When Do You Give Up?

I love my friends. I treasure them. My friends are the center of my world. They keep me grounded, they keep me happy, they challenge me, they keep me laughing, they make me the person that I am. The people in my life are my top priority, and my life often orbits around them. I love each of them more than words can express.

But do you ever give up on a friendship? Can you ever? When do you reach the point where you say, "Enough is enough"?

When I was in middle school, I had friend problems. Each year I tried to wiggle my way into a group of friends, and each year, they hurt me and wouldn't let me into their clique. But after those awkward adolescent years, everything's been fine. I'm great at making friends and good at keeping them. I think I'm pretty fun, easygoing and slow to anger. When something does happen, I'm quick to apologize, I'm forgiving and don't hold grudges. I am by no means a perfect person, but I do believe that if there's even one thing I'm good at in this world, it's love.

In the past few years, I've had problems with friends. Problems that remind me of grades 6-8 when a good friend really was hard to find. I actually got very depressed about this a couple years ago, and when I talked to my mom about it, she counseled that it's just what happens when you're in your 20s. She said people grow and change a lot in that time, and you won't always grow and change together. I think she's right, and in reading your blogs over these past few months, I feel a little better about these problems because I see that I'm not alone. It still sucks, though, doesn't it?

You just feel so helpless. You don't know what you did wrong or what's happening or how to fix it. You expect a dating relationship to end, but not a friendship. Never a friendship. The pain of losing a friend aches in ways your heart hasn't bent before. And it's a slow ache that creeps up on you and intensifies as more time passes. I've gotten over the worst heartaches of my little life so much sooner than I've ever recovered from losing a friendship. It's a dull pain that stays with you.

This is what it feels like to lose a friend.

I don't know about you, but I never want to lose a friend. I never let go. I always keep wishing. If any of the friends I've lost in the past few years sent a kind email, a little "Hello, how are you?" I would be happy to reconnect and rebuild what we lost. I would apologize as easily as I would accept apologies - all with the thrill of welcoming the Prodigal Son that is our friendship home.

Looking back at my life, I've never chosen to end a friendship. There have been points when I felt it wasn't going to work, but even through those times, I push on and keep hoping. It's foolish probably. Many have cautioned me that it isn't healthy, that I just let myself get hurt again and again. Yet it's who I am. I love. Forever.

When someone hurts you consistently just because they can, isn't that the time to toss in the towel? To give up and save yourself more heartache? Probably. But it's so difficult for me to reach that point that if I ever did, it wouldn't be a big production. It wouldn't be calculated or declared. It would be a sad and private moment.

What about the realization that your friend is not who you thought they were? Love is blind, and sometimes we are too. Sometimes we see the best in someone whose best doesn't show its face enough. How do you get to the point where you can admit you were wrong about someone and that the friendship isn't what you thought it was?

Sometimes I understand why a friendship is changing, what is at the crux of the issue, and I sympathize for my friend and for myself. I wonder if it's unfair of me to continue pushing, am I forcing them to be who I want them to be? Is it selfish to hold on? Can you ever force friendship? Is it self-indulgent? Why is it so hard to admit a friendship has run its course? Is it weakness?

When I'm worried or upset about a friendship on the rocks, I focus on the good, solid friendships in my life. The ones I'm certain will never go anywhere. I focus on all the love in my life rather than the love I've lost out of my life. I find that whenever you do that, you realize that one greatly outweighs the other. What we have is always more than what we've lost.

So let's try to stay chin up on those bad days, and shoot a good friend a quick "I love you, and I appreciate you," message. After all, when we stop to really look at what we have, we'll see we have a lot of love in our lives.

The Lord is My Shepherd

Grieving is hard. It's not a quick or easy process. Sometimes people ask me how I'm doing. I don't know how to answer that question. They're showing concern and acknowledging what I'm going through, but doesn't it seem like a question they know the answer to? "How are you?" "Not good. Rotten. Sad." And half the time I'm not sure if they really want the truth or if asking is a gesture. I can usually tell by the way it's asked or who's doing the asking. No one knows what to do or say, but that's ok. The trying matters.

I feel something different every day. Any hour of the day it could completely change. The feelings come at you so matter-of-fact, like a realization that you're hungry or remembering a task that needs to be done that day. I realized a couple weeks ago, I was angry. It almost made me laugh, I was so surprised and confused. I don't really get angry. Life is too short, people are too important, hearts are too fragile. But I felt like the girl in that movie Enchanted. Do you remember the scene where she realizes she's angry for the first time? That's kind of how it feels.

I do everything slower. I read slower, I respond to voicemail slower, I'm slower when I get ready to leave or do simple things like the dishes. I'm forgetful like my mind is moving slower. It's not that life is in slow motion - it's just me. And life is happening around me at its regular pace.

My adviser is wonderful. She's actually the reason I chose this school, and if you're thinking about grad school, let me give you a little advice. The adviser you choose to work with is just as important as the school you choose to attend. We had a meeting last Friday, and she asked how I'm doing. She wanted me to talk to her. She told me about her father's death and what she went through. And we cried together. Right there in her office, while we were supposed to be meeting about the research we're working on. Because in the middle of meetings, in the middle of routines, life is happening. I told her I feel like this is changing me, I keep saying that because it's a feeling I'm so conscious of, and she told me it would change me, but how was up to me. That made me feel a little more in control right when I'm feeling more out of control than ever.

