the past

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Everything has changed. Jace broke up with me, Babylon moved out, Lila moved in, and I got a new job. I also went through a month-long relationship that ended abruptly last night.

I don’t even know my own life anymore. Everything is different than it was just a few months ago. I have gained a bunch of new friends but some are slowly fading out of my life already. It seems like I barely see my old friends and that they’re pulling away too. I don’t get to ever have my whole life in order. My work life and living situation got better, but now my personal life has gone to shit. And right before the holidays, when it’s hardest for me to function happily.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for the things I have right now. I have a great new job and a good working environment. I have a wonderful new roommate to hang out with in our awesome apartment. And Thomas is finally doing better and not getting sick every day anymore.

But the rest of everything sucks and is kinda unstable at the best of times. I was finally doing a little better and I was less depressed than normal for this time of year. But that all went to shit last night. And now I’m back to being a bitter, lonely, depressed thing.

I need hugs…


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What do you do when you start questioning a choice you thought was already made?

Specifically, I thought I didn’t want kids. For six years I’ve thought this. Then something forced me to actually consider it. And now I don’t know what to choose. I thought I had made up my mind so long ago. But now I’m thinking… It’d be nice to have one.

I thought I couldn’t afford a child. Or support one. I never thought I’d find someone who would actually be a good father.

And then I did.

And it’s made me reconsider everything I’ve thought about children for the last six years. Teaching the students at camp makes me question it a little every year too. Also, while reading Jenny Lawson’s book, I couldn’t help but tear up when she was talking about all her problems when trying to have Hailey. Holding my nephew, Theo, has also put a twang of want into my heart. I always wanted to be “Cool Aunt Jenn”. But now… I kinda want to be “Mom”.

Everything in my life seems to be pointing me to a new direction now. One where I can see a future. One that is past getting married and being childless all my life. One where I see someone I’ve raised turn into an adult. A direction that I’ve never explored, because I’ve been scared. Scared to be responsible for a human life. Scared to commit to something so permanent. But also, scared that I can’t even do any of that. Knowing my family history, I’m not sure if I can have kids, at least not easily. And the thought of letting a husband down like that… is almost overwhelming.

I guess though, if I have a husband who actually loves me, then he won’t hate me for not being able to give him kids. And there’s always the option of adoption, but that’s another big choice and a whole other can of worms.

Having children is a choice I thought I had already made, and to the negative side. But now… I feel like that choice has become more fluid. If I get into a situation where I could have a kid and raise it properly… then I would like to do that. But if I never get into that place, that’s okay too.

Adulting is hard, guys.

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Women have been taught to question themselves incessantly these days. Is what we’re doing okay? Is what we’re feeling the right way to feel? Are we being too sensitive? Are we crazy merely because someone said we are?

This article from the Huffington Post really says it all.

At its base, calling women “crazy” is a way of waving away any behavior that men might find undesirable while simultaneously absolving those same men from responsibility. Why did you break up with her? Well, she was crazy. Said something a woman might find offensive? Stop being so sensitive.

The idea of the “crazy” woman is so vague and nebulous that it can apply to just about any scenario.

“Crazy” has become this all-encompassing word to describe a woman’s behavior. I’ve heard men say I was crazy. Hell, I’ve heard it as why they broke up with me, but that doesn’t mean ANYTHING. Especially when the breakup was mutual or because he couldn’t cope with the normal relationship emotional needs.

I’m not crazy and just because someone says I am something, doesn’t make it true. Sure, I have some emotional issues, but so does everyone. Everyone has baggage. But really, when I think about it, maybe those “issues” are just what society has forced me to think of as problems and maybe they’re just completely normal, female emotions.

I’m not crazy. I’m normal. And there’s nothing anyone can say to change that, because all the proof I need is inside my head, inside my heart, and that’s all I need. Just me.

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After reading Holly’s post from yesterday, I find myself reflecting on my life and, more specifically, my relationships. In the post, she talks about Doug Hutchinson marrying a 16-year-old, but when I first read the title, “When love is more destructive than sex” I really thought it was about something else. The title by itself evoked a feeling from me that I don’t have nearly enough, a feeling that I deserve more than I think I do. And I thought that the post was going to discuss how hurtful it can be when there’s sex without love, but one of the partners is experiencing it as sex WITH love. I was surprised to find I was wrong, but at the same time realized it’d be a good topic for a blog post of my own, especially since I haven’t been serious in awhile.

