Soul Searching Part 3: Even Pedals

When someone shows you who they are, believe them. -Maya Angelou

I finally came to terms with a truth too painful to say out loud. So I chose to write it down as if the words would sting less when read. I free fell into undoubtedly the most consuming, breathtaking love with someone who confused love with a fix and chose me as his drug of choice, never once stopping to consider the come down only I would experience. I never asked him to love me back, I just wanted him to be honest. Love me or leave me, don't fight for me if you don't want all of me, and after five bloody years of relentless battles, I finally realized I was fighting with myself. My heart and mind having it out for which one made more sense. Does he love me or love me not? But let's be honest, who wants to ever admit that the person they love, doesn't love them back? It's much less difficult to have hope in the fantasy that the person you love, loves you back equally, that the breath-taking feeling inside your chest is shared by the one person who gives it to you. He loves me? He loves me not? Picking the pedals away from my heart, as I try to come to terms with the even amount of pedals on this flower. That last pedal meaning I meant nothing to him. No if's, and's, or but's about it. I was his toy to play with when he got lonely but would all too quickly toss to the floor when he got bored. I was his game away from the court; my heart the ball. After far too many turn overs and never enough steals, I finally realized his intentions were never to hold on to me. His ball handling skills were fine, his heart just wasn't. I thought... I hoped I was irreplaceable, that I meant something to the one who lit up my world, took my breath away, and taught my heart what it is to bleed. But I didn't and wasn't. You know how I know? Because you remember the birthdays of those you care about, you know their major, middle name, and how many siblings they have, you know where they live, where they work, and if they have a dog. You believe them when they tell you their side of the story and defend them when something doesn't add up. And when they tell you they love you, you care enough to tell them if you don't. So after five missed birthdays, far too many assumptions and double standards, I have my answer. He loves me not. He didn't love me back, and that's fine, because I didn't ask for love, I asked for the truth.

Girl Talk Gone Wrong

So let me start by saying that some times I wonder if my best friend lost some screws upstairs, or just wasn't born with them... either way, there are times that I wonder about her. And this morning was one of those times.

I have to first tell you my version of the story... the real version.

The other day, I was on my way to the gym to meet my trainer. I had forgotten to take my vitamins that morning, so I decided "hey, why not take them now, while I'm driving on the freeway. What's the worst that could happen?" okay none of that happened. The only thing that went through my head was "Shit! I forgot to take my vitamins today! I'll take them right now." I had them in this little pill bottle type thing, so without looking, I threw them back like the pill popper that I am and swallowed (with help of some water of course). Well you know how sometimes pills can get stuck at the top of your throat? Yes, that happened. So I took another swig of some water, and BAM unlodged and on its way down my throat... not. All of a sudden, I get a sharp pain at the base of my throat/ top of my chest area. I quickly look into the pill bottle to see the remaining vitamins (I take a lot. Eleven to be exact.) and realize I just swallowed my chewable vitamin C. F*** my life... Eh, I'll be fine. And let me be very clear right now. My chewable vitamin C is about the size of a quarter. It's hard and in order to be digested, it needs to be chewed; hence the name chewable. I was not fine. I start gulping down water like I had just finished an exhausting workout in the desert and my body responded by sending excruciatingly sharp pains into my chest area. I have never in my life felt that much pain. I couldn't breathe it hurt so bad. To alleviate some of the pain, I started screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs. Little did I know, my sunroof was open, so everyone around me probably heard my anguish loud and clear since we were in typical Los Angeles rush hour traffic. After close to an hour of this, the pill either dissolved or reached the bottom of my esophagus and plopped into my stomach. No aftermath, I am alive and well, and a little smarter. Never swallow that big of a pill again. Always look at what I am throwing into my mouth.

