Incorrigible, Resilient Hope

2017 has not been my favorite year. It may actually be my least favorite year in all of my years thus far. Still trying to see the positivity in all that has happened and is happening. I’m trying to view the struggles in an encouraging light. I’ve cried myself to sleep more often than not this year (Migraines LOVE it when you cry! It fuels them.). So, here’s to seeing the good in the bad.

• If I never had chronic migraines, I would never be so sympathetic to others with invisible wounds, hurts, and illnesses. You never know what someone else is going through.
• If I never had a car that broke down at the most inopportune times, I would never have valued how willing and capable my dad is when it comes to basic mechanics.
• If I never had my cat nearly die on me this year, I would never have acknowledged how much I love that stupid demon kitty no matter how horrible of a cat she is.
• If I never had my heart broken, I would never have known how much even I could love. Me. Truly love another human being. Used to think it was impossible.
• If I never ended my long-term relationship with the man I was dating for several years, I would never have realized the person I was with wasn’t for me nor was I for him no matter how difficult it was to lose that relationship, that friendship. I wish nothing but the best for that man. Earlier this year, I couldn’t say that. But I can now.
• If I never had loved someone to the point where it nearly ruined me, I would never have this incorrigible hope deep in my belly that I will meet someone someday who—instead of ruining me—stands beside me to form this life-altering duo of awesomeness. With matching rings of power (or wedding bands, whatever you mere mortals call them).
• If I never spent so many hours meal prepping and sweating my butt off in and out of the gym, I would never have shed these 30 lbs and 30+ inches off my body this calendar year alone. “What’s good for the body is good for the mind” rings true again and again!
• If I never had found myself homeless and jobless this summer, I would never have appreciated the generosity and hospitality of friends and family.
• If I never had lost a dear friend, I would never have treasured my gal pals as much as I do now.
• If I never had cried so hard that I couldn’t breath only to discover I could keep crying for days/weeks/months, I would never have relished being hugged so fiercely by my mom who gives the best hugs on the planet.
• If I never had gone out with guys who treated me like all I was to them was a bunch of holes to fill and a face to hit, I would never have respected the few exceptions of kind men out there.
• If I never had been rejected by so many job opportunities, I would never have tasted the sweetness of being accepted and of being valued. (I’m still looking for a better job if y’all know of anything.)
• If I never had 2017 to be year full of the deaths of all my dreams and hopes in my adult life, I would never have understood that dreams can be altered or changed because life isn’t fair or predictable. (Honestly, I’m still working to understand this. There’s still a few more weeks in 2017 after all.)

2017 has been my year of holding onto hope so closely that I’m practically strangling it because that’s all I can do. This has not been a rebuilding year for me. This has been a destroying year. A broken year. A refining year. As usual, I’ve learned more life lessons than I would ever have desired!

Here’s to making the best of whatever’s left in 2017. “Every cloud has a silver lining.”

Moving Forward, Bravely

Random Guy I met via similar interests on social media (thanks Myers-Briggs!): “I’m 6’2″, and I just adopted two kittens.”

Me, summoning my courage: “Here’s my number.”

. . . .

We spent a solid two hours talking on the phone and had an unexpected lovely time.

Forgetting to appear sweet and flirt like a normal person, I accidentally broke out in my Bobby’s Mom voice in the middle of our conversation.

Guy, laughing: “What?  Did you really just do the voice for the mom on Bobby’s World?  Oh gosh, you’re amazing.  I need to meet you in person.  I’m highly intrigued.”

Still not sure how to process any of that other than to acknowledge I look forward to going out on a date with him soon.

#BobbysMomFTW

Late Nights Are Best

I’m exhausted, but I don’t go to bed early or even on time.  I never do.  I could have crawled into bed around 7:30 PM tonight and pretended like I would drift off to sleep, but my mind is always too busy.  Too full.  Too active.

The night is quiet, and I love quiet.  It’s calm, dark, and cool.  More of my favorite things.  The nighttime is my time to process what has happened during the previous daylight hours as well as to ponder what will come in the new day.  And that’s what keeps me awake.  The processing.

I’m not a fan of the unknown, of what could be, of the future.  I don’t like mornings because mornings bring change and responsibility and pretending that I abide by the status quo.  Which I don’t, at least, not on the inside.  I am at my most inauthentic emotional and mental state during the daylight hours.  But the night?  Oh the night, I come alive.

The night is my time.  The day is not.  The night is never long enough, and the dreaded daytime is always too long.  I spend all day longing for the night then spend all night dreading the day.  And that’s why I will always have bags under my eyes.  

Night time truly is the right time.