I’ve had quite the menagerie of relationships in the past decade or so. Many of those relationships were like this:

… idealized, over-dramatic, volatile, impractical, and often destructive. When two teenagers fall in love, they may do stupid things, but they really didn’t know any better.

And then when I hit 16, they changed to more like this:

When I was a teenager, I thought True Love conquered all. I thought if it was really True maybe it would last forever and we’d get married and have babies and a house of our own. I wanted to be by my True Love’s side all the time, damn the damage to the rest of my life–in fact, I even thought the damage was sort of romantic, because it meant I was sacrificing for Love. I thought that True Love means thinking that your Lover is perfect and worshipping them. And if he asked me to do things I didn’t want to (rarely sexual, more often in terms of disrupting my studies and friendships), saying “no” wouldn’t be very Loving, would it?

But around 19 or so, I started dating older men and it was like this:

… being idealized by someone, having them treat you like you’re Edward Cullen and you’re made of unicorn kisses and it’s so cool that you have a car

Currently, my ideas on love are a mash-up of all three. I like men my age, because we can be irresponsible and have fun together and just go nuts, and we can blame it on alcohol and/or being young. I like throwing myself 100 percent into relationships because I know that if I hold something back, and it fails, I’ll think it was my fault for not opening and giving myself to him completely (emotionally, people, jeez). I like older men because they’re more mature, accomplished, stable, and (sometimes) romantic. They usually have steady jobs that will be lifetime careers, a house or apartment of their own, and their ducks are in a row.

The problem with dating guys my age is that they are immature and financially unstable and totally volatile emotionally. But the problem I’ve discovered with dating older men is that they are usually broken. The reason they’re still single is because something fucked up their heart at some point and they just never recovered. Something huge had to have happened to cause it, yet the man usually won’t tell what it was, so it leaves me in constant fear that I’ll do the same thing to him again and that’d be just terrible.

However, no matter what the age difference between me and a partner, I’ve always had a hard time separating sex, love, and infatuation from each other.

Many times, I’ve mistaken infatuation for love and it usually ends a little painfully, but overall it’s okay. We really liked each other and we burnt it out too quickly. Or I really liked him and he tried but just couldn’t so we got really close but then ended it. Or the reverse, he got really close and I couldn’t so I ended it.

The problem scenario for me is, and has been for years, mistaking sex for love. I tend to jump into relationships entirely too quickly, put my whole heart into it, get completely absorbed by him, and just let him completely permeate my existence. Then I allow it to go too far, too fast, and it results in sex before it really should. The problem here is that I then get so emotionally attached because of the sex, I can no longer figure out if the guy likes ME or only certain parts of me. Nor can I establish if I actually like him and am falling in love with him, or if that’s happening just because we had sex. And the worst part: it can’t be undone. Once you tip the scales to involve sex before there’s love, it’s nigh impossible to make love the influential weight, or even to level them out again.

The hurt I’ve felt because someone didn’t love me the way I loved them, or even LIKED them, has been nothing compared to the pain I’ve felt when I realize there’s no love behind the sex. There may be some sort of affection and caring, but it’s not actually love. Though he may say that he loves me, that doesn’t make it true. (Of course, the reverse is also true: If he doesn’t say he loves me, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel that way, though why a guy wouldn’t just say it… boggles the mind.) And though I’ve continually told myself that if I just hang in there, eventually he’ll really love me, I know that it’s a fallacy and that I’m putting myself through more pain than necessary. Yet, I also know from my past experiences that I will do just that. I will always keep going. I will not give up until it’s simply too much to bear.

I will continue to put myself out there 100 percent. I will continue getting pushed around, and hurt, and taken advantage of, and disrespected. I will continue to not get what I want or deserve. But I also will continue having the good times while they last, and enjoying the feeling of being around someone I care about.

If I don’t try, I’ll never know. So yes I’ve “slept on the floor” just to be near someone, and taken off of work to help them with something trivial, and driven an hour to spend 30 minutes with them, just because he wanted me to. I know it’s destructive. I know it’s ridiculous. And I know it’s a volatile way of life, but I also know this:

If I don’t put my whole self into it, and risk putting my heart in his hands, why should I expect him to do the same?

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Pro Tip #2

When a girl mentions in passing that she’s not into all that cliche Valentine’s Day stuff… ignoring it is usually a safe bet.

Case in point:
While talking to Irish a few weeks ago, I had mentioned my Valentine’s Day experience from last year, including how Jay had gotten me everything – teddy bear, balloon, flowers, card, chocolates, etc. – because I had never gotten any of that stuff before. But in that case, it was too little, too late. Damage had been done to the relationship that just couldn’t be undone with cute or tasty gifts.

