Lessons

Lessons, lessons, lessons. Single file line, please. I can’t take all of you at the same time… or can I?

*Sigh*

Life is truly a beautiful catastrophe, isn’t it? Each painful event, if given enough time (and honest reflection) can become such a magnificent story. There’s a lesson to be learned there. I’ll repeat the statement without all the fluffy wording. Everything bad can become good if an adequate amount of time and honest hard work is put into it.

Events are neither good nor bad, they are simply events. It is us who determines the positivity or negativity each event will hold. Isn’t that empowering? To know that we hold the key to our own happiness? And it starts with a simple perspective shift, a mind-blowing one at that. Let me give an example…

Now, please listen to me carefully and with an open heart, because what I’m about to say isn’t necessarily politically correct. I am going to use my own personal experience, so no one can tell me I’m wrong. ;) 

When I was raped, my entire life flipped upside down, and not in the Fresh Prince of Bel Air type of way we all secretly hope for. The window I saw my world through shattered into a million irreparable pieces. Now, if I were to take those pieces and create a world around me of brokenness and hatred, I would have been choosing to let a simple event negatively affect my life, thus making the event a negative one. On the other hand, if I was to mold those broken pieces into something extraordinarily wonderful, the event would have been a catalyst for something positive, thus making it a positive event.

Now let me explain this fascinating window I now see life through. This particular event in my life was without regret, one of the most monumental experiences of my entire life. The reason for it’s importance is, as I said before, it dramatically altered the way I view life. Life isn’t meant to be survived, it’s meant to be created. I am not a victim, and I am certainly not powerless. I am the opposite. I choose how my life is going to play out, and I choose how each event within my life is going to affect me, whether it is going to be positive or negative. Meaning, each event is neutral. Now if each event is neutral, how do I explain the very real trauma I experienced when I was raped?

It wasn’t the event of rape itself; it was the fact that I could no longer hold my perspective of life as valid and true. My viewpoint no longer made sense, life no longer made sense. How could someone do such a despicable act to someone else, to me? The purity of life was gone, the idea that each person is inherently good and would never purposefully inflict pain onto someone else was lost in the broken window. How was I supposed to forgive someone like him? Someone as low as that?

This answer might not be the one you’re looking for, but it’s the one I found to be the most enlightening and life changing.

By realizing that he is a human being, just like me. He makes mistakes, just like I do. He hurts people, just like I do. And if I were to be given his life, with his mind, his body, his talents, and his weaknesses, would I have honestly done anything different?

The answer is no, I would have done the exact same thing as he did…

Talk about a big pill to swallow.

*Ahhh*

Peace, for the first time in years. Swallowing that “pill” means more than just an understanding of other humans. It means the millions of unfixable pieces of glass that lay on the floor next to my feet can be melted down and molded into a much more breath-taking window, with an even better view. It means I no longer am “a girl that was raped and overcame it.” I am a human being, with a life full of lessons ready to be learned.

When life becomes a series of lessons instead of a series of events, the value of each moment increases as the attachment to them decreases. And in those moments, there is freedom. True unyielding freedom. 

My Why

So I want everyone to think back to when they were five. The dreams you had of who you were going to be when you grew up. Michael Jordan comes to mind at least for me. Why not a great basketball player? I think because at a young age we knew the difference between being something and becoming someone. Michael Jordan was not only an incredible athlete but an incredible man. An amazing role model, on and off the court. Now take away all the extra details of who you wanted to be, and what are we left with? An idea of a legacy, a role model, an imprint left on this world. That's what we all wanted to be. Great. Now I want you to visualize going back in time to when you were five. Imagine your five year old self running up to you calling your name, saying, "who are we? Who did we become? What are we doing?" Now imagine your answer being "nobody. Nothing. We aren't doing anything." "What why not?" "Well it was just too hard." Now try explaining to your hope-filled five year old self your reasons for giving up. It doesn't feel so good does it? You know why? Because when you were five, there was no such thing as too hard. Your vision of who you were going to become had no strings attached or restrictions. It just was. So why isn't it now? I think it's easy to forget our why because it's not right in front of us. We don't see it. But imagine every time you come home from work, your five year old self is waiting at the door begging you to tell you what you've accomplished today. Because in all reality, that's exactly what happens. Every single night when you lay your head down on your pillow, you're faced with yourself. Your dreams, wishes, and goals. Don't let the fears, worries, and struggles of your everyday life defer you from becoming who you've always wanted to be. Now there's a reason I keep saying who and not what. Because what is physical but who is not.What can be taken away from you. Whocan never be taken from you. Who you are is determinate solely on you. No one else. Yes, I can't wait to own five houses, a yacht, an island, be a consultant, retire my parents, travel the world in my own private jet. Yes, those are all things that motivate me and keep me focused. But every single one of those things can be taken from me. My houses could burn down, my island could disappear, I could go bankrupt and my businesses could go under. But the only thing that can never be taken from me is who I want to become. My ideal self. That's my why. That's what I have to come home to every night when my five year old self wants to know if I'm one step closer. Let's make sure that today we can go home confidently. Knowing we gave today our 100% and are one step closer to becoming who we've always dreamed of being.

