Wednesday, September 8, 2010

i am happy

i haven't written for awhile. i haven't really needed to.

i met a man in a parking lot when he was driving wildly. he waved. i waved back. the next day we met.( as in, not just through glass windows). we met across a parking lot, shook hands, and he apologized for almost hitting my car.

we talked. we talked all night. about everything and nothing, and topped the night off with pancakes ( i ate, not him), and hopes to see one another. he forgot to ask me for my phone number.

next day i met him again. coffee shop. he asked me for my number. i asked him to the beach. twice. he came. i have seen him every day since. and i love him more than i ever thought i could love anyone.

it is like a fairy tale.

he is an artist, a writer, my second half. a loving man. a spectacular partner.

he always says he is lucky to have met me.

but really, i am the lucky one.

Monday, March 8, 2010

lip service.

I often wonder if people practice what they preach. Or if continual lip service is standard in society. I tend to believe that the latter is the truth, and it is a constant disappointment.

I wish that people were not such a perpetual let down, and at some point people will be who they say they are.

The old saying goes, however that "you can wish in one hand and crap in the other, and see which one fills up the fastest". My bets tend to be on the hand filled with shit, yet I am not willing to dive in to an exploratory research project of this matter.

I finished my graduate school application last week, I ought to be finding out in the next two weeks if I have been accepted. I truly hope so, as life, as I know it has gotten quite boring. I need my plate to be toppling over, as opposed to the usual status of being completely filled.

I really told myself that this year I would blog more often, however there has been a continued disconnect between my mind and my methods of expression. I miss my friends back home. I miss back home in general. To say I am homesick is an understatement, but in reality there is nothing for me there that isn't here besides my family, and soon enough they will be here as well.

I miss having friends that are so down for me that they will drop whatever they are doing and hang out with me. Most people have their own agendas, and their own crap. This I can respect. A lot of stuff I can't. I loathe how so many people call people friends that are not their friends. It seems so juvenile, I know, but hanging out with someone one day a month, or even four days a month, does not make that someone your friend. Plain and simple. There are people on this earth I can call at 3 am on a Wednesday that will pick up their phone. Those people are my friends, every one else falls into the acquaintance category. Perhaps this is harsh. Perhaps I don't give a shit how harsh that is, because reality is never an easy pill to swallow. There are people I trust until the end of time, and there are people who will smile in your face and turn around and talk shit. I find it bothersome that the majority of the acquaintances each and every one of us make are in alignment with the second group of people.

I think, that this all may sound rather negative. It isn't, I am usually quite a bright and sunny person, I have just grown up a lot, and have started to see people for what they are, not who they want to be. The rose colored glasses stopped working a couple of years ago, and the clarity by which I assess most things is startling.

If you would have asked me 5 years ago what I would have been when I grew up, I would have told you a civil rights attorney. Now I am headlong into the financial services sector, and loving it ( mostly). I see a lot of bullshit in my line of work, but I am fairly convinced that is just how the real world works.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

mental vomit.

I have nothing to say. I have everything to say. This continual paradox haunts my soul . So do the decisions that I made. I struggle with somethings that many have no idea about with demons tormenting me daily, nightly, weekly, yearly, and with the only sword to battle with being my mind. Yet my mind is weak at moments when my heart has time to stop and think.

Darkness shrouds me often. I try to dance my way out of it, but am currently failing. To say I am depressed is not quite a description that I would use for the feelings I have. I go to therapy often, yet learn that the more I speak, the more I realize, the more I remember, the more I want to forget.

How is remembering supposed to make better? Forgetting worked but forgetting made me act not like myself. Sometimes though I can't remember what myself is because I forget so much, so often. I forget big parts of my life. I don't remember much of my past. Anything traumatic is forgotten. Anything.

When Eric left me. I remember coming home to nothing because my Mom reminds me. I can't remember the pain. I can't remember the hurt of it. Or of anything. That is called disassociation. Disassociation is my best friend. My greatest friend.

