Why I've Stayed Away

I know I am WAY late on this, but Happy New Year!  As for my absence from the blogosphere, all I can say is life has been complicated the last few months.  I know it seems that my life is always a little on the complicated side, but this has been a different kind of complicated.  I wasn’t ready to write about it, and I didn’t know how to write about anything else without addressing it.  

On December 5th my grandfather lost his 4 year battle with pancreatic cancer.  Cancer is a bitch of a disease.  There is no eloquent way to describe cancer and the havoc it wreaks on the body.  Watching the person you love deteriorate is so very heart breaking.  I made a choice not to see him when the cancer started progressing more quickly.  That is a decision I have second-guessed many times over the past couple of months, but I can’t change it, and I have come to peace with that.  See, my grandmother succumbed to cancer when I was 15, and I can’t only remember her sick.  I just remember the frail shell of a women, and that is not how I wanted to remember Papaw.  I want to always remember him as the husky prankster with the best chuckle I have ever heard.  I want remember him on his Goldwing motorcycle and not in a hospital bed.  If cancer was going to rob me of my grandfather, I wouldn’t let it rob me of my memory of him.

What has been harder than my own grief has been watching my mother grieve.  My mother is one of the most giving women I have ever met.  She is strong and selfless.  Watching her say goodbye to her dad was even harder than saying goodbye to my grandfather.  As she made trip after trip to Illinois to just sit at his bedside and take him to doctors’ appointments, it was like a piece of her was deteriorating too.  With every phone call where I could hear her crying on the other line, I knew there was nothing I could say to fix it.  She couldn’t fix him, and I couldn’t fix her.  Cancer made everything terminal.   I know at some point in each of our lives, if we are fortunate enough, we will have to say goodbye to our parents.  It is part of the neverending cycle of life.  But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier when it happens to your family.  I am relieved, if that is the right word, that he is no longer suffering - that is the silver lining I suppose.  But if it were up to me, I would have him here and healthy.  

Writing about my are-we-aren’t-we relationship just didn’t seem right when I had not addressed the only thing I will remember about 2014.  When I look back on 2014, it will always be the year my grandfather died, the year the cancer gobbled him up and left my world a little less bright.        

Make a Donation to the American Cancer Society and help in the fight to find a cure.  

   

DC, Love of My Life

Four years ago, I packed my bags and got on a plane to DC.  With no job lined up and just a spot on a practical stranger’s futon in their studio apartment, I was scared and exhilarated.  Politics had been my dream from a young age, and DC is the center of the political universe.  I was coming from small town Mississippi with no experience with public transportation, and where walking places was unheard of.  My parents gave me until the first of the year to find a job with a paycheck, or it was back to Mississippi I would go.  Whenever asked what is the most terrifying experience of my life, I would answer moving to Washington, DC.  It truly was a leap of faith, and one I am so glad I made.    

Luckily I wasn’t completely alone.  I had a few friends from college here, and most importantly Connor.  I don’t know that I have ever told him this, but I don’t think I would have moved here if he hadn’t already started grad school here.  Connor let me crash on his couch for 2 weeks before I decided to make the move.  He encouraged me to take the plunge; he made big city seem manageable, and for that, I will be forever thankful.  

Things quickly began to fall into place after stepping off the plane.  I got an unpaid internship at a campaign committee, and volunteered as much as possible.  I was making friends and work connections, and feeling more and more comfortable by the day.  Needless to say I made my parents’ deadline for a paycheck, and have been lucky to have several amazing opportunities over the past 4 years.  That doesn’t mean that every moment has been a cakewalk, and I have had my doubts about my career and DC in general.  But even when homesickness is settling in during the 6 months between trips to Mississippi, there is something about DC that always feels right.  