Well even after hearing that, I received an edible arrangement, teddy bear, and balloon at work yesterday. It was awesome and I was squeeing like a fool. Unfortunately it was after 5 so most people had gone home, but I still texted some friends and ran to my girl upstairs to have a girly squealing fit together. And to share a chocolate covered piece of fruit.

I had already received a box of chocolates from Irish that he had AngryGinger grab for him, and I figured that was all I’d be getting. I was wrong. And I’m glad I was.

Also, when he was making the steaks for dinner (so very delicious), I checked my email and saw he had sent me a gift certificate for so that I can get myself a fox when it comes back in stock. I started squeeing again and ran over and hugged him for ages. It was awesome.

So the safest bet when it comes to Valentine’s, or really any holiday, is to get your girl something small at least, just to show you care. Even if it’s just a card. But if you think she’s more receptive, then go bigger, because it will be appreciated, and you will get hella brownie points.

Even is she says she doesn’t want to exchange gifts, you should still get her something. Saying that you’re not going to get each other gifts on a holiday for financial reasons or something is a TRAP. Better safe than sorry, and in this case it’s better to err on the side of giving too much, to an extent of course. Keep it sweet and simple.

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Immediate Fail

I find the irony and ridiculousness in the fact that mere hours after saying I’ll do shorter, more  focused posts, I write a 1000 word post that rambles. But it was for Grapple, so it’s worth it. And I feel like it really got some things off my chest that I’ve been stressing about and dealing with lately. But I know that even though I’m aware of the problem and essentially why I’m doing it, I won’t stop. Cuz that’d be giving up, which in my world is akin to failure.

I used to say, if you don’t try, you can’t fail. I no longer believe that. If you don’t try, you automatically fail, and I can’t stand that.

Now, when I can’t do something right, I keep pushing myself harder and harder until I can, or at least I hit my limit and find the sane (or slightly insane) place to stop. This has happened with:

  • DDR
  • Guitar Hero
  • weight lifting/gym stuff
  • Dance Central
  • God of War
  • lots of other video games, actually…

Usually, it’s a digital barrier for me, because that is something that is set by a programmer and is not going to get any easier unless I figure out how to do it right.

Also, I got 150 hits yesterday. Beating my previous high (29) 5 times over. Holy crap!

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Grapple asked me a question that I’ve often wondered about myself as well:
Why do I sacrifice so much of myself for others?

I’ve never been able to fully answer this question for myself, let alone for someone else, but here’s my best amalgamation of an answer:

I’m always trying to help people solve the problems in their lives, while putting my own needs on hold. Maybe I feel that helping them could help me. Or if I help them, they’ll appreciate it and feel closer to me, letting me into their heart as I’ve let them into mine. If there is anything at all that I can do for them, I must do it.

I seek approval and reaffirmation of my life. I feel like I have a purpose in life if I help someone. If I don’t do everything possible for them, I’m not fulfilling my purpose and therefore am useless. If what I do is rejected, I’m a failure. I have failed not only myself, but that person as well, and anyone else it could’ve affected.

I want to be loved. I give all of myself to someone, hoping to receive the same in return. But that never happens. No matter how much I give, I’m going to get the same amount back – whatever amount they want to give. I can’t change that, but since I feel it is my purpose to get them to open up, and I continuously fail, I’m a failure and become depressed, causing more feelings of inadequacy and emptiness.

It is an endless cycle of hurt, heartbreak, and frustration.

And I do it constantly. Even now.

Without someone to dote on and cherish and give up everything for, I feel empty, useless, homeless, without purpose. I feel like there is no point to living if I’m not living for someone else. Being their rock, their shepherd, their partner. The one they need.

I want to be needed. Not just loved, but necessary. However, I want to be needed because I’m loved, not loved because I’m needed. I want my partner to realize they can’t live without me because they love me and are in love with me; they need me there just to survive the day-to-day trials, tribulations, and tortures of life; they need be with them to be happy; they need me just to sleep peacefully at night; they love me too much to put into words and express; they just need me. That’s what I want, and it’s something I’ll never have. And although I know that, I’ll continue to want, strive, and hope for it.

I want someone to make me feel like I’m the only one in the world for them, and mean it. I want to be able to take on the world with them, and win. I want to know that I hold their heart, and they hold mine. I want to be able to trust they will never throw me away, and have that trust be proven.

