Letter to My Future

As I have watched my parents relationship fracture and crumble, I have seen the man my father truly is.  As the lies are exposed and the rose colored glasses are removed, I wonder if I will ever be able to trust a man fully again.  How do I continue to believe in love when my example of love is broken?  Somehow I still have hope that someone is out there for me, and if they are, I have a few things to say to them.   

Hello,

I am not sure if you are out there looking for me, or if we have already met.  Maybe you are still sowing your wild oats, and that is ok.  When we make our way to each other I want you to be ready.  We won’t be young and stupid or trapping each other.  I want us to choose each other.  I want you to see my flaws with open eyes and love me because I am not perfect, not in spite of it.   

Be forewarned, I come with baggage.  I have spent my life being an afterthought for the men in my life, neglected and ignored.  Make me a priority, because you will always be my priority.  Hold my hand when we are walking through a crowd so that I never feel lost.  Never hush me or try to dampen my light because you never want me to feel small. Learn the small things about me, like how I take my coffee or what I want on my hamburger.  Those small everyday things are more important than the big romantic gestures to me.  I would rather you really know me than have the big social media worthy moments.

Accept my eccentricity, they are what make me interesting and who I am.  It took me a long time to not hide behind pearls, a southern accent , and a smile.  I am not ashamed of my fandoms, or all the cat pictures on my phone.  Embrace the things that bring me joy, even if you don’t understand them.  I will always embrace the things that make you you.  Make an effort to get to know my friends; they are my chosen family and aren’t going anywhere.     

It doesn’t all fall on you.  I promise to tell you how I feel instead of internalizing things.  I will listen and pay attention to you, because what you say matters to me.  Laughter will be something I strive for with you every day because I want you to be my best friend. I know we have both been independent for a long time and will respect that we need our own space.  I never want us to lose who we are as individuals just because we are together as a couple.     

I am waiting for you because I know our love will be worth it.  I won’t settle for someone else out of fear you might not come or impatience that you are taking too long.  Actually, I will never let fear or insecurities drive our relationship.  I have watched what fear of being alone can do to a marriage over 38 years.  We will not be my parents. I will remember you are not my father.  

While I wait, I will let life happen, but know I am ready when you are.  

Until we find each other,

H   

Four Years, How Far We Have Come

Four years ago, I said hello to the blogosphere, not quite sure where this would go or what I would be willing to share.  I liked writing, and I knew that it was something I really felt like I needed to take the time to develop.  I thought I would write witty posts about the things I was obsessed with, or jazz up the stories about my drunken nights to entertain.  I wrote those things, but I also began to write about the boys who would pop up in my life.  Some of it was sexscapades, but I also began to write about my heartbreaks, the twisted relationships that, good or bad, were beginning to shape me.  I began to pour my soul out every time I took to the keys.  Soon, I couldn’t decipher how I really felt until I was able to write about it.  

I surprised myself with how much I was willing to share.  When I would begin to write, my heart would open, my words didn’t filter, I said things I wouldn’t have the courage to say out loud.  I shared my sordid inappropriate, unhealthy, non-relationship with D.  It was on this page that I admitted to myself and all of you that I loved D, and it was on this page I finally let go, let him go.  

When my life turned dark and twisty, I wrote about my depression.  I wrote about going to therapy, and the things I did to work my way out of the dark hole  I had found myself in.  This blog became a place of self-discovery.  Even if I had to learn the same lesson over and over again, I found it cathartic.  As friendships crumbled and other grew I could write about it all here.  Even if no one was out there reading it, it was the process of writing that mattered.  Putting words together, yielding them into something worth reading or that can make people feel holds a certain power.   

Over the years I have had moments in my life when it was difficult to find the words.  When I lost people I loved to suicide and cancer, the grief was too much, too big to fit on a page.  If I am honest, it was something I had to own by myself for a while before I could share it.  Putting how I felt about losing my grandfather into a post just made it feel so definite, so much smaller than the feeling that engulfed me.  I also couldn’t bring myself to write about anything else, until I wrote about such a huge moment I couldn’t write about what else was happening in my life either.

My self-image, my confidence in who I am has faltered over the years.  It’s a struggle I have had since I was young, and it took a lot to share that with all of you, to write about eating disorders, bullying, and my own self-hatred.  I felt it was important, to share my struggles in case someone else might be going through something similar.  Something I have learned is, for people like me, loving yourself is a daily battle.  You have to take the world one day at a time.  Body image is much more of an inward struggle than an outward one.  

I am a mess.  I have always been a mess, but after 4 years of writing about all the moments that contribute to the making of me, I am a much more self-aware mess.    

Who am I now?  I am a strong Southern woman who is fastly approaching 29 (Eeek, panic!).  I work very hard at a job I like, even when it stresses me out to the point of tears (about once a week).  My family and friends are the most important thing in my life.  I would do anything for the people I care about, I mean like the person you call if you had a dead body to get rid of type of friend.  I make mistakes, lots of them, especially where men are concerned.  I want people to like me, a habit that I am trying desperately to break, but it is true I like to be liked.  I am not particularly funny, at least not on purpose.  I am a huge nerd!  I fangirl over all the things: Doctor Who, Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, all the superhero shows.  That is probably because I am passionate, I love with all that I am, I feel very deeply.  All I want is what I what I think most people want out of life: to be happy and to be loved.

