We'll All Float On...

I feel like I’ve been trying to explain how I’m feeling for the past hour and I just don’t know the right way to verbalize it.  I’m really hard on myself. Like…REALLY hard on myself. Nothing I do is ever good enough, and there’s nothing I feel truly proud of. I changed my ways of thinking when it came to self-confidence. I worked really hard on myself for that, but it hasn’t fixed everything. I don’t hate what I see when I look in the mirror anymore, but I don’t care for who I am right now.

Let me restate that: I like who I am as person. I think I’m a good person, and I’m proud of that. I think I just hate where I am in life, and how hard I am on myself.

I’m an outgoing person, but I’m a timid person. I’m afraid of failure, and I’m afraid of success. I’m afraid of dying alone, and I’m afraid of falling in love. I’m afraid of change, and I’m afraid of routine. I feel like I’m just nonchalantly floating through life, terrified. Terrified of literally everything whether I love it or hate it, I’m afraid of it. When good things start happening I start to freak out because “this can’t last”. When bad things start happening I’m like “I knew this would happen”.  I just haven’t figured out how to stop that process, or how to push past the fear. So I just…float.

            I feel like I don’t know how to stop the floating. I’m stuck in my daily routine of school-work-school-work, and I hate it. I’m also afraid of what comes when that routine ends. What if I can’t get a job after I graduate? What if I got my degree in the wrong thing and I’m back to square one? Time isn’t a friend to youth, it’s fleeting and I just really want my shit together before I’m 30. How do I work past the harsh self-judgment, and the paralyzing fear of literally everything?

            

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Facts from: endsexualviolenceect.org

"One in four women and one in 6 men will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. In 8 out of 10 rape cases, the victim knows the perpetrator. Nearly 6 out of 10 sexual assaults occur in the victim’s home or the home of a friend, relative, or neighbor."

            I recently saw a video going around on Facebook of Trump at some rally talking about Elizabeth Warren. To sum it up he said “I’m going to get Pocahontas a DNA kit, and I’m going to toss it at her – very gently- (in a mocking tone) because we’re in this ‘me too’ movement, so hopefully it doesn’t hit her hard in the arm.” Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t meant to be a political post, but this video got me thinking. This isn’t a #metoo “movement”. It’s a final straw. Women are done being objectified, underrated, taken advantage of, harassed, and assaulted. I’m one of those women. This is something I never intended to put online, but I think it’s important for us to speak up.

             A guy I trusted slipped something into the drink he so kindly bought me, and then dragged me through the city to his apartment. I woke up with my shorts around my ankles confused, disoriented, bruises on my arms, and humiliated. He was my friend? What kind of person does this? I had to go to my cousins birthday party that next day. I had to meet my god daughter for the first time with those bruises forever in the photos. I had a close friend tell me I was probably wrong, and he didn't actually do this to me. I think the disbelief hurt worse than the actual act.

 It took a long time for me to be ok again. It took a lot of love and patience from friends and family. It’s an uncomfortable story to tell, but I’m not embarrassed about it anymore. I was with people I knew, and I thought I was in a safe environment. I thought I was doing everything right for a safe night out. He’s the one who should be embarrassed. Society will say: “You shouldn’t have been drinking. Maybe if you weren’t wearing a crop top, and accepting his drink offers, he wouldn’t have taken it as a sign of approval.” I call bullshit. I shouldn’t have to hide in my house trusting no one. This kid grew up in my neighborhood. We were friends. I knew him. Why should I, a legal adult, have to not engage in the party?

I tell this story because I’m not ashamed. I’m not what happened to me, none of us are. I’m hoping the more we talk about it, the more society will see what a problem we have. It’s time to reset the standards, shut down those who shut us down, and start applying accountability to the perpetrators. If you have a story to tell, but you're afraid, feel free to leave it here. Get a conversation started because no one should have to hold onto these horrors alone. 

Pre-dating Hoopla

·      Dating limbo

·      Dating purgatory

·      Pre-dating

·      Talking

Listed above is a combination of words that all stand for the same thing, and that’s the new bullshit first phase of “dating”.  It’s where you’re basically dating, but you’re not ready for a label. Everything is probably still on the hush-hush, and it’s what you go through before you decide whether this person is worth dating or not. It’s like we’re signing up for our free trials with a person, and when it’s time to finally pay up - we cancel.

How long are we expected to go through the pre-dating screening process? Is it a couple of weeks, a month, a few months? This whole pre-dating hoopla is mental torture.  This phase makes me constantly wonder. I wonder if I’m doing something wrong? I wonder if I can text him first? Can I invite him to hang out? What are the expectations? Do we even have expectations? The inconsistency of this generation is…unfair, to say the least.

      Of course I like the guy, but when is it appropriate to say so? There is that constant fear of running them off. You don’t want to come off as “clingy.” But how much time is too much time in dating purgatory?  After a certain amount you start to ask yourself, “are they just stringing me along?” And when is the hard hitting answer to that – ‘yes’?