I've been getting a lot of attention from guys lately, more than I'm used to. This perplexes me. How can I be attractive when I feel so not myself? One thing a friend told me would happen is that my emotions would be closer to the top, that I'd be more sensitive. That is happening, but I call it raw. I feel raw. Like the new skin that shows when you burn yourself. So today, I was wondering how in the world I'm sending a, "Come hither," message. And it occurred to me that maybe it's more of a, "Here I am," message. Maybe the raw honesty is attractive? I don't know.

It's not as unbelievable now. That he's gone. I think I'm starting to get used to it. And I hate that. It feels unnatural, like a betrayal. I want more hugs. He gave the best hugs. He squeezed tightly, and his hands were so strong you felt protected. In these last few years, whenever he hugged me, I held on longer. I wanted to cling to him all day long like a child clutching a teddy bear because of the comfort and safety it provides.

I try to act like myself, like everything's fine. That helps in some way, it helps me go through the motions and distract myself. I'm faking it to make it. But it's always there, the sad is always with me. In the pit of my stomach, the quickening of my pulse. I wonder if I'm fooling anyone. Or everyone.

I have a couple people I talk to, a couple I've tried to but can't, a couple I know I could if I needed to. I have no idea what my life will be like months from now. I can barely think about tomorrow or next week. It is a process. A process at least means it's something I'm moving through. Psalms 23 says, "Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil." Through. It's something you get through - not stay in forever. And on the other side, I will be different. I will be changed. But I will also be good.

Thanks. I promise a funner post tomorrow.

The Runaway Train

I have a new favorite song. Sugarland's Already Gone. I’ve been playing it on repeat for a week. I have never listened to a song so obsessively before, but I just can’t get enough. Music makes us feel. It can make us aware of feelings we have that we didn’t know we had because we didn’t know how to express them. It can also sharpen our feelings and put them into perspective so that we understand ourselves better. It can teach us and inspire us.

I’m not going to aggrandize and say that this song does all or any of those things. But it does make me feel. And it makes me think. Nostalgia is, I think, what this song does for me.

My Mama mapped out the road that she knows
Which hands you shake and which hands you hold
In my hand-me-down Mercury, ready to roll
She knew that I had to go
And hangout, make lots of noise
Lay out late with a boy
Make the mistakes that she made 'cause she knew all along

I was already gone
I was already gone
I was already gone
Life is a runaway train you can't wait to jump on

This is the first verse, and I like it because it makes me remember being young. I mean, I am young still, of course, but I mean really young. I think about high school and college and how little I knew and how much I wanted to learn. I still make lots of noise and always will, but there’s something about the noise of your youth. And while the nighttime will always be magical, there’s something very special about the nights of our youth too, isn’t there?

My high school boyfriend - ooo was he hot. Everyone thought so. He had piercing green eyes, dark hair, a crooked grin that told you he was too cool for school (as evidenced when he later dropped out of college). His hair was long too. Something I’ve found truly repulsive in men since, but at 16, it was hot. I learned a lot from that boy…

Have you ever had an all-night date? I don’t even mean one of those hot and heavy nights where you stay up all night doing naked things. I mean a date. I want to see Nick and Norah’s Playlist so bad! And part of the reason is because they have one wild, all night date moving from one unexpected adventure to the next.

I had my first late night date my freshman year of college. It wasn’t technically all night, but it might as well have been. We ended up on the steps of The Vulcan in Birmingham, Alabama, and he kissed me for the first time. He had green eyes too, come to think of it. He was good looking, intelligent, kind and grew up in Kenya. A man of the world!

I heard once about a couple in Florida that started their first date watching the sunset on the Gulf Coast, then drove all night to see the sunrise on the Atlantic Coast. Ro-man-tic! If there ever was a perfect date, that’d be it. Because honestly, I’m looking for a partner in crime who’s up for anything and always says yes to crazy.

The verse also makes me think about when I moved to New York. Everyone in my family thought I was nuts, they were all mad at me, but especially my mom. She really didn't understand why I wasn't following her map. But when I moved, she was in the Uhaul with me, took care of everything and helped me move in and decorate. As great as she was, I know she cried on the way home. She loves me, she accepts me for who I am and even though she has a hard time understanding my decisions, she always supports them. And she knows I need to be independent so it's ok that I am.

They say the first time won't ever last
But that didn't stop me the first time he laughed
All my friends tried to warn me the day that we met
"Girl, don't you lose your heart yet"
But his dark eyes dared me with danger
And sparks fly like flame to a paper
Fire in his touch burning me up, but still I held on

I was already gone
I was already gone
I was already gone
Life is a runaway train you can't wait to jump on

This verse makes me think about the Firestarter. I dated him for a little over a year when I lived in New York right after college. He was a bad boy, and while I know it’s just a phase, phew is it one I’m glad I had. He taught me about passion. I knew all along he wasn’t the one, but I couldn’t make myself walk away. I was fixated. Spellbound.

Passion is a funny thing. It can trick you into thinking there’s something deeper – that’s how it helps you justify sticking around. The times in my life when I have felt incredible passion and lust, those feelings didn’t fade away like the warning we’ve all heard. It was always just as hot and firey as the first time. But eventually it's not as satisfying because there actually is more to a relationship than what happens inside the bedroom.

Just the other day, I told a friend of mine that I had figured something out. I said, “I know why people get married.” She laughed and said, “Oh good, why?” (I should add this friend is already married.) “When you find someone you have hot passion with, but also connect with in all the important ways too.” She laughed at my revelation because it was not news to her, but hey – I learn new things every day.

