- putting the binder clip to the story I’m editing on my shirt collar
- coming home to a bowl of pineapple cut up especially for me
- Bear, the black lab/ Chesapeake Bay retriever cross
- flower vase improvisation (Budweiser stein edition)
- receiving flowers to be put in above “vase”
- the repair shop cleaned my car in addition to fixing the damages
- when my military friends are home on leave
- finding the perfect gift for someone months before their birthday
Monthly Archives: December 2011
For a minute there, I lost myself
First off, I need to explain something.
I’m more concerned with the present with this blog. Which means, some of these posts aren’t going to make any sense based on what is written within this blog. If I don’t feel like explaining the back-story of something, I’m not going to. Sure, for a future post I might, but that’s not a guarantee.
That being said, the following post will pretty much only make sense to me.
Hm… I’m not sure how to start this. I guess the title of the post explains it (thank you, Radiohead quote). For a period of time, I lost sight of who I was and who I’m aspiring to become. I was aiming so hard to please someone, I let go of everything. I tried so hard to win this person over, I was forgetting about myself. I wanted to make this person happy and I was stopping at nothing to make that happen.
Some time in the process of this, I was sedated. I lost my spunkiness. Little things that made me a person I like slipped away. I pushed around every bend hoping it would be the last. But the end was never in sight. I grew tired and wayward. My desire for this person drove me to become something I wasn’t.
I’ve always been self-conscious about my weight. It’s silly, really. I’m perfectly healthy and sometimes commented as being under-weight. I am thin. I am petite. During the summer, this person made a joke about me being fat. It was a joke and I knew it was a joke. Not matter what I did, I couldn’t get the word “fat” out of my head. I started exercising more and eating less. Much less. The imbalance between energy spent and energy acquired was huge. There were times when I was at work, a physically demanding job, where I wasn’t sure if I could remain standing.
I run on what I call “Rachel-time.” It’s no set pace. Sometimes it’s slow. When I was little, I read a book called Catwings. In it, it mentions an owl, staring at one of the winged cats. The book says the owl thought long and hard. When Rachel-time is slow, that’s how I imagine myself; an owl in its nest in a hollowed out tree. Sometimes, Rachel-time is fast, as if my life is on fast-forward.
In the case of my emotional and romantic feelings toward this person, Rachel-time was super speedy. Diving head-long without restricting thoughts fast. I thought to myself, “Well, why not? If not now, when?” I went all in. Which is silly. I don’t do things like that. He and I had talked and hung out for two weeks; at that point I’d fallen stupidly, naively in love. From then on, I was on a spooked horse, tearing across the land without any control. I couldn’t rein it in to take the time to think and logic it out.
There’s a bunch of other stuff accompanying this. I know what it is and that’s good enough for me. I don’t need to detail it all out here. The point is, I was behaving in a manner that was unacceptable by societal standards and by my own standards. I don’t say things like “Oh, hey. You’re going to grad school? I’m extremely marketable and can find a job any where. Sounds good, right?” No, it doesn’t. That shit is whacked. But in spending time with this guy, I’d lost the inner-bitch that would have flipped him off and walked away a LOOONG time before.
I’m not saying all interactions with him were negative. I netted a lot of positive things from whatever it is one calls the messed-up relationship-friendship we had. I’m also not demeaning or negating my feelings for him. No matter how naive I was.
In some matters in life, I’m like Sophie (my ancient, wise ewe) and in others I’m like Dutchess (my only pet sheep who isn’t fit for breeding). In this, I was like Dutchess. I’ve come to a time when I’ve realized I can’t have pet sheep. I need to move on from holding onto the idea that I can keep a non-productive ewe. And that’s what I’ve done this winter break. I’ve moved on and I’ve healed. Now I’m like Siren (stick with me with the sheep similies). Wise, loving but cautious, beautiful in appearance and soul, and just a little bit off my rocker.
In short, I’ve got my spunk back and I’ve never been better.
It All Makes Sense Now
I think I finally realized why I failed so many times with this blog. Why there were so many stops and starts. Why there are blanks for months at a time. An explanation for the jumps between entries.
My life has never been easy. It may simply be my fault. I’m over-sensitive. I over-analyze. I don’t let the little things go. I’d come up against a road block and it would stump me. I’d spend weeks and months sniffing my way around to attempt for a solution.
If you put a mouse in a maze, the first time through it will take a long time for it to find the cheese. With each run, the time shortens. It adapts better. The trials of my life are my maze. As each one comes at me, I learn a more efficient way to get through it.
But what does that have to do with this blog?