Loyalty

When everyone else in the world has failed me, I still have my family.  I know I’m lucky to have my family.  Their loyalty continues to know no bound.  We aren’t perfect, we don’t always get along, we have plenty up against us, but we still stick together.

My siblings and I are still oddly faithful to each other even after everything that happened in our childhood and now into adulthood.  We still talk smack about each other all the time, but nobody else better dare treat one of us poorly.  Our sibling gang is strong even if we aren’t close.  We have years of loyalty through quantity and quality time spent.

My parents, though likely highly misguided, still think I’m an extremely capable, gifted individual who could do just about anything I wanted to do.  They are more protective of me than I realized, especially after this latest breakup.  My parents hold me in such high regard that their seemingly delusional view of me almost makes me want to believe I really am that intelligent and capable.  Having your own personal set of cheerleaders isn’t something everybody has, so I know my good fortune.

My family even keeps letting me back in every single time I make a mistake, and I don’t make little cute mistakes.  I make big, ugly ones.  I fail repeatedly, and my family is always there to help me get back on my feet.

Even though I’m sad, broken, and in one of the lowest spots I’ve ever been, I know I still have my family.  I know I am blessed.  

Loyalty matters.

Babies & Syringes

You always have that one friend . . .  Who would I be without Dawn and all of her bad ideas?  Ha ha!

Distance, Regret, Time, Resolve

Distance

I’ve consciously distanced myself from society and social media as of late.  Signed out, unplugged, deleted apps, turned off messaging options, declined invitations out, etc.  My so-called “friends” have disappointed me enough that I need a break from them, from everyone, from everything.  And since suicide is never sexy, becoming a sexy hermit for a bit will have to do.  

Friendship Pruning

We understand humans based off of how we interact with the world, how we think, how we would respond.

Considering I understand friendships and relationships based off how I would act or react, I have to conclude that the majority of my friends and acquaintances actually don’t care about me.  Why?  Because if I didn’t care about someone, I’d treat that person exactly how these people treat me.

It’s bad enough that love isn’t always reciprocal, but, unfortunately, friendship isn’t always either.

I’m not one for quantity of friends; I’m for quality.

Time to do a little pruning!

Devious

Him: “You’re devious.”
Me: “Devious? What have I done that’s even remotely devious?”
Him, shrugging: “You just are.”
Me: “No, you can’t say that. Give me even ONE example where I’ve been devious.”
Him: “Hey now, don’t look up at me with those big innocent-looking eyes!”
Me: “I’m not making a face! This is me waiting for you to give me an example because I know you don’t have anything on me!”
Him, laughing: “Just because I don’t have anything on you doesn’t mean you’re not devious.”
Me: “Pretty sure it does.”
Him: “You’re sparkly eyes aren’t fooling anyone.”
Me: “So devious people have sparkly eyes? Are you calling me a villain?”
Him: “You’re either wearing too little or too much eye sparkle to look like a villain.”
Me: “Just face it, you have no proof that I’m devious. My parents have proof . . .”
Him, interrupting me: “See! Your parents have proof! Therefore, you ARE devious!”
Me: “No, no . . . My parents have proof as to whether or not I am devious, not that I AM devious. They know me better.”
Him: “Oh, I know you well.”
Me, quietly whispering: “Oh no, no you don’t.”

Dear Guy Who Had the Audacity to Touch My Hair, don’t open doors unless you are ready to see what’s behind them. Also, I’m not devious. Not even a little bit. Cunning and calculating, maybe. But not devious. 

“Sleuthing”

Me: “So I did some sleuthing, and it was just disappointingly easy.”
Mom: “Sleuthing?”
Me: “Yeah, I did some research on Hot [insert name of my parents’ landscaper], and I thought it would be a challenge to find info on him. It wasn’t at all. Kinda disappointing.”
Mom: “Hold on, sleuthing? No, honey, that’s STALKING.”
Me: “No, it isn’t. It’s an entirely different approach. It’s more about finding answers for the questions one has, not like stalking at all.”
Mom, groaning then laughing: “[Landscaper] IS hot. Stalk away.”
Me: “I think you mean ‘Sleuth away!’

A Two-Date Minimum

Marcus: “We went on two dates.”
Me: “Uh, no, we went on only one date.”
Marcus: “Two dates. I swear.”
Me: “No, I’d remember.”
Marcus: “I have a two-date minimum. We had to have gone on two dates.”
Me: “Fine. What was our second date then?”
Marcus: “I don’t remember. My mind doesn’t work that way.”

Clearly, his mind doesn’t work in many ways. And now we know why I went out on only ONE date with him. Ha ha!

(For what it is worth, he owes me a date.  And I plan on redeeming it one of these days.)