The Perfect-Feeling

Perfect is not an adjective describing feeling in the title above; perfect is a compound noun with feeling. It’s not the perfect feeling. It’s the perfect-feeling; the feeling of perfect. Not perfection; perfect. If perfect could it felt, it would be this feeling.

Have you felt it before? The perfect-feeling?

I have. And boy is it… perfect.

There is literally no other way to describe the feeling I am talking about; there is no butterflies or rapid heart rates, sweaty palms or random smiles. There is no mind lapses or gitty laughter. There is only the knowledge that at that very moment, everything is perfect. You don’t have to try to be happy or joyful, positive or content. You just are. There is no effort. You are at peace with everything going on in your mind, heart, body, and soul. You are whole.

The feeling doesn’t last longer than a couple of hours, a couple days max. But in those moments, it is… perfect. No other feeling comes close. Not excitement of surprise, laughter until your stomach hurts and eyes tear up, relief of an overwhelming stressor, joy or happiness, not even love. It’s deeper than that, deeper than love. It is every good feeling happening at the exact same moment. It is pure and untainted.

Now that you know the feeling I am talking about-whether you’ve felt it first hand or just get the idea from my description, I want you to honestly ask yourself this question…

Would you want to give that feeling up? Never feel it again (as far as you know)? Let it go; walk away from it?

I wouldn’t, and I don’t want to. Therein lies my struggle. The source of my perfect-feeling isn’t good for me, isn’t what I deserve or ultimately desire, and isn’t going to give me what I need. So by definition, it shouldn’t give me that feeling, should it? But the truth of the matter is, that it does, more than anything or anyone else. But the problem is that it has the potential of becoming toxic. So if I had my best interest in mind, I should give it up, chose to not feel whole, perfect, or effortless again. But, I don’t want to, and I don’t know how to do something I don’t want to do.

I Have A Confession

Ahhh. I have a slight confession >.< you have to promise not to judge me tho. Kay? Promise?

Okay, here it goes… ……………….. o.o 

Okay, okay…

The first and only NBA basketball game I sat and intentionally watched from beginning to end (with a small break to get food) all season was the Championship game (Heat vs. Spurs) last Thursday night D; I know, I know. I’m going to hell. D; 

There’s more… :’(

I have absolutely NO idea what this last season entailed. Who played great this season; who played horrible; which team had the best defense; which team had the worst offense; which team had the best potential but was stifled by the coach; which… anything! I would not be able to carry on an intelligent conversation about this past NBA season with anyone. Key word intelligent. I could still hold my own with any of those posers **cough** bandwagoners, girls trying to impress boys, boys trying to be men **cough**. Yeah, I said it. I wouldn’t tho! What happened to me this last year?! D;

It makes me just as anxious as not writing does. Basketball is my first love and will forever be my first love. Dancing, writing, and music all come in a close second. But basketball… there’s nothing like it. The screeching of Nike’s on the court, the swishing of the net, the bouncing of the ball, even the smell of the jerseys and buzzing of the shot clock. An empty basketball court is a sanctuary for my soul.

Welp, now that that’s out >.<

I need to write. I need to write. I need to write.

I get this strange sense of anxiety when I think about how much time has passed since I’ve let my fingers express my most inner thoughts. Since I’ve gone back to what keeps me alive, sat and took in the beauty around me. My sanctuaries. Empty basketball courts, empty dance rooms, empty stages, and empty sheets of paper.

There seems to be a gap between what I desire and what I want. I want to watch the new episode of Pretty Little Liars. I want to catch up on Dexter. I want to watch the new season of Criminal Minds… I’ll spare you the rest of my embarrassing TV show addictions. I want to online window shop. I want to play a game. I want to browse through pinterest, scroll through Facebook and Instagram (no Twitter for me. I think it’s more idiotic than fb and ig).

I desire to read more, study more, watch more documentaries, follow basketball more, dance more, and most importantly write more. Buuuut… I don’t. I always find myself wasting away the little bit of me-time I have zoning out to a senseless show, website, or game. I rarely spend thirty minutes, let alone a couple hours (like I had promised myself I would start doing) doing any of the things I desire to do.

I could sit here and give this big long philosophically sounding explanation to why I keep doing what I want and not what I desire, but it doesn’t have to be that complicated. I don’t do what I desire because I’m a coward. I’m scared of change, of becoming great, of reaching my potential… there I go with my philosophically sounding explanation. Ha. How ironic. But it’s the truth. I am too much of a coward to do the things I desire and apply myself full-heartedly to any of the things I know will make me the person I should become one day. The reasons are simple, no need for an in-depth look at my subconscious. 