I can categorize all of my relationships as being dominated either by sexual passion or emotional connection. It just never occurred to me it was possible that you didn’t have to choose between them. Or that passion can last a lifetime.

Passion definitely has to be there. It puts the "crazy" in crazy love. There's the thrill of the first few months, when you're discovering each other's bodies, finding all the secret spots and learning each other. The first all-night naked romp. The first all-day naked romp. Then there's the thrill of the passion that comes from sharing for the first time that you're falling for each other - sweet nothings lead to the hottest of hot. And there is nothing like the first time you say "I love you." Nothing is sexier, and you cling tighter to him than ever before, hoping it will never end.

The last time I saw him, we packed up my things
And he smiled like the first time he told me his name
And we cried with each other
We split the blame for the parts that we couldn't change
Pictures, dishes and socks
It's our whole life down to one box
There he was waving goodbye on the front porch alone

But I was already gone
I was already gone
I was already gone
I was already gone
I was already gone

Thankfully, I have never been divorced. I pray I will never know such pain. But break-ups...ah, I know what those feel like. I think I've experienced those from every possible angle. I hate the last kiss. What's the saddest is when you know it's the last kiss, but no one says it. You know it's nearing the end, you might not be sure exactly when it's coming, but then you kiss that one kiss...and you know...that was the last.

The Firestarter taught me many lessons about life and love. He was my first adult relationship. It’s different when you’re an adult. The love is bigger and deeper, but it also hurts more. I think that’s because you share a life together. You share friends, you share space, you share days and nights, and you come to depend on each other in a million little ways.

It hurts the most when you do the final exchange. When you give him his stuff back, and all the evidence of the love is gone.

Now there’s only one toothbrush in the toothbrush holder. His shirts are no longer hanging in the closet. Even the things that used to irritate you, you’re sad to see gone like his socks he left on the floor or the cord to his laptop you always tripped on.

I kept my ex’s Old Spice Bodywash for awhile. It's not that we broke up and then haven't seen each other. I saw him just a couple weeks ago, but it’s not the kind of thing you give back. I kept it for over 6 months, hidden under my sink because it made me sad to look at it.

I ended things. It was my decision. And when I finally told him, I was already gone. I had been gone for awhile. It’s weird, isn’t it? How you can leave something but still be in it?

We can’t wait to grow up. I had the earliest curfew of all my friends, and I couldn’t wait to stay out late. That was my big rebellion my freshman year. Well, that and Fruit Rollups for breakfast. My high school boyfriend hurt me. And that guy I kissed in Birmingham turned out to have a host of issues I was too young to deal with. The Firestarter burned up my living room and broke my heart for the first time, it hurt in ways I didn't know it could. He wasn’t the last, and the hurt wasn't the worst.

All the fun and excitement of trying new things, testing boundaries, taking leaps can bring pain and heartache too. It is a wild runaway train, but the risks and the costs are worth the ride. Every bit of life – the good and the bad – that we can experience makes every pleasure sweeter, every smile wider and every minute brighter. That's what I've learned in the past month. That and all my hugs have been longer and tighter.

Amazing Grace

It is finished. My grandfather died. It doesn’t quite seem real. Everything feels like it’s in black and white. Days feel like weeks because everything is in slow motion. I feel quiet. My heart feels like it’s inside of a fist, my fist, and it’s squeezing tightly to hold all the pieces together, to keep from falling apart.

I had been wondering for a couple months now about how I would feel, what I would do. I feel a little bit like a different person. But more like a different version of myself. This is a part of life I had never known before, and now I do, I know it. I feel almost like part of a club, a group with members who have scars, and I now understand where the scars came from and how it felt as they grew in.

I’ve been watching movies about death lately. Not sad, morbid movies, but movies that show how we deal with death. I don’t know how I’ll deal with it over the next few months. I don’t know what I’ll feel or what I’ll want to do or who I’ll want to talk to. But these movies somehow make me feel like it’ll eventually be alright, that it won’t be the end of everything.

A few months ago, when he went into the hospital suddenly, I craved Little Miss Sunshine. I love that movie and just had to watch it. It’s one of my favorites. Hysterically funny, but so true and poignant too. About a crazy family trying to stay together and get through the ugly mess and hurt of life. Grandpa dies, and they miss him, and he was loved, but life goes on. They pull together and make it. It’s such an honest, real film full of heart.

And I’ve watched Elizabethtown three times in the past few months. Live life to the fullest. Shrug off the disappointments and cling to what’s good, cherish it and soak it all in because the love is all that matters. Smile. And laugh. And never give up. His dad dies, and he sees life for the first time and opens up to all that it is. That movie always makes me feel full of hope, and I laugh, and I believe. And it’s also about a crazy family sticking together, with lots of love.

A month ago, I watched Catch and Release again. Her fiancé dies, and she learns he’d been cheating on her for years. She has a great line in the movie that says she had to lose him to know who he really is and that it changed who she is. That’s probably what always happens when someone we love dies – it changes us. That’s what I feel like is happening to me. I know it has already changed me, and there is more change coming yet.

The weather has not been good lately, and I know it’s all the hurricanes, but I can’t help but feel something larger at work. When PaMa died a month ago, I listened to a song, “It Don’t Matter to the Sun,” when I was driving home for the funeral.

It don't matter to the sun
If you go or if you stay
No, the sun is gonna rise, gonna rise
Shine down on another day
There will be a tomorrow
Even if you choose to leave
'Cause it don't matter to the sun no, no
It matters to me

It rained the day he died, and it was cloudy and gloomy and grey, and I couldn’t help but think it did matter to the sun. The world was sad he was no longer a part of it. That makes sense to me. He knew everyone, was important and renowned in his community, was the head of our family. He was such a force on this earth, his spirit so big and so strong, that surely the earth feels his absence and is mourning with the rest of us.