I want to say thank you for reading my melodramatic ramblings.  It has been a rollercoaster of emotions over the past four years, and I appreciate you taking the time to read what I have to say, and for allowing me to find my voice.  

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.  

   

Chosen Family

I read an article on Buzzfeed today about why gay men love The Golden Girls.  There were a lot of fascinating points to why gay men relate to the show, but one that resonated with me in particular is the idea of the “Chosen Family”.  These women were not only friends; they became family to one another - a family that each of them constructed for themselves.  As a single career woman in my mid-twenties living 17 hours from my biological family, I have also developed a chosen family.  

I think several of the most unforgettable television shows are those that create this idea that friends are your family: loyal, caring, irreplaceable, and ever so slightly crazy.  Think about Will and Grace, Friends, Sex and The City: these are shows that helped shape the way generations look at friendship.  They are the standard to which much of our society judges true friendship, and the blueprints to creating a chosen family of their own.   

I am a person who is loyal to a fault.  I build a lot of walls around myself, and if I let you in and trust you completely, then you can expect my unadulterated friendship, you are now family.  These are the people that pour you another glass of wine and hide your keys when you lose your job.  The people who text you during your mutually adored shows, edit your blog posts, and gchat you at work all day.  These are the people who would punch your cheating ex in the nose if they ever run into them again, or at least say they would on a regular bases.  The people who can make you laugh with a look, and don’t flinch when you burst into tears for no apparent reason.  These are the people that know all your physical and emotional scars and love you because of them, instead of inspite of them.  This is a chosen family.  

I take great care to construct the best possible chosen family.  To let the right people in, but when you depend on someone you are always leaving the door open for disappointment.   When someone you love hurts you, it never gets easier.  When it is a friend, a member of your chosen family, the cut runs deeper.  This is the person with whom you are supposed to be in the trenches of life, not the person that hits you with a grenade leaving you bloody and broken.  The thing about family, even the chosen kind, is that you love each other enough to get past the things that have wounded you, at least you should be able to.  A chosen family member, unlike a biological one, always has a moment when they prove they are family.  There is a test of your friendship and sometimes you realize they weren’t family at all.  It is the people that will weather the storm with you who deserve the designation, the one who knows you, what will hurt you, and when you don’t mean the terrible things that you said.  Those are deserving, the elite, the chosen ones.  

When someone says a member of your family is a jackass, and it might be true, but they are your jackass and no one else gets to call them that!  In my case, I am everyone’s over dramatic “emotional time bomb,” but my family will stick up for me because I am their ticking time bomb.   No one gets to talk shit about your family but you, end of story.  

I love my chosen family!  The people that have been to the bottom of the bottle and back with me.  I would not have survived my 3 ½ years in DC without them, and I know I can not survive moving forward without them by my side either!  To Chloe, Lisa, Elle, and Conner: thank you for being my chosen family, for seeing me and loving me at my worst, for accepting my eccentric ways, and knowing that I am always just a phone call away.  I love each of you more than you will ever know!          

Young, Wild, and Free

As summer approaches and the air gets warmer I find myself more likely to take risks. To let go of my inhibitions and accept the fact that although I am not 21 anymore I am still young, I can still be wild, and I am free.  I can flirt with a 22 year old if I want to.  I can close the neighborhood bar with my friends on the weekends and not feel bad.  I can drink beer in peoples backyards and enjoy the beautiful weather.    

For the first time in a long time I don’t feel the pressures of getting older weighing heavily on me.  I don’t feel the pressure to get married looming over my head.  I feel like it is ok to be 25 (almost 26) and not settled down.  Don’t get me wrong, I am an adult with a great job and a clean, well kept apartment.  I just now know that I don’t have to be sad that I haven’t found my soulmate.  That it is ok to look forward to beach trips that will revel college spring breaks; spiked watermelons and boozey popsicles: and Sunday-fun-days with the “Family.”

With Memorial Day, the unofficial start of summer, passed us I have decided to make my summer check list.  These are the things I want to do or should do, because it is too soon to give up on being fun.

 

• Make a Flabongo … don’t know what that is? Let me show you!

 

• Get a wonderful golden tan!
• Enjoy wonderful Boozy Watermelons every chance I get!

• Make tons of Summer Play List for all different reasons: Beach Mix, Dance Mix, Backyard Mix, Pool Mix, Bar Mix … I want all the music!
• Grill out as much as possible and grill everything!  Whole meals from the Grill!
  
• Have a summer fling!  I mean a fun, care-free romance with someone that will never make it once the rays of summer fade.  I want something exciting, simple, and great while it lasts.  
• Go on lots of adventures …. anything from White Water Rafting, tubing down a river, hiking (not likely), and I don’t know just ADVENTURES!!!!
• Do a power hour with my friends!  I haven’t done one of these since college, but what says young and wild like this crazy drinking game?  (we won’t discuss the Hangovers and how not young they make me feel afterwards)
• Make lasting memories!  I want this summer to be one for the record books, one that I will tell my kids about someday (when they are like 30).  

Let the epic summer begin!  It is time for me to stop acting like my life is already over, and start living it!