I give because I cannot receive.  In some cases, will not. When someone tries to be open and loving to me, in a way that is greater than what I feel, I shut them out, lock down, and push them away. If I start receiving emotion I haven’t worked for and earned, surely it is too good to be true. Clearly they are lying to me, trying to lure me into something, making me believe them so they can turn sides and trap me against my will. They don’t love me, they only think they do. Because I’m so open and loving and easy to love. If I let myself fall into their open arms, eventually they will drop me. So I run. I run away from the love they try to give that is unwarranted. Undeserved.

I search out those who are cold and closed off to love, so that I may be the one to pry their heart open and let them love again, to have them love me. I want to fix them, for they are broken. I want to change them, to help them better their lives, to teach them how to live. But are they really broken? Or is it me that is actually broken? A puzzle missing a piece – taking every piece I find and trying to shape it properly to fill the void, forcing pieces where they don’t belong – hurting myself in the process of finding my missing element. I continue to work though – pushing harder, shaving off bits of myself to try to make the other fit, twisting every way imaginable to accommodate them.

But it never works. And it never will. My sacrifice is always in vain.

I emerge from the wreckage – broken, beaten, and scarred – and immediately search again.

I realize that the perfect piece to fill the void won’t have to be altered, shaped, and accommodated for. I won’t have to twist and turn and alter myself in order to fit them into my life and my heart. It will just work.

But here’s the kicker: If I sit around and wait for that perfect one, I’ll feel useless and empty, putting myself into a depression in which I cannot open myself to anyone, even that perfect one.

So why do I sacrifice so much of myself for others? It’s all I know how to do, and without it I have nothing. No matter how much I give, I will continue to give more, until I either break down their wall or break down myself. I think it’s obvious which happens more.

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After that whole fandango went down, we were talking about our previous Valentine experiences. I told him how until last year, I hadn’t had the stereotypical gifts on V-Day (candy, card, balloon, bear, etc.), but Jay changed that. And it was stupid and terrible. Also, it was made worse by the fact that I didn’t love him anymore, but that’s beside the point.

I mentioned that other than the gifts, I couldn’t remember V-Day being all that good with Jay. Then he said, “I think WE were together on Valentine’s Day.” This was a huge memory shock. I had almost forgotten about that. We went to Don Pablos for dinner and had the Fajitas for Two Valentine’s Special (which I found amusing, and now ironic) and then we saw Percy Jackson: Lightning Thief. I remember using AngryGinger as my cover story since Jay hated the mere idea of Irish, let alone me being alone with him. And for good reason I guess.

So here we are, and we’ve come full circle. I’m a college grad now, I’m no longer on psych meds, I’m employed at a good company that is actually 9-5, we’re living together, and he’s finally learning to be a boyfriend, kinda.

Life isn’t perfect. It’s an adventure.

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New Things

Oh and just because I feel like I should say something about it, some things have changed on the blog. I added some new widget stuffs, including a hit counter and the email subscription button. Right now, I’m going through my old posts from when I started the blog as “private” and I’ve realized that none of my posts since then have been private. So I’m going back to the older posts that I imported as private and making some of them public. Not all, cuz some are just too juicy for all eyes to read.

Also, it’s snowing. But only til January 4th. So neat.

UPDATE: As of January 3rd, all posts that will become public have done so. I’ve omitted the parts I’m not keen on everyone reading and kept those pieces private.

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Just one more hour to go. And I’ve finished everything I have to get done at work this year. Here’s hoping nothing plops onto my desk at the last minute this time. And as long as I have the appearance of being busy, the girls shouldn’t be shunting anything off onto me. *fingers crossed*

So in the interest of enjoying my new iPad, using the iTunes card my supervisor gave me for Christmas, and also getting back into drawing stuffs, I bought Sketchbook Pro for $3 (normally $8ish) on the App Store, and after seeing reviews for Inspire Pro, bought that too, for $1 (also normally $8ish). And since I know I’m hopeless at drawing with a fingertip, I went ahead and bought a Pogo Stylus on for about $8 (normally $15). I have just received confirmation that it has been delivered and I can pick it up from my doorstep when I get home. So excited to play around with it! I need some drawing ideas though. That was always my biggest problem: inspiration. I can draw from life just fine, but when it comes to drawing randomness from my head… well I suck.  In fact, there’s really not anything random in my head as far as visuals go. Not anymore, if there ever was.

And now I’ve killed enough time that there’s only 45 minutes left til my 3-day weekend starts. Yay.

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