This evening, the weather was strange. One of those times when half the sky is as black as it’s ever been, but right next to it is the bluest of blue skies and the whitest, purest clouds. Weather like that always makes me tilt my head with confusion, but tonight, I understood that as how I have felt these last few days. Black, dark clouds side by side a pure, clear sky.

Lovin' Life, Lovin' You - 24/7

** This is for you...hang in there...

A couple of nights ago, I was looking for some paper and picked up an old journal someone gave me years ago I thought I had never used. I opened it to tear a sheet out and saw that I had written in it. Once. Three years ago in September.

2005 was the worst year of my life. And maybe the best because I learned so much. (I always have to add in the optimism, don’t I?) It was a painful, painful year. I probably cried more in that year than I have cried in my entire adult life.

Let’s see…in six short months...I got cheated on and my poor heart broken. My sweet grandfather was diagnosed with lung cancer (on my birthday no less...and you wonder why I hate my birthday). My grandmother had a bad car accident with a lot of legal drama. I had an unhealthy relationship with someone who hurt me over and over again because I let him. I could have left. And eventually I did, thank God or I’d never be able to forgive myself. Finally in late August, I was laid off from the horrible job I hated and thus could get out of my lease and leave Atlanta if I just had somewhere to go. Someone I knew had a cousin that needed a roommate in DC. I said yes. Without meeting her or seeing the apartment. Or having a job. I just had to get away. And you know, I even turned down a job offer that would have let me stay. I am a real free faller.

It wasn’t scary to me that I was moving to a new city, living with strangers in an apartment I knew nothing about or even that I was unemployed. I was so thankful to have an opportunity to escape. I was unhappy and needed a reason to take a chance on me. I was there for my family through those rough months, and I needed to be there for me too. It’s hard to explain really what I was thinking or feeling. I felt free and easy...but nervous at the same time.

I saw the movie Elizabethtown during this transition and connected with it instantly. It’s definitely one of my all-time favorites. It makes me laugh and cry and think. I love all the characters. They’re so well-defined, even the smallest ones you understand. Like Chuck and Cindy, who the title of this post comes from. I think it’s a magical movie with close-ups on the full range of human emotion and the human spirit. But to me, the movie is all about hope – in fact, it’s the most hopeful movie I’ve ever seen. It’s not just about how you survive, but it’s about how you can do it while keeping your chin up and a smile on your face. It’s a crazy thing to have your whole world crashing in on you, but still feel fine. Still have hope.

A good friend of mine talked to me last night about hope. She said hers was struggling lately.

The Bible ranks it right up there with faith and love – it’s just as powerful and important. But can be so hard to hold onto. We need hope. We get out of bed every day hoping it’ll be a good one or that we’ll at least make it through. We take vitamins hoping we won’t get sick. We go on dates hoping it’ll be worth it in the end. And we spend time with our loved ones hoping we’ll all be together again soon. We need it, yes, but what keeps it alive is desire.

I’m just a girl. And a simple one at that. I don’t know how we hold onto hope, but I think I know why. It’s all we have. We have to hold onto hope because sometimes it’s the only thing that will keep us going. Even prisoners in concentration camps found a miraculous way to hold onto their hope.

There’s a beautiful verse in the Bible that says, Hope is an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. Another says that God has plans to give us a hope and a future. So that makes me think that hope comes from God. That He gives it to us for a reason. Even if it is hope that is not fulfilled, it serves a purpose of some kind. Maybe to move us from Atlanta to DC. Maybe to make us more aware of every minute we have with someone. Maybe to get us out of bed. Maybe to change our life.

It was hard, but beautiful reading the words I wrote three years ago. It’s like they were written by a stranger. I was so sad. So much had happened, and even though I wasn’t really scared, I was worried that I might never find all the scattered pieces of me. I was worried that in all the chaos and calamity, I didn't know myself. And I was worried that the downpour of tragedy would continue. Once everything goes wrong, you start looking for the next shoe to drop. But even in the midst of all that, I had hope.

And it worked out. I did change, but for the better. I know myself so well now. I am stronger because I know how strong I can be. I know what my vessel holds and who I have with me in rough and still patches. Going through all that tells me that the next time the sky falls, I’ll be alright. I have faith in that. So maybe hope builds faith. And it builds love because those that saw me through those dark days, I put my hope in them, I leaned on them, and our friendships are so much stronger now than ever before. And my hope is stronger too.

So the most painful year of my life was the most wonderful year of my life. Good things do come to those who wait.

No true fiasco ever began as a quest for mere adequacy. A motto of the British Special Air Force is: 'Those who risk, win.' A single green vine shoot is able to grow through cement. The Pacific Northwestern salmon beats itself bloody on its quest to travel hundreds of miles upstream against the current, with a single purpose – sex, of course – but also...life.

29

I love Ryan Adams. L-O-V-E in all caps! I think his lyrics are so poetic and poignant, and he's such a gifted musician. Sometimes, though, he is too sad for me. I have him in my Top 5 because I think he's sexy in all his mysteriousness and talent, and I joke that I love how he's so brooding and I want to fix him. He was on drugs or an alcoholic (or all of the above) for awhile and then got sober. I think he made this CD while he was in that process.

