile drawn across his face when it has so many reasons not to, that smile reflects a strength of spirit and a depth of character that I can only dream of. Because here I am feeling sorry for myself because someone made fun of my outfit. And instead of making me feel better, instead of thinking "life's not so bad, at least I have all my limbs", the light in his tender eyes just mocks me. His polite smile a reminder that, every time I fall it gets harder and harder to get back up.
The truth is, I can't look on the bright side right now. The truth is, it just makes me feel worse that strong people like him are faced with such incredible suffering and are able to stay positive- when I buckle under the slightest of criticisms or vow to stop moving because I haven't had a boyfriend since the last one cheated on me. The TRUTH is, my friends and my family, my tiny kitten, the food in my fridge, the roof over my head, my four limbs that can climb up mountains and pedal my $1000 bike, my limbs that can run and jump and DANCE, they're just a constant reminder that right now I am a sad fucking person. I am a sad person sitting alone in my sad fucking apartment, feeling sorry for myself. How fucked up is that?
August 18, 2012
July 28, 2012
When was I 21?
Some years ago
I can't remember the last time I allowed myself to want something. Want is an emotion reserved for people who deserve to be happy.
I can't remember the last time I allowed myself to want something. Want is an emotion reserved for people who deserve to be happy.
I have spent the last 4 months stuck in a self-doubting coma, anticipating loss.
Why am I not enough? Why am I not worth it? Is there someone else? What does she have that I don't have?
So I'm 21. I'm 21 and I have spent the last 10 years telling myself that I will not have a future. I could never picture myself living past 25 years old. Everyday is a struggle, a new battle, and I could not imagine myself winning the war. Everyday is a new emotion and I thought that I was stronger. But I'm not and it is harder each time I fall down to get back up. And I felt like I would never overcome it. But I'm only 21, and I've worked hard up until now to get to this place. Wherever this place is. I will not let myself ruin it. I am not who I was 5 years ago. I'm not who I was a year ago, and I won't be the same person in another year because people grow. People love, people make mistakes, people hurt and get hurt. There's sadness and anger and love and happiness. And people learn somewhere in all of that.
AND SO I'M 21! I need to be able to tell myself that I deserve to be happy. And I need to learn to take care of myself so that I am in a better place to take care of others. And I need to realize that I still have a lot of growing up to do.
July 27, 2012
Lost Kitten
Dissociate yourself from ego, it has no business in love.
- Yoga master Colin.
Who are you and what are you doing here? Let's forget about the existentialism of it all and work through the literal.
Who am I?
Lisa
What am I doing here?
This is my house.
A week from now will mark 5 months of a no-Ryan life. The good news is I can finally think about him without a debilitating sadness washing through each of my muscles one by one. The bad news? I've replaced the emotion with one I am not entirely certain is any less self-destructive.
6 weeks ago I attempted to "get back out there". This wasn't because the options already available to me weren't good enough, but because I had spent the last 15 years stuck in the mindset that I wasn't enough, and one person's opinion just didn't provide the substantiation I needed. So, I registered on a dating website. Almost immediately my inbox was flooded with messages from eager singles wanting to get to know me. While I'll admit this stroked the ego that, for as long as I can remember, craved the attention from eligible bachelors- it was probably unfair to put myself out there when I wasn't ready to reap the results.
I'm alone still.
But for the first time in my 22 years of breathing, I think I am okay with that. Everything I've ever done in my life; every thought, every action, every decision I've made have all been rooted in my desire to please others and my crippling need to be loved by men. Because what did I have growing up? A physically absent and emotionally unavailable father whose impatience was rivalled only by his inability to look past appearances. Two brothers and a sister who, because of an age difference left me behind at every turn. A mother who worked herself to the bone to give my brother and me the childhood we deserved, but in doing so forgot what it was like to be a kid. And an entire school full of children, each dedicating their lives to making sure my days were filled with rejection, humiliation, and physical abuse.
This is how I spent my days. This is how I grew up; desperately trying to become the girl I thought people would like better and losing every part of the girl I was meant to be in the process. I had become so unrecognizable to myself; like a liquid with no definitive shape of her own. I had strayed so far from the strong and confident girl I knew I WANTED to be, that I let some self-absorbed, emotionally vapid, insensitive loser walk all over me and at the end of the day make ME out to be the bad guy.