DC is my longest relationship.  This city has been my challenger, my best friend, my comfort zone, and the love of my life.  Choosing to move to DC certainly wasn’t the easiest decision, especially when I had options to stay closer to home.  DC meant I thought I was capable of more than those small options were.  DC meant I was making the dreams I had been talking about since I was 14 a reality.  DC has brought amazing people into my life to support me, to teach me, and to grow with me.  DC has also had its low points, friends who weren’t really friends, emotionally abusive workplaces and relationships, and a sea of self doubt because of it all.  Every time things got hard and I thought about going back to Mississippi, I realized something quite unexpected.  Mississippi will always be the home where I grew up, but DC is the home that I have built.  I am a Mississippian, a Washingtonian, and proud to call them both home.    

It is hard to believe that 4 years have passed since I got on that plane in Jackson full of hope and determination.  I am a much wiser version of myself now, and looking back there are some things I would have done differently.  But all in all I am proud of the person I have become, of the people I surround myself with, and the life I have built for myself.  

It has been a hell of a ride DC, and I think I am staying for a while.  I mean you don’t just walk away from the love of your life now do you?

Teddy Does London

My dear friend Ted, or as Elle, Lisa, and I like to call him Teddy Boo Boo Boo Boo, has just packed his bags and is headed to the most amazing city on earth. London!  Ok, so I have never been, but it is the place where 85% of my dreams take place.  For those of you who don’t know, I am absolutely, positively obsessed with EVERYTHING British!  Teddy has been making me insanely jealous with all of his amazing pictures from his morning runs.  Well, ok not the running part, we all know I don’t run, just the being in London part.    

Teddy did not do the proper research before hopping the pond, and is asking for suggestions on places to see and things to do.  So, I thought I would make Teddy a list of British things he needs to do, see, taste, and watch in order to immerse himself in the culture.  Of course, go to all the amazing museums, and the typical tourist stuff like riding the London Eye, touring Tower of London, and trying to make a palace guard laugh, but these are the random things that you might not have thought of.     

1. Go to Selfridges!  Selfridges, also known as Selfridge & Co., is a chain of high end department stores in the United Kingdom. It was founded by Harry Gordon Selfridge (a bad ass American). The flagship store on London's Oxford Street is the second largest shop in the UK (after Harrods) and opened 15 March 1909.

      

2. While you're at it, watch Mr. Selfridge!  That way you know why Selfridges is so freaking cool!  I mean Jeremy Piven!!  
3. The Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens.  This can be found in the true classic film Hook.  Teddy, this is a must see for every lost boy!    

4. Have Afternoon Tea.  The British Empire was built on the principle that everything stops for afternoon tea.  I even found you a very masculine place to enjoy this time-honored British tradition, the Reform Social & Grille!    
5. Hit some historic Pubs.  Here is a great list with helpful reviews!  Prove to the Brits that you can get boozy with the best of them!  Oh, and don’t forget the fish and chips!    
6. For God sake WATCH DOCTOR WHO!  I have only been telling you this for months, but maybe now you relieve how important it is to have a favorite Doctor! At the very least you will understand Lisa’s and my references.  (PS. Bow Ties are cool!)

7. Go to TONS of shows on the West End!  Think Broadway but with stars like David Tennant, Matt Smith (people you would know if you watched Doctor Who) and amazing original shows!!  It’s not just the great theater that you can catch here, also look for new bands and DJs playing free shows trying to catch their big break.  
8. Be in the Audience for a recording of a BBC show!  It is free and frankly pretty cool!  You can see what is taping soon and apply for your free tickets!  I highly recommend the Graham Norton Show if you can!  I would give you a $100 if you told a story for the Red Chair.  Also, just watch the Graham Norton Show every week!!  You will thank me.      
9. Hear people speak their minds at Speakers’ Corner.  At the north-east tip of Hyde Park near Marble Arch, Speakers' Corner is where anybody and everybody can jump on an old crate and voice their opinion every Sunday.  Teddy, since you won’t be able to argue politics with us at Happy Hour this might be a perfect spot for you to debate!  
10. Go to the races, a polo match or some other function where the pretty girl on your arm is wearing an amazing, yet silly hat.  I vote for polo because that seems more British!  

Of course there are a million other nerdy things I would do, like go to Kings Crossing and take my picture at platform 9 ¾, but I left those off because I am saving them for my visit!  Wouldn’t want Teddy to have to do them twice.  

