What I should’ve done first

It’s hard for me to be specific about this post. But let’s just say, I met someone when I was with my ex. I told him I was unavailable (and it killed me to do it considering he is clearly the better man) once things got more serious between me and my ex boyfriend and for the most part, he respected that. Since I’m recently single, circumstances are different. I am a lot of things but I am NOT a cheater. I think cheaters are fucking cowards who can’t get their shit straight, operating purely on fear and lack of character. 

I think the question I forgot to ask myself lately was “does he deserve me”? You know I’ve been putting so much stock into his merits/feelings and I think I neglected to appreciate my own for a second. Let me just be clear, I am awesome. A lot of people say they’re “rare breeds” but really, I mean it when I say I am a rare person. In addition to that, I have many desirable qualities and abilities and I know that I am like a fire that can’t be put out, I always burn hot. I mean that as a metaphor for success, not one for temper (although sometimes that also burns hot). I am kind, compassionate, creative, patient, loving, forgiving, etc. Seriously, the list of my positive qualities runs long. But there’s more to it than that because everything I do, I do with my entire being. I mean there are definitely exceptions like when it comes to my Children’s Art course I’m in right now where I’m just plain bored. In the area of relationships, I’m a badass partner. I have my faults sure but I am worth it.

I have dreams of a career, I have dreams of a life. I never want to feel like I will look back one day and think “should I have done more?”. I excel. A lot of my friends used to pick on me for staying in California… but seriously how could I leave my sister to do it all alone? I am loyal to a fault. When it comes to blood, I will never ever leave her behind. I say that with gritted teeth and a crap ton of conviction (pun intended).

What I feel right now is a lot of mixed emotions. I talked to my psychic about my feelings and what I’m meant to learn at this point and she said maybe it was about working through my fear. I agree with her. I needed to work past my fear of abandonment so that I could finally focus on my self worth. Who I am now, who I want to be, and how I need to act in order to make those things happen. When I met him, my world opened up. It was like this hallway I’ve never seen before suddenly lit up and there were endless doors I could pick from. Of course, my brain immediately tried to run down the hallway. I really need to stop doing that. My last relationship taught me a lot but mostly, it taught me caution. It was only during the break up that I saw how my ex actually saw me in the world, in relation to himself. After a year of undying patience and commitment, it was just shocking to hear the words out of his mouth. To see his perspective was just… I will never forget it. I mean, I always knew he was clueless but that? That was beyond offense.

But I also forgive myself for it and I know that I really did do everything I could to make it work. I showed him so many interpersonal skills. He took a crash course in dating and I don’t really know who else in the world would have had the patience required to teach him that stuff. I burned out after a year of it when most people would’ve left after the first week. I turned a fuckboy into a relationship person. Where he was once a 4 year old, he is now entering puberty. Lucky for him, he’s a man so he can take his sweet time growing up.

I think it’s not just because I’m a woman that I constantly revert to thinking “everything is my fault”. I think it’s still the stupid guilt and weird childhood stuff from my mom that brings me to that place. So when I took stock of my life recently, and the people in it that brought me to this headspace, it took me much longer than it should have to recognize I am worth more than the treatment I am currently receiving. I don’t know what to do about it either, because there’s really nothing I can do except wait or leave and I really don’t want to give up. 

I’ve played the waiting game for the last 13 years and one thing I have learned over the course of that time is that they always come back. I still get texts years later from people who want to start things up with me because they weren’t ready the first time around. It’s always sort of satisfying to see this happen time and time again.

The annoying part is, I didn’t start this. He was the one jumping in with both feet, unafraid of the dark water. I was direct and honest always. I was fun and flirty and I asked for nothing and he gave me endless time and effort. Finally, I turn around and I think I’m sort of ready to start something and he walks away. Maybe for reasons I will never discover but knowing my luck, I hope that isn’t the case.

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I really miss this feeling

The times I feel most at peace is when I am creating art. I communicate with my art and people see that sometimes and sometimes they don’t. Tears come to my eyes when I expose my prints. When I feel my spirit lift, I know this can’t be me. I see my hands and I don’t believe that is me. I surrender.

