How to Win

It's the first of December, which means I will be 35 years old before this month is over.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having a bit of a hard time with this.  In many ways, I don't even feel like I've reached adulthood, let alone 35 year-old adulthood.  Sure, I'm capable of adult things like dressing and feeding myself, getting to and from work every day, and paying bills (I mean physically paying them, not necessarily being able to afford them).   I manage to care for a bunch of living, breathing, emotional creatures who seem to be pretty happy with the life I've given them.  And, while I continuously remind myself to be grateful for all of the wonderful things I have, rather than focusing on the things I don't (some of which I don't even really want), I continue to wish, I continue to dwell, and I continue to question why I can't just stop the war that plays out in my own head every single day.  It's kind of a catch-22...the more good things I have in my life, the shittier I feel for ever feeling shitty in the first place because, really, I have so much to be happy about.  So while the rational thoughts struggle to punch the irrational in the face over and over and over, the irrational just keep getting up and fighting back.  And, frankly, it's exhausting for everyone.  Some days, I feel like giving up the fight.  Some days, I feel like I should let go of everything that makes me happy because I'm just pissing on it anyway and it's not fair.  But, there are days, though much less frequent, when I am full of light and hope and confidence and a sense that I'll be just fine... great, even.  On those days, I have so much to give, so much to offer the world, and have no problem giving a big middle finger to all of the things I don't have as I wrap my arms around everything I do.  So, while 35 has the potential to be a really awesome year, in some ways the passing of time has done me more harm than good, and I am apprehensive about what another year will do.  The clock ticks with every irrational, self-destructive thought that crosses my mind and decides to make camp there, as I work up the strength to keep putting out the fires they start.  I'm used to the burns, and the scars that they leave, but my skin is starting to weaken.  I guess 35 will just have to be the year I finally figure out how to win.

The Hardest Goodbyes

We hug our loved ones a little tighter in the shadow of someone's passing.
We learn that we should live every day like it's our last because it just might be.
We tell the people we love how we feel in case we don't get another chance to.
And, with tears in our eyes, we understand just how fragile this life is.

But, as time moves on, these lessons fade, and we return to assuming the people we love know how we feel, that there's plenty of time, there'll be plenty of chances.  Call it human nature, call it optimism, call it hope, call it selective amnesia.
And while we go about our days complaining about the worst parts of growing up...work, bills, responsibilities...we ultimately realize that the worst part of growing up is actually the realization that, at any given moment, we could receive that phone call; the one telling us someone we care about is gone forever.

So then we hug our loved ones a little tighter.
We learn that we should live every day like it's our last.
We tell the people we love how we feel.
And, with tears streaming down our faces, we understand just how fragile this life is.

The hardest goodbyes are the ones that are never spoken, the ones we never saw coming, the ones that occur only in our minds, only after they've gone.  The hardest goodbyes take a piece of our hearts, steal a bit of our souls, but always carry a message.  We can listen or we can ignore it.  We can learn or we can forget.  We can re-write it, share it, or keep it to ourselves.  We can be strong and say that everything will be alright.  And it will.  But those who claim to be an open book always have a story behind their eyes that they will never tell.

And now, in the strong embrace of grief, in the aftermath of the hardest goodbye,
We hug our loved ones a little tighter,
We learn that we should live every day like it's our last,
We tell the people we love how we feel,
And, as the tears dry up on our cheeks, we understand just how fragile this life is.

5 Things That Scare Me About Anxiety

1.  I won’t be a good ______________.

            …friend, girlfriend, employee, daughter, aunt, sister…and the list goes on.  There are times when anxiety prevents me from engaging.  I don’t want to be around people.  Everything is a reminder of something I want, but don’t have, can’t do, etc.  And so I retreat.  To others, though, I can completely understand why my lack of engagement may seem like disinterest, like I’m selfish, like I just don’t care.  Yet, I can’t always make myself put on a happy face and “fake it ‘til I make it,” as the saying goes.  In fact, I am currently looking at a quote that says, “Be as you wish to seem.”  Good advice, but easier said than done. 

2.  I will ruin my own life.

            Similarly, if I’m perceived as a bad friend, an uncaring girlfriend, a slacking employee, I stand to lose the things in my life that are most important to me.  If you could see into my soul, past the layers of anxiety, fear, and sadness, you would see nothing but love.  My actions, however, sometimes tell a different story. 

3.  The people in my life won’t know how much they mean to me.

           

            Very few people know me well enough to see through the veil of anxiety; to not be fooled by the mask of detachment I sometimes wear.  What appears to be indifference is really no such thing.  But I can’t expect people to read my mind.

 

4.  I don’t understand where it came from.

            As far as I know, no one else in my family has struggled with anxiety or depression.  So, if not genetics, then what?  Why have I been dealt the hand of this affliction?  And, while I’ve certainly always been a moody person, and probably suffered from some level of anxiety for most of my life, beginning well before the diagnosis, this whole anxiety thing still feels relatively new.  I actually cringe even using the word, as I feel it’s become overused to the point of almost being cliché.  But, I assure you, it is very real.

 5.  It will never go away.

            The worst part about anxiety is simply the intrusion on my ability to live the life I want to live, the life I feel I deserve.  I can’t handle things I feel as though, as a normal human being, I should be able to handle, and I know that makes no sense to people who can.  But the reality is, I guess I’m not “normal.”  And I’m okay with that part.  I just want to be able to feel emotions without the debilitating aftermath.  I want to be able to endure common stressors without the crippling fear.  I want to be able to show the people I care about that they mean the world to me.  And I want to enjoy life in all of its beautiful, baffling glory.