More than just Teddy being in my dream city, I am jealous of this amazing life adventure he is getting to have.  Moving to a new city, a new country, with so many possibilities in front of you must be exhilarating!  Sometimes I think I started my career too soon, that I didn’t give myself time to explore the world, and now I won’t be able to until I am old and too tired to.  Well, thanks to Teddy I will be going on at least one adventure.  I am making my way to jolly old England this Spring whether Teddy wants me to or not. :)   Cheers!

Tinder Failure

I have come to a conclusion that is undeniably sad - I am bad at online dating.  I, Harper Waverly, am a Tinder failure.  I do not know how people develop real life relationships based off of a profile with all the best pictures of themselves and an unrealistic assessment of how many times they drink/work-out a week.  In person I dazzle, but via dating app, I am a complete flop.  

I don’t know how to be witty without being too flirty, to show interest without coming off as only wanting to hook up.  Part of the dilemma is the pervy mindset of the opposite sex when they message me on said dating apps.  When trying not to give the wrong impression, I fear I come off as boring.  It’s disheartening to try to get to know someone before deciding to meet up, and be met with radio silence. It’s important to figure out where you are from, whether you went to college, and if you’re basically a normal human being and not a serial killer.

Some of it might be that I really don’t know how to be flirty without being sexy (See Bombshell), especially in messages.  Maybe that says something about me as a person, and the types of guys I attract.  I also believe that guys push the envelope with curvy women because many of them expect us to have lower self-esteem, and therefore have lower standards.  I could show you several examples of the same guy asking a thinner girl on a date and a curvy girl to his bed.  Also, it’s unbelievable how stupid some guys will talk to two girls at one time when the girls are in each others’ pictures.              

If one more guy starts off with “DTF?”, I might explode.  I guess it is men just playing the odds, but in all honesty, I don’t know what self-respecting girl actually responds to that.  Maybe it is just me, but if you really want to “make my panties drop” then take me to drinks or dinner and engage me in meaningful conversation.  Ask questions about me, and at least pretend to care about the answers.  In short, be a man, not some douchy boy-man-lazy-pervert whose idea of making an effort is sending an uber.  

I know many of you are probably thinking, come on it’s Tinder what do you expect.  And some of you are probably wanting to remind me of my own Tinder Adventures, but my mindset has changed.   But I am asking how else am I suppose to meet someone?  Match.com?  I tried that, and men are just as shallow there, so I threw away money for 6 months with no dates.  The old fashioned way?  Well, if you can explain to me how this even relates to our society today then sure I would give it a shot.  I know happy couples who met through Tinder. Apparently it worked for them, so why not me?  

As bad as I am at Tinder, I am going to keep trying.  Why you ask?  Well, I don’t really have any other option do I?  I will never meet anyone if I don’t put myself out there.  Getting a match is a bit of a confidence boost, even if 90% of my matches never talk to me.  At the very least I have seen some of the most hilarious/ disturbing pick up lines, of which I have screenshots for future entertainment.  A friend of mine put it best when she said, “It feels like we have two options, Tinder or dying alone.”  So, Tinder it is   

Relief

Reaching a goal that you never thought was achievable is one of the best feelings in the world.  Whether it is running a marathon, I mean if that’s your thing (aka you're crazy), or something more personal, it is a sense of triumph.  Last week I was able to spend a whole night in the same room with D and not feel a thing.  I didn’t feel jealous, or wonder what he was thinking.  I didn’t give a damn that he was there and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let it ruin my good time.  The moment when I saw him and my heart didn’t skip a beat, and my breath didn’t flee me brought the most gratifying sense of relief.  That was the moment that once and for all I knew, without a doubt, that I don’t love him anymore.   

The thing about love is that it doesn’t just go away because you want it to.  The opposite of love isn’t hate either.  Loving and hating both mean you care.  Apathy is the real opposite of love, the ideal when looking to move on.  My heart stopped hurting a while ago. It hasn’t hurt to breathe when I think about him, and tears haven’t filled my eyes if he happens to cross my mind.  A little part of me thought that was just because I never had to see him,.  I worried that just being in a room with him would make me slip, that my addiction to his attention wasn't gone but just dormant under the surface.  But when I looked at him, all I felt was relief.  I don't love him, and I don’t even hate him.  I just don’t care what he thinks or what he does, as long as he doesn’t talk to me.  