I stopped trying to control people and the world around me. I started to let go and I felt better. I asked questions why i might not be right, how I could change and be better, so I felt better.

Whenever I can, I help people. I talk to people. We get so busy all the time that I make it a point to talk to people. And for whatever reason, whenever I do, it turns out this person is someone I was seeking. Sometimes it’s a job I needed, sometimes a friend, sometimes an ally. We are all connected.

I help as much as I can. And I get lost as much as I can. I try all the time and I pray constantly.

Things pop up all the time. Sometimes I help someone and I hesitate before I do so, but I do it anyway. Not even five or ten minutes later, I am given something in return. Be it a compliment, a kind sentiment, a physical something. It never fails. Sometimes it takes a couple weeks and sometimes it’s immediate.

I have asked so many questions and strangely enough, the music talks to me. As soon as I worry about something and I have a clear mind as I do so, the next song that comes on answers me.

For so long I couldn’t sleep. I had terrible nightmares. I told myself to experience the anger I felt during my sleep and eventually I found myself sleeping longer than I should. My dreams were vivid and bright. But eventually I forgave my mother and now we are working together to help people.

I stopped blaming people and I learned how to truthfully feel my emotions. I stopped trying to define my feelings and instead accepted times when I didn’t know how I felt, or understanding I might be angry in the future.

Everything I’m angry about I use on a scale. In five years time will it matter? A day? A week? A year?

So what does it matter?

There are signs everywhere. You just have to be open to seeing them. When he spoke about doing what our intuition says, I have felt that 100%. I only ever get in trouble when I doubt that.

I say thank you everyday. Even when I’m having a bad day I say thank you.

I started with forgiveness and then I ended up being grateful.

I stopped giving people the middle finger and started giving peace signs. People are so unprepared to deal with nice things, they just drive away, feeling odd.

I don’t like repeating lessons over and over. So I try to learn the first time around. Trust myself, and I know the answer will come.

Balthasar helped me out

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I can’t tell if I crave the feeling of being right or being liked. I can’t tell if my need to argue stems from a desire to correct wrongs and communicate my feelings or if it’s all so that I can go on feeling like no one hates me. If indeed I fall below the latter, does that make me fearful? Afraid to let others be angry? Or is it fuel for distance? This is sometimes a question of pride and sometimes a question of anger but in this case I am seriously torn.

I’ve been examining my relationships with others lately and what I’ve found is a bunch of needy people. I am no longer going to let myself be a mother to so many needy children. They all want my approval and attention so constantly that it interferes directly with my own needs.

But now I wonder, where do I draw the line? How do I undo a set precedent? How do I relearn how to communicate when I’ve so long prided myself on being a compassionate communicator? I have always been a go getter, the driver of my life. Now that I’ve taken a step back I can see how I have let myself be taken advantage of over and over again. My friends and family say I’ve “been short” but in reality, I’ve been irritated. I’m noticing how many times a day I am not allowed to choose when I engage with the world. This morning I was woken up by my cousin. Later, I was stopped mid-project to look at an Instagram video. Immediately after, shown another video by my sister.

When confronted about my behavior changes, I am unsure if my reaction was in defense of the moment in question (the Instagram video) or in defense of my newly discovered persona. I can’t tell which torch I carry. Am I just being mean and therefore building walls instead of bridges? Have I begun swirling downward into a firestorm? Or is this how people feel when they prioritize?

I went to one of my favorite philosophers and let fate decide where my eyes fell:

ccvii Be Moderate.

One has to consider the chance of a mischance. The impulses of the passions causes prudence to slip, and there is the risk of ruin. A moment of wrath or of pleasure carries you on farther than many hours of calm, and often a short diversion may put a whole life to shame. The cunning of others uses such moments of temptation to search the recesses of the mind: they use such thumbscrews as are wont to test the best caution. Moderation serves as a counterplot, especially in sudden emergencies. Much thought is needed to prevent a passion taking the bit in the teeth, and he is doubly wise who is wise on horseback. He who knows the danger may with care pursue his journey. Light as a word may appear to him who throws it out, it may import much to him that hears it and ponders on it.

