Selfish

My stomach feels like an aching void (of course, if it was a void, I'd be a lot skinnier). Tonight I've been reading about fictitious people and wishing, not for the first time, that I could be part of the story. 

The acheis easy to explain. It's just loneliness coupled with fear of rejection plus missing things that use to prop up the constructs of my world.

I miss a couple guys who crushed me. I shouldn't, but I do on night's like this. Everyone I love are adults (or babies who you can't have a discussion about accountability with) who are married and/or have kids and/or jobs to wake up for, so it becomes hard to justify waking then up (or slowing them down) by posing theological queries or asking what kind of cake they'd want to be or if they've listened to Beau James' Ten Shots yet. 

It's selfish. I know it is. Plus it's whiny of me to miss it. I'm exceedingly blessed to have so many loving friends (who hopefully won't read this & think I'm ungrateful or trying to say they're anything less than awesome), but nights like this make me wish I had one person that was just mine. 

Someday. 

But for now, back to listening to my iPod flip berween old songs while reading an old book. Life's not too bad even if I'm aching sometimes. 

Happy Thoughts

Lately everything has seemed, and felt, world-ending awful. It's stupid and childish, but I've been exhausted and heartbroken and confused and afraid. So very afraid. As a result I've been forgetting the good, so I decided I need to think some happy thoughts. So here goes (in no particular order).

1. (Especially tonight) Baseball movies. It's freezing here in northern Illinois, but it's nothing a beer and Bull Durham can't cheer back up. 

2. (This totally led right to this:) That baseball season is in sight. Thank you, God. I need the baseball season as much as I need sunshine and stars. 

3. Phone calls with Nikky and Kyle. They lead to weird honesty, gales of laughter, and better perspectives (or at least different which I need sometimes). Plus I get to hear about their lives and their kids and families. All things I miss and need. 

4. Frozen blueberries. Smoothies, my people. They are glorious. 

5. Friends that text back, pray for you, make you laugh so hard you cry, give you books, and let you be honest. 

6. The last segment on NBC news at night that's dedicated to something cheerful and kind. 

7. That we all deserve to wear white. (For further explanation see #1 and watch Bull Durham.)

8. Knowing I need to go back to school. It just needs to happen. (Though that's one of the many things I'm also terrified of.)

9. Virtually anything Jennifer Crusie writes. Really. 

10. Tom Hiddleston. Because he's a great man from the inside out. He gives me hope for finding men who are not just kind or smart or funny or knowledgeable about Shakespeare, but all of that. Plus he's genuinely good to his fans, and big on using his celebrity to care for others. He just gives me hope. 

These are the things that are lighting me up. Life really isn't all bad. There's lots of good left when I remember to see it. I hope you can too. 

Fearless

I'm trying to recapture a feeling.

A few minutes ago I was having a conversation with my mother while my brain was working out a comparison between "When in Rome" and "I Hate Valentine's Day" (cute stories, but not terribly high production quality) when I felt like I got slapped up the backside of the head.  A quiet voice inside me said, "I stopped believing," and I realized it was true.

I stopped believing I'm ever going to find a guy who will ever want me.

Maybe you're saying, So, Fate takes care of these things.  He'll come. Or maybe, You're right, you'll be single forever with that attitude. Or the classic, Just enjoying being single.  You just need to be patient.  He'll show up.

Blah blah blah.

No.  What I'm saying is, I stopped believing in my ability to be anything any man will ever want.  I'm not saying this so anyone will feel sorry for me.  I'm saying this because it suddenly hit me that I really don't believe, and now I'm angry at myself.  Angry enough to consider rewatching every romantic comedy I've ever loved (and have just realized I've been avoiding for the past few years now), read oodles of romantic poetry, reinvest in trash novels and dating books...and reread all my late friend Zuni's emails yelling at me about love.

How the heck did I let myself get to here?  Oh yeah, letting bitterness eat away at my heart for the past few years.  That may have something to do with it.  Gah.  I'm an idiot.  I think that after my last true heartbreak, I shut off my heart.  I worked hard not to care too deeply or get too attached because I knew that at any time any guy I chose to care for could walk away or, like the guy I was in love with, they could chose to completely erase me from their life and marry some other girl.  It hurt so much.  So much.  So much.  It still does some nights when the wind blows just right and whips its way through the tattered bits, but this is a worthless excuse.

I use to be fearless.  I use to be so crazy about love and so passionate about finding the guy I was going to marry.  I knew he was out there.  I knew.  He was real and solid, and I use to have dreams about him.  I didn't doubt that someday in the future I would settle down with someone who I could love like crazy who would love me the same way back.  I'd fall in love with my best friend just like my folks, and I would have a great life.

But now I am just a coward.  I'm so scared of getting torn up again, and so sure that it will happen every time that I'm struggling to keep going. I keep shoring up other peoples' broken hearts and cheering on everybody's relationships and convincing them to take the risks I'm too scared to take.

This isn't me.

I am the girl who will move across the country because I believe in something.  I'm the girl who has moved on her own to a variety of states to keep starting over.  I've left jobs to pursue dreams.  I've been someone's secret admirer.  I've asked guys out on dates.  I've admitted to guys that I'm crazy about them.

I am not this shell of human being that I'm hiding behind.  I am not content to work in a kitchen the rest of my life with a group of women (who, don't get me wrong, are incredible) where I'm never going to grow or make any kind of real money or meet anyone.  I am not content to be alone forever or be every guy's back up plan.

It's time I get back to being passionate and brave.  I'm going to be fearless.

Me vs. Me

I've been thinking lately about the woman I'd hoped to be at 30, but I'm looking around at my life these days and realizing, she's a ghost. 

I wanted to weigh less than 150 lbs (because that's what I weighed in high school and was told I was a cow), to play a musical instrument well (instead of having played 3 so far and none of them well), to be married (hahahaha), and to have children (which is a near impossibility for me given my PCOS and poor management not to mention a complete lack of man in my life). I wanted so many things by the time I reached this point. I had hoped I'd have more than my  Associates in Arts and that I'd be pursuing a career I loved. 

I am not going to be that woman. Not by my 30th birthday 5 months from now, possibly not ever. 

The reality is, I don't know who I'm going to be by 30. Hopefully I'll have officially decided on whether or not I'm going to go back to school at all. If not, I've got to find a new career path and make it work. I'd also like to have actually seen a doctor about my PCOS and have a better plan of attack so that I don't feel do hopeless and overwhelmed. 

Yes, I'd cheerfully accept the presence of a grown man who actually wants to love me, but I'm going to try to be happy even if he hasn't shown up by my birthday. He'll be worth the wait whenever he decides to show up. 

By 30, I'd like to be closer to truly accepting and loving the woman I already am, and instead of expecting to magically become someone else, I'd like to just keep growing. 

Maybe I'm not anyone else's ideal, but I'd like to be mine. 

My New Year's Toast

Happy New Year! I've already managed to catch something on fire today (no injuries or fire alarms), so I'd say I'm off to an interesting start. 

I didn't get to make a New Year's toast last night because by the time midnight rolled around I was falling asleep brushing my teeth (PARTY!), so instead let's raise our glasses (literally or not) to toast the new year. 

My friends, may 2016 start a fire in your hearts that rages and consumes. May it be a fire for truth and love and beauty, but most important kindness. May this new fire (or blaze rekindled) be bright enough to start others ablaze. Let us strive for justice, but let us also strive for peace. Let this year be the year we truly learn to love ourselves so that we can genuinely and completely love our neighbors. May this be a year we embrace growth and new beginnings and inspire change in ourselves and others. 

I wish you every happiness, but also hope. 

Happy New Year!