So last night, I call my best friend to tell her my horrific experience, really only to laugh at how funny it was. This was her interpretation of the event on her blog this morning: 

girl talk

I was talking to a girl friend last night when this came up in our conversation:

Friend: "Okay, I have this story to tell you that I think is so funny. Actually it's not that funny, but it's super dramatic. So I was in the car on my way to my training session (translation - working out with a physical trainer) and I got out my little vitamin case so I could take them before I got there. I swallowed one and for some reason it hurt so bad in my throat, like it was stuck or something. So I looked down and saw that my giant gummy vitamin was missing and it all made sense to me after that... I swallowed my chewable vitamin and it was seriously stuck in my throat for like an hour. For the rest of the car ride I just sat there screaming cuss words at the top of my lungs because it hurt that bad. And then I realized that my sunroof was open, so everyone at all the stop lights heard me screaming obscenities to myself, which probably explains all the looks I was getting."

Me, in my head: Wait... so you're telling me that you still take gummy vitamins?? Cool.

Me: "That's why we're friends."

Wait, whaaaaaat? Worst interpretation I have ever heard in my entire life. I wonder what other stories of mine she has retold and massacred like she did this one. Most importantly tho, GUMMY vitamin? What am I five years old still? (secretly, I wish all of my vitamins were gummy vitamins. I love those things.) She really thought a gummy got painfully lodged in my throat for over an hour.... I'll let that sink in.

Needless to say, this is one of those moments when I wonder what's really going on in that brain of hers, if anything at all. But nonetheless, I love the hell out of her even if she is a little, you know o.o and am quite proud of her with everything she has accomplished. One being her blog! (read in a singing voice) You, my friend, should check it out! :) www.missalexanavarro.com You won't be disappointed. And let's be honest, her version of the story was so much better than mine, which is why I can't even be mad at her. ;)

"That is why we're friends."

Growing Old

I've been seriously nostalgic about my parents lately. I was talking to a friend the other day about how bad I feel because I know they want to retire soon, but that's just not in the cards for our family. They're approaching that age when most of their friends are starting to do so, and they're left working 50 hour weeks. Yes, they love their jobs, but there's something simplistically satisfying about the idea of being able to wake up to the sound of birds every morning and sip coffee on the porch while reminiscing about how great their daughter has been and continues to be ;p In all seriousness tho, they desire to one day not have to work, but one day isn't any time soon.

They'll be approaching the ripe old age of 70 in 6-7 years... 70. Se-ven-ty. They'll..be..seventy soon. No matter how many times I say it or how slowly or emphatically, the sting is just as caustic; they'll be 70 before I know it. That reality hit me like a ton of bricks, knocked me off my solo stool, and clenched itself around my heart with a grip like the hulk. Seventy? Where has the time gone? Is it selfish to say that I'm mad at them for it? For waiting so long to have me? Living life, pursuing passions, falling in love with the right person, before having me and becoming people I truly treasure? And there I go climbing back up onto my solo stool, blaming them for this discomforting fear inside my chest. Yes, it is exceedingly, embarrassingly selfish. But I'm being honest. I don't want to lose them.

The thought makes me sick to my stomach, the overwhelming dread of an impending loss. I literally want to breakdown into a whimpering mess when I think about it. I've gotten so close to both of them and I treasure our relationships deeply. I don't know how I'd deal without them. The image I have of myself as this independent, grown up, successful young woman crumbles into a helpless child crying because she wants to be held and needs to be fed.Who am I going to call when I'm sick? Who am I going to call to share my accomplishments and proud moments with? Who am I going to call when I need grownup advice on adult issues I've never had to deal with? Who am I going to call momma chick and daddy do, momma and father dear? What am I going to do when I can't be a daughter anymore?

The hardest part is living 1000 miles away from them. Never once have I hated this distance. It's always been a relief, a luxury to escape and live life away from the bird's nest. Grow my own wings, build my own nest. I never thought I'd have to return to a vacant desolate home with only memories to fill that void. I just want to hug them and never let go. Wrap my distressed arms around them until they laugh the awkward "why are you still hugging me, you creep" laugh and playfully push me away. Walk into their rooms and demand their attention by claiming neediness. Kidnap them and force them to spend the day with me, playing it off as a shopping spree for yours truly. Quality time with the people who sacrificed so much for their little chick.

I'm left with text messages and phone calls to satisfy this need to make memories before that's all I have.
I spoke to my dad about it briefly last night, tears dripping down my cheek, holding back the streams and trying to act strong to a man who has no shame in showing me his weaknesses.