Siren Call and the Storm

I’m a hopeless romantic. I hear the siren call, and I come every time. Sometimes those sirens are disguised as people I care about. The last one just happened to be my best friend. Let me paint you the picture of endearment, and the easy manipulation I was given.

            Intelligent, funny, blonde hair, blue eyes, loves his family, and never treated a girlfriend less than a queen.  He moved away to go to college, but we remained extremely close. We had this internal bond that I’ve never experienced with another person before, so when he called me in the middle of the night one day…I picked up. He was at bar with his friends and they were talking about regrets, and what you wished you would’ve done if you were to die tomorrow. I was his regret; I didn’t realize he would become mine.

            I’ll leave the details of the phone call between the two of us, but it was special at the time. We both confessed our feelings. Two months later, he’s dating a girl where he lives. Uh…ok…? I was upset, but I couldn’t really get mad that he found someone out where he lived. That wouldn’t be fair. That relationship of his was messy, and toxic. We were still friendly, but a little less because she didn’t like how close we were. Again, I honestly couldn’t be too mad about that because if the roles were reversed, I’d feel the same way. Long story short, they break up and he flies home for the holidays.

            Our friends and him were going out, and he calls and asks me where I am. I meet them at the bar, and after 30 minutes we were in my car discussing everything. I’m not a girl who enjoys talking about her feelings. I find vulnerability impossible, and mortifying. But I could do it with him. He kissed me goodnight, and it was like time stopped. (I almost hate myself admitting that, but it was like we were put in a vortex.) We go on a couple of dates before he leaves, and decided I’d come visit him after Christmas. The trip went great, everything was as perfect as I could’ve imagined.  We’d talk for hours on end on the phone, and he’d send me messages filled with everything I ever wanted to hear. Turns out, it was all a load of shit. I fell for his bullshit, and shame on me for that. Eventually he told me he couldn’t do it and got back with his ex. 

            That ended up not lasting, and he came crawling back with apologies. I accepted because I’m not a bridge burner, although, sometimes you need to be. I couldn’t though because I wasn’t ready to lose him completely. We kept the relationship at a friendship level, but our conversations were much more than that. Typing it all out is making me realize I fell in love with his words, not him. But I’m a Gemini. I crave that level of communication, so you can’t fully blame me. (At least that’s what I’m going to tell myself.) I’m a sucker, what can I say?

            We kept the friendship going really strong for about a year, and then he found a girl out where he lives that he really liked. That’s where I lost my mind. I kept quiet, but I couldn’t take it. He’d tell me about his dates with her, or ask me for gift ideas for Valentines Day. Just rip my heart in half. It’s fine. I’m fine. I was so not fine. I ended up walking away from the friendship. Truth of the matter was, I didn’t want to be just friends with him. It wasn’t enough for me, no matter how much I cared about him. The siren call was not worth my sanity. I’d be lying if I said it’s been over a year and I don’t miss him. Cause I do. Some days are better than others, and some days I just feel like I need my best friend. I may be a hopeless romantic, but I’m not hopelessly stupid. I know I made the right choice by swimming away from my siren. Who is the siren in your life? How’d you get over them? Did you?

If You Can't Seem to Let Go...Find Your Piece of Glass

When I was 16 I started dating a guy at my high school. The relationship was never healthy. He was a cheater, and constantly doing things behind my back. I had such low self-esteem that I accepted it. I didn’t think anything of myself, so why would anyone else? How could anyone else love me? Fast-forward 5 years, and we’re still together. It’s New Years of 2013, and he’s drunk. I wasn’t drinking because I was on call to babysit, and sure enough got called so I had to leave. He was not happy about that. I get in my car, he comes running outside yelling at me. He kept shouting, “Open your door. Roll down your fucking window!”  I refused. Long story short, he ends up punching the window. Once the glass was cleaned off my clothes, out of my hair, and my car I left. I tried to stick around to be supportive and get him help, but there are some things people shouldn’t accept. Abuse in any form is one of those things. One broken window to match the broken that was I; I finally left him. It was the best thing I have ever done for myself. I had to learn how to be alone for the first time in my adult life, and I had to learn how to love myself.

However, 2015 was the most challenging year of my life. I had never felt more alone, or sadder. The thought of getting back together with him was comforting. It was a safety net (that wasn’t very safe at all.) but in my haze, it seemed better than being alone. One day in the transition from winter to spring, one of those perfect 70-degree sunny days, I decided to clean out my car. As I was dusting my windshield, I found a shard of glass. Every thought of wanting to get back with him had vanished. I cleaned the rest of the car and tucked the glass back under my windshield where it can’t be seen. Only I know it’s there.

            2016 came and went, and it was one of the best years of my life. It was the beginning of the happiest I’ve ever been. It’s 2018 and I’ve got an incredible group of friends, I have found love for myself (which I’ll do a post on how I got there later), I’m dating, and I’m back in school with real goals. When you’re stuck in that haze of “what could have been” you have a hard time remembering the bad stuff. It only takes one reminder, and positive thinking, but you CAN live without this person. You CAN be alone and learn how to be happy about it. You CAN move on. I promise. So find your piece of glass, tuck it away and remember: life goes on.