It's called 29. And every song represents a year of his twenties. It's a really beautiful idea, and I don't know what all the songs mean, but it's interesting to imagine and to learn a little bit more about someone. These are his songs:

29
28 - Strawberry Wine
27 - Night Birds
26 - Blue Sky Blues
25 - Carolina Rain
24 - Starlite Diner
23 - The Sadness
22 - Elizabeth, You Were Born to Play That Part
21 - Voices

Every year on my birthday, I take stock. I know, I know that's not what birthdays are about, but we have to measure ourselves somehow don't we? Or else we can't grow. Even looking back at my life, I always think about what happened that birth year. And I like that my clever crush Ryan Adams does that too. Since my birthday a couple months ago, I've been trying to figure out what song titles would match up nicely with each year of my twenties. I think I've finished the list. Almost every year is a song title, but two years are lyrics. Mine are more obvious and simpler than his, but I never claimed to be an artist. Though maybe you can learn a little about me too.

29
28 – Awake is the New Sleep
27 – Come As You Are
26 – If You’re Going Through Hell, Keep On Going
25 – Wild Hope
24 – Did I Shave My Legs For This?
23 – Standing Outside the Fire
22 – If I Can Make It There, I’ll Make It Anywhere
21 – To Be Young

Ryan created his CD when he was 29 so that year was left blank. It's hard to name something you haven't yet fully experienced. And the same is true for me. I don't know what will 29 bring. The adventure is in the mystery, but so far, so good.

Stretch Marks and Growing Pains

* I feel I have to provide a caveat to this entry as one of my friends was suddenly concerned I was pregnant. Ha. Praise Jesus, I am not. My sweet, loving grandfather is not in good health. *

I’ve had a peculiar feeling lately. Well, two actually. One feeling is that I’m being pulled forward and am dragging my feet in dirt. I don’t want to move, and it’s almost like I’m being pulled off a cliff. In fact, that all recently materialized in a dream I had last week. That feeling is, I think, because I don’t want to leave this carefree summer and go back to Atlanta and life there…and Tennessee and life there. It’s a feeling of dread, but that I’m dreading something inevitable.

Today I was thinking about stretch marks and growing pains. I can look back on my life and see periods of change. I can see where I went through an experience that changed me in the process and didn’t leave me the same on the other side. But it’s a very unusual feeling to be able to know in the moment that it’s all happening. I am changing. I am going through something that will change me and never leave me the same person that I was before. I have only to look back three years, when it all started, and see that this is true.

I don’t think it’s a bad change; I think I’ll be the better for it. It’s not painful now, but I know it will be soon. And my psychic stomach is again tensing and tightening. Telling me that something’s not right. Although it doesn’t take clairvoyant feelings in my tum-tummy to tell me that.

I decided part of growing up is learning to be responsible for others and take care of other people. That will soon be happening. Though caring for those who have always cared for you is certainly unique.

I can almost feel my insides stretching out and growing. And that’s what got me thinking about stretch marks. Everyone has them, right? Some are more pronounced than others, but I think that just about everybody has a couple of stretch marks on their body. And really, what is the purpose of those ugly things? People try to use lotions and magic potions to take them off. Some even have surgery to remove them. They’re kind of like wrinkles in that way.

They’re evidence that we’ve grown. Proof that we’re taller, curvier, that we’ve grown up. I don’t remember getting the stretch marks. I must have grown too fast for my body. That’s what causes them, right? I have a good friend whose brother is very tall, and he grew several inches in a short amount of time. He actually did have growing pains. His bones and muscles hurt from the rapid growth. And I’m sure he now has stretch marks left to show for it all.

I feel that I will be different on the other side of this. I feel it inside of me in my soul. Once it’s over and processed, I’m not sure how it will feel or be, but I will change. That I know for sure. And maybe it’s been in me all along. Before we’re born, the Bible says that God formed us in the womb. That he knows how many hairs are on our head. And I’m sure that He, just like our body, knows exactly how tall we’ll be and the shape of our curves. So maybe it’s the same with our souls and hearts too. Maybe somewhere inside of me there’s a map of what shape my heart is supposed to be, and I spend my whole little life forming it just right.

One thing I know for sure is that I won’t have stretch marks or wrinkles to show for all the growing. But I think I will feel like a piece of me is missing, and that I’ve lost something I will never get back. He is a part of me, after all.

Forget the Real Girl. Who's the Real Lars?

I just saw Lars and the Real Girl. It was so good. I laughed through most of it because it was just so out there and absurd, but it had a serious message and now here I am sitting at home thinking about it. I think that everyone acts like Lars sometimes.

He had in his mind what the perfect girl would be like. What she'd look like, where she'd be from, what her childhood was like, everything. But she started to take on a life of her own, and he had to realize that who he had imagined wasn't exactly what he wanted after all. We all do that, don't we?

We think we know what we want, what we're looking for, but then when we find it, it isn't quite what we thought it'd be and it doesn't feel like it was supposed to. And then we're left alone again, usually. Because our life's not like a movie where the fairy tale ending arrives just in time to cushion the fall of our heart. And the fact is that it's hard being alone. That's why we invent people, why we try things we know in our heart of hearts that aren't right or won't fit. Because even if it feels good for a little while, it's better than the reality.

Poor Lars. He really just wanted someone to care about him. Someone who wanted to know everything about him, who wouldn't abandon him but would be there for him. Someone to make him feel like everybody else for once in his life.