Don’t get me wrong, I still think D is a terrible person, and I hate the things he put me through, but I don’t care enough about him to hate him.  I believe that some day, in one way or another, we all pay for the terrible things that we do.  I also know that I wouldn’t be who I am without struggling through that particular relationship in my life.   I honestly never thought I would get to this place.  I never knew that I would find a way to let all of the angst and tortured part of heart that belonged to him fall away.  It happened, and not because I found some magic combination of heart healing things.  It happened because I started to fill my life with people, activities, and things that made me happy.  Doing things that made me laugh pushed away the tears and the negative thoughts.  With every laugh or good memory made I missed him and hated him a little less.  If you fill your life with real pure love and joy, there eventually isn’t room for the rest.  

I guess I just want anyone out there who can’t see the light at the end of their dark and twisty emotional tunnel, that it is there.  You just have to fill your life with amazing people and positive things and have hope that one day you will feel relief when you realize you don’t care anymore either.        

Falling into Melancholy

Fall is starting to creep in.  The brisk mornings are becoming more frequent and before we know it, we won’t be able to leave home without a jacket.  I love boots and tights, sweaters and dark nails.  I love football Saturdays and Sundays, and the sense of comradery that doesn't seem to be there any other time of year.  The warm aromas of spice, pumpkin, and burning wood in the crisp air are comforting.  There is nothing like melting into your favorite sweater for the first time in months with a glass of red wine in your hand.  My playlists tend to slow down, and my nights in tend to increase.  Fall is the slow beginning to the long cozy winter hibernation.  As much as I love the changing leaves and lack of humidity, I often find myself a little melancholy and don’t quite know why.  

Maybe it is my newly increased age finally sinking in.   Maybe it is my DC anniversary reminding me how long I have been here, and how far away from my career goals I still am.  Or maybe it is because I was two sizes smaller back then, with confidence and a string of boys.  Maybe it is because fall reminds me of some many beginnings, that had such tragic endings.  I have always fallen in love in fall.  I look at all the epic relationships I have ever had, and they all began with the brisk autumn air.    

Daniel shyly asked me to the movies at the fall Hot Air Balloon festival when I was 15. I met Bryan on a cool Mississippi September night my freshman year of college.  Adam sat next to me in my political theory class fall of Sophomore year.  D asked to buy me a drink after trivia one night in October 3 years ago.  Stefan and I spent the fall starting something that I thought was going to be great.  For so long fall was for falling in love, until last year when fall was for falling apart.  

I won’t blame my dark time all on fall, but fall is when I realized how deep I had slipped into an emotional state that I couldn't get out of on my own.  It is when I began the fight back.  The thing about depression is that the downward spiral is the easy part, it’s climbing your way out of it, really dealing with it that is difficult.  It is taking the medications that make you sleepy, dizzy  and kind of numb, and having to share every dark and twisty part of yourself with a licensed professional, who is also still a stranger, that takes everything you have left.  Yes, I am stronger for all of it, but it took the of the magic out of fall for me.  

I want fall to be about wine tastings and brunches.  I want the excitement of a football game or an election night party.  I want to enjoy pumpkin flavored treats while wearing cute sweaters.  I want to flirt with men while talking about bourbon.  I want red lipstick pouts peeking out of scarves.  I want the rush of being walked home from the bar with the man’s jacket over my shoulders to keep warm.  I want fall to be about the twinkle in my eye again.  I am not saying fall has to be for falling in love with a man, but maybe the way to shake this melancholy is to try to fall in love with fall again.              