Excuse me? When did I become a housewife? When did I become the sort of person who baked cookies, did laundry, rubbed feet, went grocery shopping, cooked dinner, wrote papers, made handmade gifts, smiled and nodded and let him be right, and got him off; sometimes without so much as a thank-you? When did I become the sort of person who tolerated an inattentive asshole who'd rather play video games than look at his naked girlfriend? And who deemed foreplay a "waste of his time"? And who after ALL of that, turned around and cheated on her with some blonde brazilian bimbo who didn't even speak English? Where in this relationship was Lisa and why was she so convinced that she was happy? Why was she convinced that her life was over after he left, and how come she was blaming herself when he turned around and cheated? Was I really designed this way?
So, after 3 months of wallowing in a whole lot of self-pity and even more self-doubt I got up, dusted myself off, and told myself that I was awesome. I may have not had any idea who that person was, and I may not have been entirely convinced that I was, indeed, awesome, but I knew that hidden beneath the insecurity and fear there was a substantial amount of good intention. That there was a smart, brave, thoughtful girl with the ability to smile and persevere. And so that's what I did. I persevered. I took up drawing, I started running again, I sang and wrote songs, I got a kitten, I started a new job and I worked hard to make a good first impression. I spoke my mind. I started going to yoga. I took up climbing and I realized with the right amount of determination anything is possible. Good things come to those who wait. The meek little girl melted away and found the confidence to do what she wanted even if it meant having to do it alone. And that same meek little girl found it in her to move on and put herself out there again. And, well, while I may be moving towards a dead end--at least it doesn't consume my whole world. And at least I'm out there.
So, here is what I know.
I know I am incredibly resilient.
I know I am funny, energetic, caring, considerate and smart.
I know I am good at a lot of things.
I know that what Ryan did does not reflect my ability to love and care for somebody.
I know that time heals all wounds.
And I know that I'm not perfect, but that I don't need to be. All I can do is be perfectly me.
- Yoga master Colin.
Who are you and what are you doing here? Let's forget about the existentialism of it all and work through the literal.
Who am I?
Lisa
What am I doing here?
This is my house.
A week from now will mark 5 months of a no-Ryan life. The good news is I can finally think about him without a debilitating sadness washing through each of my muscles one by one. The bad news? I've replaced the emotion with one I am not entirely certain is any less self-destructive.
6 weeks ago I attempted to "get back out there". This wasn't because the options already available to me weren't good enough, but because I had spent the last 15 years stuck in the mindset that I wasn't enough, and one person's opinion just didn't provide the substantiation I needed. So, I registered on a dating website. Almost immediately my inbox was flooded with messages from eager singles wanting to get to know me. While I'll admit this stroked the ego that, for as long as I can remember, craved the attention from eligible bachelors- it was probably unfair to put myself out there when I wasn't ready to reap the results.
I'm alone still.
But for the first time in my 22 years of breathing, I think I am okay with that. Everything I've ever done in my life; every thought, every action, every decision I've made have all been rooted in my desire to please others and my crippling need to be loved by men. Because what did I have growing up? A physically absent and emotionally unavailable father whose impatience was rivalled only by his inability to look past appearances. Two brothers and a sister who, because of an age difference left me behind at every turn. A mother who worked herself to the bone to give my brother and me the childhood we deserved, but in doing so forgot what it was like to be a kid. And an entire school full of children, each dedicating their lives to making sure my days were filled with rejection, humiliation, and physical abuse.
This is how I spent my days. This is how I grew up; desperately trying to become the girl I thought people would like better and losing every part of the girl I was meant to be in the process. I had become so unrecognizable to myself; like a liquid with no definitive shape of her own. I had strayed so far from the strong and confident girl I knew I WANTED to be, that I let some self-absorbed, emotionally vapid, insensitive loser walk all over me and at the end of the day make ME out to be the bad guy.