It's so hard to find what we're looking for because we're usually looking in all the wrong places. We think we know, but we're wrong. We're delusional and see only what we want to see, what fits with the reality that we've created. But we end up finding our way eventually. Everyone takes a different walk to get there, and it takes some people longer than others. But eventually we sort out the mess that is who we are, and once we've created that to be the most solid foundation, I think all the other things just find us where we're at and just fall into place.

We find "the real girl." Whether "the real girl" is the right career path, the right home, the right partner, the right friends. We just have to be clear on who we are first. And maybe that's what set us off in the wrong direction to begin with. Looking outside when we should have been looking in. Then again, if we're just totally clueless, there's always the internet.

Carpe Diem and All That Bullshit

I haven't written much in awhile. I was sick last week. And the past two weeks were really stressful. Do you ever feel like you need a break from your life? That's how I've been feeling lately. I want to stick my head in the sand like an ostrich and come out only when the coast is clear.

I try very hard to live in the moment. Each day, I think of good things that happened, I thank God for the people that helped me through the day. I truly believe in all that "Carpe Diem!" bullshit. I try to find joy in simple things. And I do. All of that works for me. Kind-of.

What is hard is not to rehash all the ickiness in the past. Why do I do that to myself? Instead of playing over and over in my head the happiest scenes in the past year or two, I replay the saddest, ugliest ones. It feels like for whatever reason, I keep punishing myself and keep making myself feel bad for things that I should have already dealt with.

I also spend too much time thinking about the future, which is hard because, of course, I have no idea what it actually will be like. The problem is that I know that in just a couple of months, my life will change dramatically. So even though that hasn't happened yet, it's hard to think about what my life is like right now, in this moment.

I don't feel it when I'm with my friends. I have so much fun, I just get lost. And part of me knows our days this summer are sadly numbered so maybe I'm enjoying my time with them a little more than usual. I feel it the rest of the time, though. I feel it walking through DC. I feel it when I'm at my apartment thinking about what a pain it will be to pack and move all my junk. I feel it BIG time when I'm at work. It's hard to find motivation to do my job when I know I'm turning in my notice in a few short weeks.

The worst, though, is the constant nagging in my stomach. Am I doing the right thing? Will I be happy? Will everything be ok? I try to imagine my life in Atlanta, and it's tough. All I can imagine is being lonely and feeling isolated. But just because that's how I felt when I lived there before, it doesn't mean that's how it will be this time around. I can't help but remember those feelings, though. For the past two years, I've associated those feelings with Atlanta. And now I have to disconnect that and realize that it was my life at the time and not the city I lived in that made me so unhappy. And hot damn, I love DC. I thought about putting school off for a year, deferring my acceptance, but my good friend told me that if the only reason I would do that was to have fun for another year, that didn't seem like a strong enough reason.

Ok ok. The moment. Today. I had a funny conversation with the girls I work with and had some good laughs. My friends are emailing right now about going to a baseball game this weekend. And tomorrow night is Tuesday night, my favorite night of the week. My boobs look hot in the cute top I'm wearing. I have an exciting work project that I'm leading right now that will hopefully be a huge success and will help make a difference. I have a sweet puppy to go home to tonight. And I just finished a delicious bottle of Vitamin Water.

Sigh. I can run through the right motions, but somehow, it still doesn't quite work. I'm still thinking about how in a few months, I won't have all the same happy things to be thankful for. But hopefully, some new ones. Chin up, sunshine.

I Don't Wanna Grow Up, I'm a Toys-R-Us Kid

Growing up is the pits. I really hate it. I miss waking up on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons, not to get a windshield replaced. I used to come home at 4 and play outside. Now I come home at 7, and it's too dark and I'm too tired to play. Back then, I could wear whatever I wanted every day, not drab professional garb to make all the sheep look alike.

I miss My Little Pony, makebelieve, graham crackers with peanut butter, dance class, running in the warm sunshine, no responsibilities, no consequences, all fun and all play all the time. I'm tired of meetings, bills, debt, too broke to do what I want, rules, questions with too many answers, questions with no answers that keep me up at night, watching my fat intake, crackety old bones and wrinkles under my eyes.

I could whine all day. But there are good things about being a grownup too. It has its advantages. I have to remind myself, but some things are good.

No curfew! That was my most favorite college freedom. Coffee is good for me now. (Kind-of.) No one makes me eat vegetables covered in processed cheese. Alcohol...oh joy, oh bliss. Sleepovers with boys! Not that I've had one of those in quite some time, but I've had enough whose memories keep me warm at night. Oh, and I don't have to keep my room clean all the time. Work still gives me my paycheck no matter how many shirts are strewn across my bedroom floor.

But I keep waiting for it to get easy again. Even at 27 (almost 28 - eek!), I'm still waiting for someone to take care of me like when I was young. I need to be nurtured, I like it, it feels good, it helps. But I'm a grownup and have to take care of myself. There's no way Mommy can do it all for me now and no promise of a future with anyone else pitching in. No assurances that I won't always be on my own, providing for myself.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm just not a good adult. Or I'm not adult enough. I told one of my friends that once, and she laughed and said, "It has nothing to do with being an adult. You work for a non-profit, and you live in DC. You're not immature - you're poor." That's what friends are for.

But there are so many things I should be better at. I wonder if those improvements that I need are holding me back? But growing up is a continual process so, chances are, I'll always be struggling with these things and others.

But I'm not really struggling alone. Mom isn't nearby, and Mr. Right isn't either, but my friends and I are doing alright taking good care of one another. One thing is true - friendships get better and richer as we get older. And tequila shots can do the rest.