My worst enemy are Triggers. They are everywhere. Television. Touch. Sights. Sounds. Thoughts. I can't escape them, even when I try. Disassociation battles Triggers and leaves me numb without memory.

In case my cryptic post has left you puzzled I am going to speak in a journal, public for open eyes something that I tell almost no one. I don't know why I have made this decision, and may change my mind tomorrow. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and it rules every part of my life and every decision, bad and good that I make. I don't remember exactly why I have it. I don't exactly know what happened. Part of me wants to keep it that way, but part of me wants to know. Part of me knows exactly what happened later in life, which I have PTSD from as well, but the real "meat" of my disorder stems from things of my youth. I have compulsions, I act impulsively, I (used to) seek attention. I work on all of these daily.

I sit at home by myself almost every night and think of all of these things. Having ruined friendships intentionally, for reasons that my therapist calls "normal to PTSD", I call idiotic and thoughtless. I miss Arizona because I miss having friends. Out here I have no one. But in reality, out there I really have no one too. Just my mom. Even she doesn't know the truth. She just helps me not feel so lonely.

I thought having a corporate job making good money would help me. It doesn't, It just means I buy more stuff and have money in a retirement account.

My boyfriend and I got back together, which is great, but he is far from me and has his own thing going on, and in effort to not be a super clingy girlfriend, I am trying not to sweat not speaking to him as much as I want, trying desperately not to disassociate because it is hard. I fight my best friend everyday. Because my best friend is really my worst enemy.

This is just the surface. This is just a glimpse of "me", but most people will never try to find out more. Most people just don't care. They pretend well, but they don't truly care. They will whisper of this behind my back, if they catch word, as they do everything else, and never truly look me in the face and talk to me about anything. I think that is sad. But I think all of this is sad. People that get second chances are willing to give none. People make judgments off of what other people say without speaking to the person they are judging. I hope I have grown out of that. But sometimes I do it too. I pray that I don't do it one day.

Maybe one day I will be okay.

Monday, December 21, 2009

i hate admitting when i am wrong

but i was wrong. i made a post before about the man being not wonderful for me. just wonderful. i was wrong.

he is perfect for me and i was just too pigheaded to admit it to myself or to him. i want him back in the worst way, and let me just say i am never in a position such as this. ever. but i am. and for the first time in my life i have thrown all of my emotions ( you know, the ones i force down all of the time) on the table. i hope it isn't too late. i know i hurt him so badly.

i am stressed to a point almost unhealthy as i am afraid that the damage was to great. but i know my love is so strong. i pray that his is too. i pray for healing of our hearts and souls and building our relationship back to the beautiful place i know it can be and where it was.

i can barely write in fear of this not coming true. i can barely breathe until i know it will come true. things have changed, i know, but i think for the better i think we have both learned and grown and can enjoy each other without the stress of living together. i hope. i pray.

i feel like every sappy copeland song is about him, and american nightmare has got it all figured out.

i love him. i really do. so much, with my entire heart. i can't believe i let him go. i feel so utterly idiotic.

remember to breathe. remember to breathe. remember to breathe.

constantly reminding myself to not shut down my emotions, that he is worth being vulnerable for. he is worth being hurt over.

remember to breathe.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

i am going to LA

tomorrow. to see an old love. hoping for a rekindling. perhaps, i was wrong in my previous post. i think he is wonderful for me, yet i was dealing with so much of my own drama that i was unable to see him for what he is. i miss him often. i miss him always. i hope he wants to be with me. so badly. i guess we will see how tomorrow goes. and the day after... and the day after that.

remember to breathe.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

i always wanted

a job where i wore a suit each day. now that i have it, i am seriously reconsidering my desire for such a heinous outfit, day in, day out. i thought with a suit came power, with power came money, and with money, came happiness. i was wrong.

although happiness is something that ought to be striven for, it is something that is difficult to quantify. happiness to you is most certainly different than happiness to me. yesterday i took a piece of paper and wrote down everything that made me happy. it read something like this.