Excuse me? When did I become a housewife? When did I become the sort of person who baked cookies, did laundry, rubbed feet, went grocery shopping, cooked dinner, wrote papers, made handmade gifts, smiled and nodded and let him be right, and got him off; sometimes without so much as a thank-you? When did I become the sort of person who tolerated an inattentive asshole who'd rather play video games than look at his naked girlfriend? And who deemed foreplay a "waste of his time"? And who after ALL of that, turned around and cheated on her with some blonde brazilian bimbo who didn't even speak English? Where in this relationship was Lisa and why was she so convinced that she was happy? Why was she convinced that her life was over after he left, and how come she was blaming herself when he turned around and cheated? Was I really designed this way?
So, after 3 months of wallowing in a whole lot of self-pity and even more self-doubt I got up, dusted myself off, and told myself that I was awesome. I may have not had any idea who that person was, and I may not have been entirely convinced that I was, indeed, awesome, but I knew that hidden beneath the insecurity and fear there was a substantial amount of good intention. That there was a smart, brave, thoughtful girl with the ability to smile and persevere. And so that's what I did. I persevered. I took up drawing, I started running again, I sang and wrote songs, I got a kitten, I started a new job and I worked hard to make a good first impression. I spoke my mind. I started going to yoga. I took up climbing and I realized with the right amount of determination anything is possible. Good things come to those who wait. The meek little girl melted away and found the confidence to do what she wanted even if it meant having to do it alone. And that same meek little girl found it in her to move on and put herself out there again. And, well, while I may be moving towards a dead end--at least it doesn't consume my whole world. And at least I'm out there.
So, here is what I know.
I know I am incredibly resilient.
I know I am funny, energetic, caring, considerate and smart.
I know I am good at a lot of things.
I know that what Ryan did does not reflect my ability to love and care for somebody.
I know that time heals all wounds.
And I know that I'm not perfect, but that I don't need to be. All I can do is be perfectly me.
June 3, 2012
Moving on...
I'm painfully aware that for years to come, I'll be looking for you in every boy that I pursue. Because sometimes, I swear, when something reminds me of you I can relive a moment and smile as I remember the happiest I've ever been.
Two weeks from now would have marked our two year anniversary. Had things not gone the way they did, as I never imagined they would, I'd feverishly be trying to plan something. Desperately praying that the countless hours I invested in the relationship would pay off, and he'd finally decide that I was worth an effort. And therein lies the entirety of our relationship. Me, ignorantly convinced that this could be the one. Him, blissfully devoid of emotion and unable and unwilling to commit.
So here I am. Today, like every day over the past three months, relentlessly assailed by the unpleasant memories that come strongly and without notice. Some are less unpleasant than others. Some resemble what I remember as happiness and love. Those are, usually shortly after, accompanied by a inexplicable sense of forlorn and an emptiness in the cavity that should be host to my heart. I prefer to silence those ones. But all the time the same, a new memory. A different day, a different laugh, different words. Each one flutters around in my brain for some time and then leaves. Never to be thought of again. So far, aside from the milestones in our relationship, I haven't thought of the same one again.
I think this is my way of dealing with things. I don't think I'll be satisfied unless I've analyzed every aspect of our relationship. Every minute of our time together. Every look he ever gave me. Every smile or touch of validation I craved and never received. Every time he came home drunk, passed out, forgot about me. There's an answer in all of these pieces. An answer to the unremitting question, "Why wasn't I good enough?" Unfortunately all I find when I scrutinize the minute details of us, is a vulnerable girl giving all of herself to a boy who wasn't ready. A girl who sometimes cried when he seemed distant, or when she thought about life without him. A girl who made dinners, desserts, gave massages, wrote papers, edited papers, let him go out with his friends, never got jealous, tried her best to be rational and understanding. A girl who never even dreamed of being with anybody else. So the truth is, no I don't think I did anything wrong. And yes, it was probably unwise to become so emotionally invested in somebody who was so emotionally detached and content with being alone.
So I'll let time do it's job. What he did hurt beyond any words I can put together to describe it, so I can't rush it. But one day, when I'm ready, I'll find the person I deserve to be with. And because I refuse to believe that everything I saw in Ryan was a lie, I hope they share a lot of the same qualities I found in him: self-sufficient, resilient, brave, warm, honest.
But I also hope they are nothing like him at the same time, because he is: incredibly self involved, terrified of commitment, callous, hot and cold and in between and terribly inconsistent, and blind. Obviously. Because if he couldn't see what an amazing thing he had right in front of him, he should get his eyes checked.