I don’t know anymore how I feel when I’m “normal” so for the moment I’m going to take my vitamins and embrace the project I finished today (it’s about a year overdue) and go buy a swimsuit so I can learn how to surf in the morning. There are just so many damned baby steps I’m not sure if I’m moving forward or sideways.

And as I think back now, I wonder if it’s not so much a fear of angering others or being disliked but I think I’m so damned sentimental that I’m afraid one day when we’re old and looking back at our lives, the memories will be tainted with arguments and disconnects. Is that my fear of abandonment and loss coming into play? Is that the forever question?

These women would make ice if you let them

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            Feelings for me get pretty tricky. I used to feel them so much and so often, I had to turn them off for a long time. Eventually that would erupt into some kind of giant crying scene complete with me writing poems for hours and smudging around the ink with my tears, feeling very sorry for myself wondering how the world could have wronged me so. But then again that was fourteen for most I believe. Then all those angry years took all the tears and turned themselves into screams and broken glass from all the bottles I smashed in my alley when I couldn’t figure out what to do with all those feelings.

            It’s taken some time but I don’t really do any of those things anymore. I know part of the mess was hormones but it was also that my mom and I were learning how to grow up together. She went through a lot of passive aggressive attitudes and dirty maneuvers before she became someone I wanted to talk to. She told me I was a druggy (because I’d smoked weed and drank alcohol at a friend’s house in high school). She told me I was neglecting her because I didn’t come to visit more than twice a year – even though it’s a four and half hour drive (one way) and I was only fifteen. She called me repeatedly throughout the day to talk to me even if my friends were around and I couldn’t hang up because of the guilt I felt if I didn’t stay on the phone – not to mention the manipulation I’d be unwittingly forced to endure for days (even weeks) on end.

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            And then I she wrote me her last horrible, seven page “intervention” letter for my 18th birthday and I didn’t talk to her for a year. She stopped. We’ve both grown up since then.

            It took me a long time to visit her after I started talking to her again. I’ve been back once or twice since my 21st birthday.

            But it doesn’t fail to amaze me each time she makes me feel better when I don’t even know I’m down. Since I’ve never had a conventional mother-daughter relationship, I’ve never had one to compare myself to. I’ve seen things from a window I’ve always looked in on but never experienced. And I still don’t really know what it is that I’m a part of. It’s like a horribly unhealthy relationship that finally blossomed. I feel like our bond is kindred to tales of those old, aging sisters that live off in some secluded house on the top of a hill somewhere who spend their days making jam and painting.

            Whenever there’s a separation from someone who’s supposed to be an instrumental part of your life and they come back, there’s this awkwardness. What do we do now? How do we act? Where do I put my hands? Is it okay to laugh at this? Am I holding on too long? Can we sit in comfortable silence? What now? And even at visiting, there’s still a little bit of that. But over the phone and via letter, it’s completely washed away. Ironically enough, I feel closer to her when I only hear her voice than when I hold her hand. Because in person, she’s still a stranger to me — but her voice, I know it by heart.

            She tells me I’m a good person, that she wants me to dream big, that I’m smart, tough, strong, loved, needed, beautiful. She tells me things I’ve never known I needed to hear. My dad has always said those things (albeit sparingly, he stresses the intelligence thing, that I’m the spitting image of him and therefore beautiful, all in good humor of course) but for whatever reason, hearing it from her makes it feel a little realer. And I feel bad that I didn’t know I was unsatisfied with my dad’s validation but to be honest, a mother’s love is different. Plus, considering she’s somewhat of a hardened OG nowadays it’s even more of a ego boost than it might’ve been before.

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She told me today that she makes 15 cents an hour. That she’s happy she got a new job and took the pay cut even though she was making significantly more before (enough to support herself). She said being able to work at night and see the moon and be surrounded by quiet is worth more than money. She said it was the first time she’d been outside at night in nearly ten years. That made me cherish the moonlight a little bit more.