* rhys laughing
* dancing
* baking
* my friends

my list stopped there. i don't have friends like i did in arizona, and perhaps i will never have friends like that again. i have about 3 friends out here i can call who will pick up their phone at any time. this hurts my heart, but is a sad reality of my existence in california. rhys laughs frequently, screams only sometimes, and is all around an amazing child. i am lucky. dance is dance is dance is. i love it so much that that is all i want to do ( outside of hanging out with rhys), although it is good i have such a ferocious passion for it that it has become borderline unhealthy ( in terms of my obsessiveness with it). baking is fabulous but can lead to the expansion of my waistline that is less than.

although currently i am 5 pounds away from my pre-baby weight ( 115), i am still struggling to see the "in shape" or "thin" person that i know everyone else sees. i don't know when i began have such a dysmorphic image of myself. when i look in the mirror i see a fat girl. a huge girl. when i step on the scale i want to lose more. i think, truthfully, i will never be skinny enough, for me, but for my health i know i need to keep my weight loss/exercise fanaticism under control as it is dangerous for me to see myself as being any less than how i know i am, in shape and beautiful.

i miss my friends back home. i feel forgotten about often. i hate feeling forgotten/blown off/ etc. it makes me sad. i am sad often, but i try to be happy more often than i am sad. i am afraid of being judged for being myself, constantly. i have always been different, when i was younger i was cast out for it, now i am older i feel like an outcast, just in a different way.

this entry feels depressing, but i suppose it echoes the reality of my current existence. things will look up, but i need to find more things to put on my "happy" list, because four will never cut it.

Friday, November 27, 2009

lunch at home.

As per usual these days. I am not certain if this is a depressing action or an "adult" decision. I mean, after all, it is more fiscally beneficial to me to go home and eat/not eat and read emails, etc. However, sitting alone on my bed with my lap top in its name given place, I begin to think about all of the things that I am able to push out of my mind on a day to day basis.

I always hear that I am scary successful. I am not certain what that means, but from what I can it means that I frighten men off with my career. Lovely. My daughter asked me for a family for Christmas. Which we have, me, her, my roomate and our house dog, oscar the dog. Of course my Mother is an ever present fixture in our lives, yet only when she can, and the drives from Arizona she makes bimonthly must be killing her. Yet she makes them anyways.

My Mother turns 60 in 2010. I am terrified that one day she will die. This sounds morbid, I know, but I have come to realize that I don't need a relationship with any men because my love for my Mother would outreach any love I could have for a man that will, inevitably, fuck up and treat me like shit. She has become so much more than a Mother since I have had my daughter. Perhaps this is the typical evolution of the Mom-Daughter bond. In High School I never understood her rules and her mantras. I never understood why I could not have designer jeans and everything I wanted. I get it now. I get it all. My mother begged me to never get tattooed. Of course, 1 month after turning 18 I ignored her completely, and got my legs tattooed. Of course I ignored her. And of course, 6 years later I wear tights every day of my life under my suits. I wish I didn't have to, and one day I will ask, for Christmas, for those tattoos to be removed. Full circle, like a child, begging to be fixed for the mistake I knowingly made.

Not that there is anything wrong with tattoos, because I feel like they are beautiful and I love all of mine. ( Some she still has never seen.... and it will be kept like that for all eternity), I just wish I would have chosen better places to be initially rebellious.

I dance a lot now. Like every day. My goal is to be a proam competitive ballroom dancer within the next two years. I know I can do it. I was just given the opportunity to train with a man who has not picked up a new student in 3 years. He asked me to be his student, and I must say I am proud of myself. I like to be good at things. Don't we all? I just like to be the best. Because if I am not number one I truly feel like I have failed.

I should work on that. That is probably ( yet another one) of my relationship hindrances.

Goals for 2k10 ( to date)

Be a better mommy, every day.
Bronze 1-3 in my dances.
Get promoted.
Smile more, laugh more.
Date a man worth my time, and recognize ( immediately) when he is not.
Finish my house

That's all, for now.

Also, side note: The boy I moved out to Redlands for was wonderful, just not wonderful for me. In case there is any confusion. I ruined that by being me. Like I always do.