Or maybe they’re not that simple. I know I’m scared, but why? Now that’s a question I can’t answer right now.

Ugh.

It finally happened. The long awaited breakdown that has been looming over my head for the last month and a half has finally decided to send its thunderstorms and torrential rain pour my way. And of course it had to happen at such an inconvenient time, an hour before I have to work. Thank you emotions, thank you.

Have you ever wanted to just start over? New name, new looks, new city, new job, new friends, a new life, a new everything? I have. At least a thousand times. The only thing that has ever stopped me cold dead in my tracks has been the memories of the life I would be leaving behind. I would miss my friends, my city, my life; and that right there is the sole reason that’s been holding me captive to my current life. From packing up my bags and singing “sayonara” as I rush to the closest airport and jump on the next available flight. Seriously. How great would that be? A brand new life. No emotional baggage to lug around, no mistakes to hide away from, no unnecessary carry-on items that really serve no purpose other than to add clutter to an already full plane.

I often wonder if I would ever be able to really do something like that. Realize my life is solely my life and all I have to do is pick up and go. The freedom I would have, the pure bliss of a perfectly me chosen life.

I know, I know... I do have that freedom. My life is my life. But for some reason, I don’t know how to live that way. I still lug around baggage and deal with the nonsense I’ve let my life create that I so easily lose sight of what my life really is all about. And yes, I am currently blind, nose-diving into a self-perpetuated pity fest. Sorry about it. My mind goes at too many miles per second as I sit and ponder my life. I get frustrated, scared, sad, happy, discouraged, inspired, downtrodden all at the exact same time. Which I’m doing at this exact moment as I stare aimlessly into my computer screen trying to formulate a thought that could possibly make enough sense to type into a readable sentence… did that even make sense?

Oh well. I give up. I have to go to work.

In A Rut

I swear I have a midlife crisis at least once a week. What am I doing with my life, what have I changed, what can I fix, what do I need to do better. Literally at least once a week. I could sit here and play the stupid game of wondering why I have these all the time, but I’m not going to.

I know why. Because I’m not changing anything. I’m not fixing my diet; I’m not writing more; I’m not reading more; I’m not applying/researching/educating more; I’m not doing anything more. I am simply getting by. And I hate it. I’m so unhappy with my current situation. Not necessarily because it’s a bad situation but because I’m not doing anything to change it. I can’t really explain to you why I have such a serious lack of motivation, but I do and that in itself needs to change. I’ve tried the whole “today is a new day; let’s start fresh” and then I’m back to doing the same old shit. Ugh, I hate to say it, but I am officially in a rut.

I think I’m scared of change. I want a new job, but I’m scared of what it’ll actually look like. I want a higher education; but I’m scared of the workload and possible relocation. How pathetic am I? I’m so unhappy yet too scared to change my unhappiness. -__- >:|

I just need to do it. There really isn’t any excuse. I’m not too tired, too busy, too overworked, too nothing. I have the time, and I have the energy. I’m just choosing to waste it instead of use it. Hopefully tomorrow will be a new day and I can start fresh and apply my energy to the things that need it. After all, the only way out of a rut is to dig yourself out.

Soul Searching Part 4: Open Doors

So I ran into my heart tonight. We talked for a few minutes about us, our lives, and the love we still seem to share after all this time. He wished me happy birthday by the way. How ironic.

A warm embrace that reached deep into never forgotten memories, love stricken words exchanged over soft tear drops, a kiss and an open door "when you're ready".




Whhyyy?!!! I didn't ask for this. After this many years, too many sleepless tear-filled night, I would expect some type of progression. But I'm the same pitiful mess I was 4 1/2 years ago when he first broke my heart. A little older, a lot wiser, but the same heart. It hasn't changed. I still love him. Deeply. With every molecule inside me. I haven't felt that much joy and happiness since, well, since the last time I saw him. The feeling is indescribable. If perfection was a feeling, it would be that feeling.

When you're ready let me know. 


Now before I say what I need to say, I realize that there are a few (or several) people reading this wanting to strangle me. And all I can say is good thing I'm not around you ;) no, but really, I'm just being honest. 


Is it bad that I want to try? I want to see if it'll work, to see if we could make us work. All the logistics aside, love is enough, right?


I can't help but be frustrated with myself. I really do feel like I haven't progressed. I'm still fighting this battle. Trying to move on, close doors, open new ones.


Two weeks ago, I was good. Made some really painful realization, washed my hands, turned a new leaf, closed this door and started cleaning house.


Why does this door keep opening? This time with an invitation to walk through and win the one prize I've been fighting for since October 2008.


I don't have an answer. I can't give one right now. All I know is doors don't stay open forever.