When things were rough, I’d come to this blog to vent. But I would lie to myself, writing what I wanted to see and hear. When things didn’t get better, or didn’t go the way I wanted them to, or I lied to myself for too long, I’d bail out. There would come a point where everything built up too much and I only wanted to avoid it. So I would run with my tail between my legs. I left this blog because to continue writing would mean admitting things to myself that I didn’t want to. In time, when my feet were under me again, I’d return, only to slip on the ice.
This past summer, I stopped lying to myself. I wish I could say it’s made life easier or better. It hasn’t. It hurts worse than ever and it’s grim to have such a bleak outlook on life now.
As is life.
From J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.
From Herman Melville…
“Dream tonight of peacock tails, diamond fields and spouter whales. Ills are many, blessings few, but dreams tonight will shelter you.”
It’s not ALL bleak
A post for another time is a discussion of my lack of religious upbringing and lack of spiritual beliefs, and how I later came to develop a moral center and begin going to church.
For this post, the necessary information is:
- For the first 22 years of my life, I attended church twice (save funerals and baptisms/christenings)
- Since the last Sunday in October of this year, I have began going to church weekly
- Over my Thanksgiving break, I finally told my parents that I had been attending church
- I believed they were supportive
A couple of days ago, I was talking to my mother on the phone. During the course of our conversation, she accused me of having a specific motive for going to church. For all this time, she thought my reason for going had nothing to do with anything spiritual. She thought I was going in attempt to impress someone.
This really bothers me. Sure, I had been going to church with this person. But that was because this is a scary thing for me and I wanted to go with someone I trusted and would be positive and supportive. And, yes, I do have feelings of a particular sort for this person. However, my reasons for going to church have absolutely nothing to do with trying to impress him.
I want to become a better person. I want to believe. I want something I can turn to when things are getting rough. I’ve learned again and again there isn’t a human on this planet I can rely on, but I should be able to count on God. And I’m beginning to realize more and more the numerous times that He’s helped me out.
It still troubles me, several days later, that my mother believes me to be so morally bereft. Yes, I grew up constantly trying to please everyone around me. Even if it was something that was never asked of me. So, it shouldn’t be of any surprise that my mother would think I was trying to prove something to this guy. But, you know, I do do things for myself on occasion, and this is one of them.
In the Air
I’m undecided if I want to pick the reins back up on this blog. It had been months since my last post. There’s nothing saying I won’t disappear for months at a time again.
How like my life that is… Disappearing for months at a time. Only to pop back up unannounced. “Oh, hey. I don’t need you. So long. But, wait! In a moment of weakness brought on by an unwarranted memory I’ll contact you again.”
Yup. That’s how it goes.
Do I need this blog?
I have a Twitter account. I have a separate blog. One I actually update daily, although frequently with trite and pithy glimpses into my life. Is my WordPress blog necessary? Obviously, I must have come back to it for a reason.
Maybe it’s a comfort thing. Like when I actually return to the Motherland while I’m not at college. Yesterday I went to the Motherland to help my brother do chores. I missed that. We got along. I was almost sad to leave. I haven’t spent the night at the Motherland since mid-August. I’m at a strange stage in my life where I’m not sure where home is.
For a great portion of my time in the last three and a half years, I’m at college. For three of those years, I always returned to the Motherland when on breaks and weekends. Now, I set camp on foreign soils, away from the Motherland. I’ll call it Base Camp. So, I have: college; the Motherland; and Base Camp. Which is home? I don’t know.
I think the fact that I did return for an entry to follow-up the last one might be a sign I will continue to update WordPress. Time will tell.
I’m just going to pretended it hasn’t been months since I last posted
Today I made a very big, very important decision for myself, the progress of my life, and my mental well-being. I’ve told no one of this (save on the blog I keep regularly). I’ve kept it personal. It’s something that’s been pending for a long time, but I avoided it.
When I committed it to written word, I began to cry.
I felt lost and alone. It hurt to realize and confirm to myself. For the longest time, I knew, but I held onto a pointless hope. I had placed all my bets on a horse that didn’t want to run the race. Gentle coaxing did nothing. A carrot in front of the nose stirred no response. This horse just wasn’t going to go.
And so, there I was. Sitting alone in my room at school, crying into my palms. It was/is hard. I know I don’t have to worry about being alone for the rest of my life. I’m pretty and that attracts people. However, I want to attract people based on intelligence and personality. And, of course, a little bit of quirkiness. I want to find someone who wants to spend time with me because the pretty is just a bonus, not the main factor.
Anyway, the above was a bit of a tangent from what I intended.
As I was feeling hopeless in my crying, I opened up a book and found a quote, at random, that helped me understand what my decision meant.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.
- Solomon’s Song 2:11
It will get better. This is for the best. This is what is meant to happen.