I Need a Nudge

I have a little dog, she’s tiny, only 8 pounds. As cute as can be! Right now, I live in a townhouse so we have some slick wooden stairs that lead up to our bedrooms. My Katiebug (as I call her because she’s as small as an insect) can walk up the stairs. But she’s scared to. So she sits and stares at them when she wants to go up. There’s a little platform there that she just sits and waits on. She’ll only go up them when I come over and nudge her. I point her in the direction and give her that initial nudge that’s all she needs to race up to the top.

Sometimes I feel like that little pup. I can go up the stairs. But they look awfully tall, and I feel so small. I’m not sure I can make it up them. When someone comes over and nudges me, I run right up. So what if there’s no one around to nudge me? What then? Do I just sit and stare? There’s food at the top of the stairs, and I’m hungry, but too scared to climb up. To even try to climb up.

That’s what I think.

But then again, I give myself a hard time more often than I deserve the beating. I feel so messed up and full of issues that I sometimes I tell myself I did something because of one fault I have or one weakness or one thing that’s wrong with me. Sometimes, I don’t make mistakes. Sometimes, I just know what’s good for me. The trouble is I rarely know when I made the right decision and when I made a mistake.

A good friend shared the following parable with me:

“There was an old farmer whose only horse ran away. Knowing that the horse was the mainstay of his livelihood, his neighbors came to commiserate with him. ‘Who knows what’s bad or good?’ said the old man, refusing their sympathy. And indeed, a few days later his horse returned, bringing with it a wild horse. The old man’s friends came to congratulate him. Rejecting their congratulations, the old man said, ‘Who knows what’s bad or good?’ And, as it happened, a few days later when the old man’s son was attempting to ride the wild horse, he was thrown from it and his leg was broken. The friends came to express sadness about the son’s misfortune. ‘Who knows what’s bad or good?’ said the old man. A few weeks passed, and the army came to the village to conscript all the able-bodied men to fight a war against the neighboring province, but the old man’s son was not fit to serve and was spared.”

Sometimes what are our greatest tragedies or what we perceive to be our greatest mistakes lead to great joys. I don’t know if I have any regrets. Well, I can think of one. I let someone treat me in ways I shouldn’t have tolerated. But in the end, maybe I learned something valuable from that period of my life. I believe I did. I often look back at some of the tough decisions I’ve made and wonder whether they were “right.” But like the old man said, “Who knows what’s bad or good?” I sure as hell don’t.

And that’s when I feel lonely. Some part of me feels that things would somehow be better, would at least be more bearable, if I wasn’t alone. It’s so hard for me to make decisions lately. I don’t know why, but I’ve gotten worse at it in the past year or so. Or maybe I’ve just started to notice it more. It makes me feel lost. And confused.

I seem full of fear that I didn’t have before. I can still take chances, can’t I? Or can I? I don’t know. I feel like I’m waiting for my life to start. Waiting for someone else to push play or nudge me up the stairs. But it's now or never, and if I’m hungry, I have to choose whether to eat what’s downstairs or brave the scary trek up.

A Coin With Too Many Sides

How do people make decisions? When I was young, sometimes I would pray really hard and flip a coin. Seriously. Not that I made any major decisions back then, but I always felt like God would control fate if I just prayed hard enough.

I think that God expects us to make our own decisions. As well He should. It's just so dang hard. Though I don't have any major life-altering decision to make right now, right this second, I feel one coming soon. Do I want to go back to school? I think yes.

But then I spend a weekend in New York and wonder why I don't live there anymore. That always happens when I go back to that city, and I wonder if it always will. I had so much fun there. I would be broker than broke, of course, if I ever moved back. But that reality rarely surfaces when I fantasize about moving back. In those fantasies, I'm well-paid, well-dressed and I'm the fun, saavy city girl I feel like on the inside. I forget so quickly what it was like not to have a closet or a washing machine or even a dishwasher. I had terrible apartments when I lived there, and I tell myself that if I lived in Williamsburg or even Hoboken, it would be better. But do I really have the energy for all that again?

And what about school? I've been thinking for a couple years now about going back and teaching. I think I'd be a good teacher, and since I graduated, I miss learning. I read textbooks just for fun now. But after my preliminary search, it seems that the most best matches for me are back in Georgia. Do I really want to move back there again? Athens I could do, but Atlanta, well, I still have a beef with that city. And I barely have friends left there. The closest friend I have in Atlanta has been trying to move up to DC for months. Is that really the best way to make a decision, though? Based upon the vibe I get from a city and whether or not I have enough close friends there? Especially when I should really be focusing on what SCHOOL is best, not what city.

But I really do looove DC. I love my job, my friends, my life up here is good. I'm happy. Do I really want to tempt fate and move back to that land of unhappy memories? Or tempt fate in any way by changing what's already working out so well? But the job won't last forever. And friends sometimes move. A few are already talking about it. My closest friends are with me no matter where I go, and the others sometimes feel like activities. That's a terrible thing to say, but I guess I mean that a lot of friends are just fun-friends, right? People that we hang out with and drink with maybe and laugh with? But not friends who know your soul. I'm getting off my point here.

How do you make decisions? How do I convince yourself that time is on my side with this one? I guess that in some ways, even when it's not true, I feel like I'm running out of time. Or that I'm playing against it. I think that the reason you can't flip a coin to make a decision when you're adult is that adult decisions just have too many sides.

My Day. My Independence Day.

Yesterday was My Independence Day. My Day. Mine. A year ago exactly yesterday, I was freed to go find myself a new life. I may not have more fresh-start opportunities like that, and I hope that one day I'll stop craving them. But I doubt if any previous opportunities such as that have produced as much growth as the past year has.