His loss.
Two weeks from now would have marked our two year anniversary. Had things not gone the way they did, as I never imagined they would, I'd feverishly be trying to plan something. Desperately praying that the countless hours I invested in the relationship would pay off, and he'd finally decide that I was worth an effort. And therein lies the entirety of our relationship. Me, ignorantly convinced that this could be the one. Him, blissfully devoid of emotion and unable and unwilling to commit.
So here I am. Today, like every day over the past three months, relentlessly assailed by the unpleasant memories that come strongly and without notice. Some are less unpleasant than others. Some resemble what I remember as happiness and love. Those are, usually shortly after, accompanied by a inexplicable sense of forlorn and an emptiness in the cavity that should be host to my heart. I prefer to silence those ones. But all the time the same, a new memory. A different day, a different laugh, different words. Each one flutters around in my brain for some time and then leaves. Never to be thought of again. So far, aside from the milestones in our relationship, I haven't thought of the same one again.
I think this is my way of dealing with things. I don't think I'll be satisfied unless I've analyzed every aspect of our relationship. Every minute of our time together. Every look he ever gave me. Every smile or touch of validation I craved and never received. Every time he came home drunk, passed out, forgot about me. There's an answer in all of these pieces. An answer to the unremitting question, "Why wasn't I good enough?" Unfortunately all I find when I scrutinize the minute details of us, is a vulnerable girl giving all of herself to a boy who wasn't ready. A girl who sometimes cried when he seemed distant, or when she thought about life without him. A girl who made dinners, desserts, gave massages, wrote papers, edited papers, let him go out with his friends, never got jealous, tried her best to be rational and understanding. A girl who never even dreamed of being with anybody else. So the truth is, no I don't think I did anything wrong. And yes, it was probably unwise to become so emotionally invested in somebody who was so emotionally detached and content with being alone.
So I'll let time do it's job. What he did hurt beyond any words I can put together to describe it, so I can't rush it. But one day, when I'm ready, I'll find the person I deserve to be with. And because I refuse to believe that everything I saw in Ryan was a lie, I hope they share a lot of the same qualities I found in him: self-sufficient, resilient, brave, warm, honest.
But I also hope they are nothing like him at the same time, because he is: incredibly self involved, terrified of commitment, callous, hot and cold and in between and terribly inconsistent, and blind. Obviously. Because if he couldn't see what an amazing thing he had right in front of him, he should get his eyes checked.
His loss.
May 18, 2012
Post-War Blues
"A man may call a pretty girl and perhaps be welcomed back again."
Sometimes I still wake up and have to remind myself that it wasn't just a bad dream. That the last two months were real. Every bit of pain. Every twinge of sadness. Every missed beat. The heaviness in my chest and undeniable sense of longing. And when I go to bed I wish with everything I have left, everything I still have left to give, that things were different. That time would stop, reverse, erase itself.
But even if I could turn back time, even if I could go back to before January 20th when he made the decision he did...it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change who he is or how much I meant to him. Was there anything I could have done? Anything I could have said? Had I not given him every part of me worth loving, and loved him back without condition and without judgement?
Eventually I have to stop blaming myself and accept that there wasn't anything I could have done to change the way things ended. They were destined to end the moment they began, if I'm being honest. And not because I didn't try. But because he told himself from the beginning that he wasn't ready for the kind of things I was ready for. All the signs were there. So eventually I have to stop blaming him too, because that's just who he is and where he is in his life. I want more than anything to believe he's the person I fell in love with. There is no worse feeling than losing the person you love, and questioning whether that person existed in the first place. I think he's capable of being better than that. At least, I hope for his sake because even after all of this I think he deserves love and kindness and patience. When he is ready, I hope he'll let somebody in who can give him that.
So what now? What about me? Where do I go from here? It's been so incredibly hard to find myself through all of this. I guess that's what you get when you let love blind you. Take you over. Become your whole world. So it crumbled. Everything I worked so hard for over the years was gone. Every bit of confidence and self assurance, gone faster than it took for her to upload that photo. My world was upheaved and everything was broken. I'm still broken.