No More Wedding Blues

I have dreamed about my wedding my entire life.  I would play bride by wearing my flower girl dress from my uncle’s wedding.  I would buy old wedding dresses at garage sales and consignment shops for my dress-up box.  When my grandmother was sick she would buy bridal magazines and we would flip through, cutting out the gowns we loved.  I have been a flower girl twice, a junior bridesmaid once, and a bridesmaid four times so far in my life.  I love weddings, and I have had mine planned since I was probably 7, though many of the details have changed along the years (puffy sleeves and tiaras had to be nixed).  I had no doubt in my mind that I would get married someday - because that is what you do.  You fall in love, get married, and have lots of babies; at least that is what I was always told.

When I went to, or was in a wedding I would think about when I get married … but now I think about IF I get married.  The idea of meeting someone, falling in love, and getting married used to seem just so natural to me, since family members, friends and the hundreds of characters in movies made it seem so seamlessly effortless.  Now, as an adult, I see people on Facebook getting engaged and married and I think “How does that actually happen?”.  I mean it, how do people find love, or how does love decide who is worthy enough to have it.  What makes someone lovable?  

I have shed my delusions that I will 100% get married some day.  Trust me, this has been a hard pill to swallow.  Unlike what I was told as a girl, not everyone gets a chance to be a bride and that is ok.  Not everyone finds the love of their life, or at least not everyone gets to marry them.  Not getting married is not life ending, because I would rather be single than marry someone just to get married.  I don’t want to be the kind of woman that gets a little older and settles for a relationship that is lacking something just to be in a relationship.  I never want to have to give an ultimatum to receive a proposal.  IF I get married, I want it to be to my partner and equal on every level, someone who cannot imagine going a day without me in their life.         

I like to think I was raised to want more than just a husband.  I think my mother sometimes regrets telling me I don’t need a man to be happy because she just assumed that one would fall in love with me anyway.  Now that I am 27, she is worried she was wrong.  She sees the people I grew up with moving back to our small southern town, getting married, and having babies.  What she doesn’t see is that I chose a different path.  I chose the big city, the career, the path less traveled by the women where I am from.  I have built a life for myself that not only doesn’t revolve around a man, it doesn’t even have a man in it.  Arguably I have built a life that might not even have room for a man, but that is an entirely different post.  The truth is, I have built a life that I love, with people that I love.  It hasn’t been easy, and I haven’t always been happy, but that is life, and especially for someone who struggles with depression.

Yes, I sometimes get lonely and crave the physical attention of a man.  Yes, my hopeless romanticism sometimes gets the best of me.  Yes, I sometimes panic that love will never find me, meaning I will never have the opportunity to be a mother.  The thought of never getting the opportunity to shop for a wedding dress with my mother or having that dance with my dad at my wedding makes me sad.  Thinking that I might never know the look the love of my life has on his face the moment he sees me walking down the aisle breaks my heart.  But, at the end of the day, if I never get married I will be ok.  Don’t mistake me, I want all of those things, sometimes so bad it hurts, but if they aren’t in the cards for me I will do more than survive, I will thrive.    

I believe, and maybe it’s because I come from the girl power generation, that your fiends can be the loves of your life.  Maybe it is because of the Spice Girls, Now and Then, and Sex and the City that my real friends are my family, my soul mates.  If I marry or if I am an old spinster Chloe will still be my perfect dinner companion and the most important opinion; Lisa will still keep me grounded in my southern roots; Connor will always help me defuse my mother; BethAnn will still be able to talk me down; May and Farah will always be there to make me laugh; and Bee will always be there to remind me of how far I have come.  On other occasions I have told you about The Many Loves of My Life, but the real loves of my life are those listed above.  They are the people that know my every flaw and love me more because of them.  They know what I look like when I ugly cry; that I get a lazy eye when I am really drunk; that hanger is no laughing matter; and that my confidence is so easily shattered.  

I might never get the chance to say “I Do!” to some dashing man who loves me.  I might never get to put on a beautiful white gown and walk down the aisle.  I might not ever know what it is like to hold a child of my own in my arms.  That doesn’t mean that my life is not valid, that I can’t be happy, and that I haven’t really lived.  I know passion, I know success, I know loyalty, I know love, and I can not think of anything that could make a life more valid, more fulfilling than a life with those things.