The year before the past year...uh, so that was like two years ago...anyway, that year was a really painful and difficult year. And I'm sure there was some growth in there somewhere, but mostly, I think that year was about hanging on. I learned survival skills, I realized the strength I have, I better understood the bonds I have with certain family members and I learned a little more about what I do and do not need and want. So that was an important year to crawl through.

But the past year. The past year, I have finally become proud of myself. I've realized and accepted (and set out to improve) some of my faults. That is hard work, let me tell you, and quite tough cuz I'm sensitive. More than anything, I feel like I've realized and developed my independence. I've always been independent. But the past year, I feel like for the first time, I truly was. And I finally have a job that is personally and professionally satisfying. One that makes me feel good because I am part of making the world a better place and because I am actually pretty good at what I do. I never understood how fulfilling all that could be.

There's more work to do next year, but it's good to exhale and realize how far I've come. I'm still very insecure about some things, still have major problems with intimacy, still have fears and doubts, still get nervous and anxious too much, still need to be more responsible. Ugh. When I think about all there is to do, though, I get lost in that and can't see what all I've done. Sometimes we get focused on the logistics and stats. We want to see numbers, evidence, quantification of progress, of accomplishment. But that's just not what life is all about. Life is about all the things you don't plan, all the things you have to look for to find, all the things you miss when you're focused on other things. And life is in the feelings.

Yesterday, I felt a lot of feelings. Proud because something amazing and historic happened at work. Peaceful because I remembered what I was going through at this time last year and all the pain during that time that I don't feel anymore. Happy because I feel like I'm on the right track finally. But also sad that there wasn't someone to truly share all of that with (why do you keep missing all my big moments?!?). And nervous and fearful for all that is still unknown.

But as I fell asleep last night, after finishing an empowering book, after talking to one of my most favorite people and after thinking about the past, I watched those silly red lights blink on the Washington Monument and realized where I am now. And I saw the Capitol dome and all the hope it inspires me with and remembered that the best is still yet to come.

Under-the-bed Monsters

Faith is a funny thing. It really comes with being a grown-up. We have to have faith all the time. So much so that it could make a person go insane.

They always say, 'Have childlike faith,' but children don't have to have faith in anything. Mommy drives them to all the places they need to be, she feeds them, she clothes them, she makes all their decisions for them and she buys them the Christmas presents they ask for. They don't have to think about any of that stuff or worry about it at all. There's no faith necessary in the life of a child.

But as adults, we constantly have to believe in things we cannot see and be certain of what we hope for. All that fancy talk just means that we have to appease ourselves constantly. We have worries and fears that would be scarier to any kid than even the monster under her bed. And all the while, we have to tell ourselves whatever works to assauge our nerves and anxieties so we can get through another day doing all the things that we have to do.

I want to go back to kindergarten. When even though I worried about how late my mom might be in picking me up from daycare, it didn't take any ounce of miracle to have faith that she would show. Why can't Mommy get rid of all of my fears and doubts now? It's hard out here for a girl on her own. But that's the tricky part, isn't it? I'm not really a girl anymore. (shut up, Britney Spears...) I'm an adult.

Yikes. Maybe that's scarier than all my fears and doubts and under-the-bed monsters.

Growing Up

Getting older. Is that it? Sometimes I notice how jaded I've become, and it shocks me. Where did this come from? I don't recognize the person who has some of the thoughts that pop into my head. I've become so pessimistic, and it's involuntary. I do believe in love and magic and unicorns too (as my sweet friend Amanda always says!). I'm still idealistic and still believe that romance could be hiding just around the corner. But every once in awhile, I think about how impossible it seems to meet a person, go on a date and then years later, get married. How does that happen? And does it happen? It seems like such an impossible thing. Like ok, I 'could' win American Idol, but will I? No. It's possible, of course, but would never happen to me. Where did this ugly monster come from? And how do I get rid of it?

I don't spend as much time wondering about love and romance or other mystical creatures as I once did. I'm so happy now. I love my job, I feel like I matter. I love my friends and that I have so many. I love my apartment, my roommate, my new city home. And more importantly, I really love myself and have learned to stop trying to be someone else and stop making excuses. I like all the quirky things about me that I've been teased for in the past (affectionately and not so affectionately). And I'm just really enjoying my life right now.

Dating has become so complicated in the past few years. Everyone has so much baggage. And we're all starting to really hone in on what it is that we want, what we're looking for, and we've grown out of that 'putting up with crap' phase that lasted far too long.

I had the thought yesterday that launched me into this introspection. My cousin just got engaged, though, and maybe that's what led me to all this. I started thinking about how unrealistic it seemed that one date could ever lead to anything as huge and massive as marriage. They had a blind date. And two years later, they're engaged. It all seems almost hilarious to me. Like something I've seen on TV or in the movies. I mean, one day you have no idea that this person exists or maybe you do but you don't care, and then the next day, something happens and you never go another day without them. Isn't that just weird? And funny? Life is weird and funny.

So good for them. And good for everyone. I'll just sit by and enjoy playing 'the token single friend' role. I like who I am, and I like where I am in life. And in the end that's really what matters. And it's far from where I was this time last year. Besides, I'll know when I meet the guy I'm going to marry. Because he'll either be George from 'Grey's Anatomy' or Lloyd Dobbler from 'Say Anything.' And until that day comes, I'll enjoy the time I spend with them on the small screen in my living room. And enjoy every minute, I will!