And now there's this...this beacon of perpetual light and hope. This never ending source of happiness and affection and I'm too broken or messed up or too full of self-loathing that I can't just embrace it and admit it's what I've needed all along. Because then what? I fall in love. I let my guard down. I let somebody take care of me the way I crave to be taken care of. And then that's it? Or maybe he breaks my heart. At least I saw it coming from all the other scum bags. But what if I let him in, and he starts to see this perfect girl is not so perfect. Not even close. I'm back where I started.
I don't think I know what I deserve yet.
So this is what I've got so far. I HAVE to be okay on my own. I have to respect myself. Love myself. Worship myself. Accept every single one of my flaws as definitive pieces of me. Embrace them. Because if I don't know who I am, and respect that, how can I expect anyone else to?
I wish I could write songs.
"I'm not a stranger to the wonders of your silence. I want to be there when the walls all fall away. So I can see all of the things that made me love you. Just a smile, a simple smile on your face."
Sometimes I still wake up and have to remind myself that it wasn't just a bad dream. That the last two months were real. Every bit of pain. Every twinge of sadness. Every missed beat. The heaviness in my chest and undeniable sense of longing. And when I go to bed I wish with everything I have left, everything I still have left to give, that things were different. That time would stop, reverse, erase itself.
But even if I could turn back time, even if I could go back to before January 20th when he made the decision he did...it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change who he is or how much I meant to him. Was there anything I could have done? Anything I could have said? Had I not given him every part of me worth loving, and loved him back without condition and without judgement?
Eventually I have to stop blaming myself and accept that there wasn't anything I could have done to change the way things ended. They were destined to end the moment they began, if I'm being honest. And not because I didn't try. But because he told himself from the beginning that he wasn't ready for the kind of things I was ready for. All the signs were there. So eventually I have to stop blaming him too, because that's just who he is and where he is in his life. I want more than anything to believe he's the person I fell in love with. There is no worse feeling than losing the person you love, and questioning whether that person existed in the first place. I think he's capable of being better than that. At least, I hope for his sake because even after all of this I think he deserves love and kindness and patience. When he is ready, I hope he'll let somebody in who can give him that.
So what now? What about me? Where do I go from here? It's been so incredibly hard to find myself through all of this. I guess that's what you get when you let love blind you. Take you over. Become your whole world. So it crumbled. Everything I worked so hard for over the years was gone. Every bit of confidence and self assurance, gone faster than it took for her to upload that photo. My world was upheaved and everything was broken. I'm still broken.
And now there's this...this beacon of perpetual light and hope. This never ending source of happiness and affection and I'm too broken or messed up or too full of self-loathing that I can't just embrace it and admit it's what I've needed all along. Because then what? I fall in love. I let my guard down. I let somebody take care of me the way I crave to be taken care of. And then that's it? Or maybe he breaks my heart. At least I saw it coming from all the other scum bags. But what if I let him in, and he starts to see this perfect girl is not so perfect. Not even close. I'm back where I started.
I don't think I know what I deserve yet.
So this is what I've got so far. I HAVE to be okay on my own. I have to respect myself. Love myself. Worship myself. Accept every single one of my flaws as definitive pieces of me. Embrace them. Because if I don't know who I am, and respect that, how can I expect anyone else to?
I wish I could write songs.
"I'm not a stranger to the wonders of your silence. I want to be there when the walls all fall away. So I can see all of the things that made me love you. Just a smile, a simple smile on your face."
February 19, 2012
My heart feels restless,
My mind is a mess, Miss,
Will you tell me all your secrets?
Tell me what it takes to keep it?
My body now at war,
Takes a toll, and then some more,
Will you share your biggest secret?
Because I'm telling you I need it.
And now my blood is full of noise,
Red, and hot, as it destroys,
Will you tell me what it takes?
Both your feet pressed on the brakes?
Trying to express this kind of sadness is very difficult.
My mind is a mess, Miss,
Will you tell me all your secrets?
Tell me what it takes to keep it?
My body now at war,
Takes a toll, and then some more,
Will you share your biggest secret?
Because I'm telling you I need it.
And now my blood is full of noise,
Red, and hot, as it destroys,
Will you tell me what it takes?
Both your feet pressed on the brakes?
Trying to express this kind of sadness is very difficult.
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