Duality

A critical battle to fight with limited weapons,
A war I am simultaneously convinced I can win
And sure I am destined to lose.
The melody of love or the low bass of comfort,
A soft cleansing rain turned into a reckless storm,
A world of possibility hidden under a brutal reality.

Something so full must surely have a leak
Something so strong must eventually turn weak.

It's a ray of sunshine and a choking shadow,
A heart full of hope dusted with an empty doubt,
My greatest victory undone by my worst defeat,
The biggest smile followed by the smallest belief,
An endless ambition stunted by a crippling fear,
The warmest hug disturbed by the coldest stare.

A constant duality with an unrelenting grip
A past and a future blinding my vision
A candle blown out by an unreasonable wish
And a rainbow outdone by the darkest cloud.

If the worry doesn't kill me,
The wonder still will.
If the truth can save me,
I will grow stronger still.

Until I resolve this aching duality
I fight the good fight and keep my head held high.
Until I can fix the holes in my soul,
I'll continue to aim for a bright clear blue sky.

Because I Can

She looks up at him with big, brown eyes full of hope and says, “Daddy, some day I’m gonna be The President of the United States.”

He looks at her and smiles, though he doesn’t take it seriously.

But, to her, his smile means, “I CAN.”

She performs in her first dance class, and sings in her first choir recital.

She says, “Mom, I’m gonna be the next Beyonce.”

She looks at her, thinking, “Isn’t she precious?”

But, to her, that embrace says, “You make me proud.”

She graduates from high school first in her class

She says,” Someday, everybody’s gonna know my name.”

They dismissed her ambition, mistaken for silly dreams,

And, to her, their indifference means, “You’ll never make it.”

She stands proudly at her college commencement

She thinks, “I can achieve anything I want.”

She holds her head up high with a bold realization

And, to her, it says, “You are free to be great.”

No matter what anyone else says,

I will forever be the baby with the brown, hopeful eyes

And I know that my dreams will come true

Simply because I believe I CAN.

I CAN.

Goodnight

Like a breeze, she can feel it, but she can't quite grasp it.
"I can be everything you want," she thought, "if only you'd give me the chance."
This is nothing new, this situation that she's in.
"I'm only human," she tells him, "I will make mistakes."
And just as the breeze begins to slow, and the stillness settles in, she breathes in the memory,
Smells the stench of regret mixed with the perfume of destiny.
Someday, she will have it all.
Someday, she will silence the noise.
Someday, she will bury the doubt, and hope will bloom in its place.
And so she sits in the dark, glowing from within
Because the only light that needs to shine comes from a place no one has seen.
She wonders what he's thinking as their fingers intertwine.
"Let me come inside," she says, though he knows not what she means.
He holds her slightly tighter to avoid the revelation.
Someday, she will break the wall.
Someday, she will find the way.
Someday, she will illuminate the world with her smile.
As she closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep.
The magic of the moon washes over her soft skin,
Spine-tingling, like the sweetest nightmare.
The lucid reality of a love that never was
Lays its head on her pillow and kisses her forehead,
Whispering, "Goodnight."

Call Me Crazy

Definition of CRAZY

1

a :  full of cracks or flaws :  unsound <they were very crazy, wretched cabins — Charles Dickens>

b :  crooked, askew

2

a :  mad, insane <yelling like a crazy man>

b (1) :  impractical <a crazy plan> (2) :  erratic <crazydrivers>

c :  being out of the ordinary :  unusual <a taste for crazyhats>

3

a :  distracted with desire or excitement <a thrill-crazy mob>

b :  absurdly fond :  infatuated <he's crazy about the girl>

c :  passionately preoccupied :  obsessed <crazy about boats>

       (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/crazy) 

adjective, crazier, craziest.

1.

mentally deranged; demented; insane.

2.

senseless; impractical; totally unsound:

a crazy scheme.

(http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/crazy)

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the term "crazy" lately.  Particularly after reading the Elite Daily article (posted by Huffington Post) titled, "7 Reasons Why You Should Date Someone Who's Just a Little Bit 'Crazy,'" and being called "a nut" by a guy I'd never actually met.  Would I call myself "a little bit crazy"?  Absolutely.  Would I call myself "mentally deranged" or "demented"?  Hell no.  If we look at the definitions above, there's a lot of room for interpretation when it comes to this word.  I kind of like the first one, "full of cracks or flaws."  After all, one of my favorite quotes, from James Frey's A Million Little Pieces is, "Everything has a crack in it.  That's how the light gets in."  So, really, if I'm full of cracks, I also have the potential for more light, right?  My kind of crazy is kind of a combination of "passionately precoccupied" and "senseless."  My kind of crazy comes from a tendency to feel everything very intensely.  When I love, I love hard.  When I'm sad, my whole world closes in on me.  While this intensity can manifest as passion, affection, thoughtfulness, and dedication, it can also manifest as, well, crazy.  I might curse you out and tell you to never speak to me again even though I barely know you because you frustrate me and don't seem to get me.  Or, I may clean the house in a French maid's uniform and heels, then cook you dinner, and top it off with...dessert (wink, wink) because I know it will make you happy, even if I hate cleaning and cooking.  I might cry because you haven't responded to my text in over two hours, or I might greet you with the warmest smile and hug, go anywhere you want to go, watch any movie you want to see, and tell you how amazing you are.  Has my craziness caused problems in my relationships in the past?  Yup.  Is it preventing me from finding my next relationship?  Maybe.  But, it's me.  It's who I am.  Most of the time, it's harder on me than it could possibly be for my [potential] partner.  I haven't changed in 33 years, so I doubt I ever will.  It's not about trying to change myself, it's about finding someone with his own brand of crazy that meshes well with mine.  Rather than hate myself for it, I choose to embrace the crazy.  I hope you'll join me.  ;-)