I think that's how I'm going to get through this. Honest vulnerability with two people who hold such unique special places in my heart. Pursuing quality conversation and planning trips with no excuses. And never missing an opportunity to snap shot a memory onto film. Before it's too late.


Love your parents. We are so busy growing up; we often forget they are growing old. - unknown.

A Day Away

This post is partially designed to make you jealous and partially made because I made a vow to refocus. But let's be honest, the former is so much better of a reason ;)

With no further a do, I am currently sitting on the white sandy beaches of Spain, drinking a refreshing piña colada daiquiri, listening to the waves crash, and soaking up this warm Spanish sun. Just kidding -__- I only wish that's where I was! But I am sitting on the edge of the West Coast, looking out at the Pacific Ocean dreaming of doing exactly what I'm doing. Pretty great isn't it? Jealous aren't you? ;)

I would post pictures to make your eyes even more green with envy, but I don't know how o_O and a little birdy I call my best friend has been too busy flying her own wings. *cough cough* HELP ME OVER HERE! D; (it's all love. I'm in no rush.) but I do warn you, when I learn, there may or may not be an explosion of pictures all over my blog. Just a warning. 0:)

Okay but really, this day I promised to myself has been nothing short of absolutely beautifully relaxing. The people who came to the beach all had the same idea I did, quiet relaxation. I have never been to a more peaceful beach. All I can hear is the water peacefully kissing the sand with it's waves, promising to return a few moments later. Ahhh the sound, there really is nothing like it. The skies are blue, not a cloud in sight. I never want to leave. Maybe I don't have to!! I could live here! Be a beach bum forever! Yeah?! ... Okay, fine. I'll stop dreaming of a life I really don't want. Instead, I'll lay here and work on this poetry piece I've been struggling to write. Mark my words, this piece in the works is going to be a masterpiece, I promise.

Until next time.

Refocusing

Hello! It's been way too long!

It's actually been about a month and a half since my last post and I can honestly say, I miss this. I got so caught up in my hectic life I forgot to live. For the last month or so, my life has consisted of work, work number 2, working out, meal preparation, eating/sleeping. I combine the last two because those were very much so after thoughts. Although I am quite happy with the results this working out and meal preparation has done for me, the side effects of working 70 hour weeks are not so great. I wandered around my apartment a couple days and almost had a full blown anxiety attack at how messy it was (and still is for honesty sake). Wtf happened in here?! What is this shit all over my floor, counters, desk, and table?! It took me about a half of a millisecond to realize what happened in my sacred sleeping quarters. Life happened.

I have been so over consumed with the busyness my life has created that I literally have forgotten the most important little things that make my life so uniquely beautiful. Like a clean house, fluffy cool pillows to lay my weary head down on and enjoy a nice spring morning waking only to the sweet songs of the feathered creatures fluttering outside my windows, a quality page turner with an almost too soft to be real blanket and a hot cup of my favorite tea to get lost in, or this blog! My writing! It's been no where to be found. My day to day thoughts lost in the fleeting moments of "I'm busy". Damn my current priorities.

I'm in need of a shift. A shift back to the life that made me simply smile softly with the thought of how perfectly happy I was with my life. A shift back to when I had a hold on my goals and dreams and was taking small but continuous steps in the direction I needed to go. A shift back to a time when I was constantly self-checking, soul-searching, and mind/heart expressing on a moment to moment basis, simply so that I could enjoy every breath I was taking to the utmost fullest. Back to a time when I was living and loving my way through my life, not working, sweating, and complaining my way through it. Not that I'm not working or sweating when I'm living and loving because I most definitely am, but instead of complaining, I need to be smiling.

Happiness is a perspective. I made a promise to myself a while back to never lose sight of what happiness is, and as you would have it, I've lost it for a while. The good thing is a small dose of some fascinating poetry is all I ever need to refocus, which I had the wonderful opportunity to experience at Mic & Dim Lights in Pomona, Ca last night (if any of you are around that area, I strongly suggest you check it out one of these days).

So as I sit here and try to refocus my life to the better days of loving life, pursuing knowledge, watching intently, dancing freely, writing sincerely, and letting the music move my soul; I am renewing my promise of living life with a purpose. A purpose that no matter my current situation, happiness is just a perspective shift away.

Soul Searching Part 2: A Lost Dream

I never understood why people were happy to hear me say that I've realized I want something different, that he's become everything I have ever wanted, everything I knew he would become, the potential I saw in him, reached but that's no longer what I want anymore. Everything he embodies is beautiful, great, admirable, and inspiring, it's just not my idea of those things. People were excited to here me say those words, but it only left me feeling empty, sad, depressed, heartbroken. I couldn't wrap my mind around their excitement; their smiles were so effortless, while my tears were a struggle to hold back. All I felt was sadness. I felt like I had missed out on something so special because it's too late now; I am in love with someone I no longer desire. 

I think I get it now. I miss him, I do. But most of all, I miss the memories, the feelings, his laugh and embrace. I'm sad to see that go. He's changed and so have I. We're not meant to be together, and that's fine. I'm happy for him and his new lifestyle, and I wouldn't change mine for the world. I just never would have thought it'd end up this way. There's a lost hope in that, a lost dream. I guess that's what I'm grieving. I'm not mourning a lost love, that will always be there; I will always love him. It will just be from a distance, that I've chosen to create. Two different lives met for a time, shared a love; he changed my world and deepened my heart. He will always be special to me and make me smile. And I think for a long time, I wanted him to be the only one to be able to do that. My one and only. Now I've realized that's not the case. I desire something different, someone different. It's an interesting feeling. My heart wants it to be him, but slowly it's learning it won't be. He won't be what makes me ultimately happy. He holds such a special place in my heart that will never be replaced, but he belongs there as a memory, not as a future plan. And that's okay, well I'm learning to be okay with it. Grieving a lost dream is quite hard, I must admit. 

Shackled

I was told to write an honest poem; honest? I’ve never understood why honesty was so difficult. I tend to pride myself on my ability to be honest and truthful. It’s almost second nature to me. My best friend used to always ask my opinion of what she was wearing because she knew I wouldn’t lie. “How’s my outfit?” “Hmm. I don’t like those jeans. They make your butt look saggy.” Harsh right? I guess I’d just rather tell the truth and it hurt, then tell a lie and cause that person to be mistakenly happy. As I stand here and ponder the meaning of honesty, my pride rock starts to crumble into the elephant graveyard full of skeletons I don’t even let myself explore. I’ve recently realized I struggle deeply with honesty when it’s just me and a mirror reflection I’m not proud of. I tend to make excuses or justifications, I skate around the core issue because sometimes it seems less painful. But if I was to be honest, I struggle with honesty the most when I have everything to lose. I’m talking the intangibles. My pespected identity, my heart, my life, a friend. I get so caught up in the what if’s that I forget about the what is. I let my fear of a potential loss get in the way of an opportunity to experience change, love, and ultimately life. It’s like quick sand, the more I think, the deeper I sink, into an inescapable pit of paralyzing doubts. I can’t quit my job, what if I don’t find another one soon enough? I can’t tell my manager what I think I deserve, what if she fires me? I can’t tell him how I feel, what if he doesn’t feel the same way? I can’t, I can’t, I can’t… quickly become I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish I would have been courageous enough to jump into the ocean of the unknown and undiscovered. It might have been dangerous, treacherous, and life threatening, and I’m sure I would have walked away with some pretty distressing bruises and permanent scars from being violently tossed around in the unyielding sea, but at least I would never have had to ask, “what if I had…” Experience is worth every scar because when you’re strong enough to turn that scar into a lesson, the tapestry your life is creating becomes all the more magnificent. So, as I stand here with my skeletons talking about a character trait I thought I embodied, the ghosts of my missed opportunities haunt me with this life-altering truth. Honesty is the key to the shackles clenched around my neck, holding me captive to a life full of fear. Until I can be honest, I am a slave to that mirror reflection I’m not proud of. The truth will always set me free.