Tag Archives: feelings

Confession

21 Aug

I woke up this morning with a feeling in my stomach as though I needed to confess my sins. That is the only way to describe how it felt, how it feels.

I need to confess my sins.

But what sins? That I love too much? That I care too deeply? That my passion is overwhelming some days, and that when I can’t keep it in, I leak from my eyes?

The only one I’m hurting is myself.

Maybe that is the sin that needs confessing. That my passion is killing me. Maybe not tomorrow, or even in a year…but without an outlet, it just swims around in my head, lurking behind my eyes. If you let yourself, you will see it there, struggling to be contained.

I suppose that is the difference between my sins and others. Others sins are based on a will of God; my sins are based on injustice to myself.

Truth Speak: Dorm Life, Why I Can’t Make Friends

12 May

All of the encounters we have in our day to day lives shape us into who we are. That doesn’t change as we get older; we just have more encounters under our belt.

The memory I’m about to share with you is actually a really painful memory, and unless I’ve blogged about it before (and forgotten) it isn’t something I share with many people.

I’ll start with saying that it hasn’t ever been easy for me to make friends, but it used to be easier. The biggest thing that usually stopped me was reservation and being introverted, which are pretty normal things. That also means I really value what friends I have, and I will go to the ends of the earth for my friends. I like to give as much as I can, but it is important for so many reasons – you send out positive vibes into the universe, and you’re not only happier, but you’re bound to get good back! Now, my story…

Five years ago, I was a sophomore in college living in the dorms. Things went really well when I first moved in. I met people and everyone seemed really cool and really nice. I have so many pictures from that year. I had a corner room, and we did all kinds of fun stuff in there, as I didn’t have a roommate. Life was good. It just so happens that I was living next to some really cute, really nice guys, which is the center of what happened.

I was interested in one of them, Rob. He was really nice, had a great smile, and was interested in things that I hadn’t been exposed to (which I find totally fascinating). Being the passive person I am, I was perfectly fine being friends. I knew I wasn’t going to ask him to date me, or make a move, or any such thing.

One day, we were talking, and he mentioned that he was super stressed and tired because he had so much to do for school that week. I decided to write him an encouraging note, because in college, we could all use some encouragement. I got out a purple marker and a piece of paper and wrote a simple note that said something along the lines of good luck with all your tests this week! I know you’ll do great! I stuck it under his door so he would see it before leaving for class, and went on my way.

The next day came and went, and no mention of the note. At one point, I saw it lying on the floor still, and couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t said anything. My question was answered by his neighbor on the other side, Marlena. I don’t remember why we were talking, or if there was a reason she brought it up, but she decided to tell me that I “needed to let up” because Rob said I was “starting to creep”.

At the time, it was hurtful, but nothing compared to how it feels now when I think back on it. I ended up grabbing the note when no one was looking, and ripping it up to throw in the trash.

The worst part? I never got to defend myself. Any attempt at the time was feeble at best, and I tried just to shake it off and forget about it. Little did I realize that 5 years later, I would hold back from attempting to make friends because asking someone to hang out made me feel like a predator. That’s real life, real time.

But I want them to know. I want them to know why, and how hurtful their words were.

Yes, I liked Rob. But I thought we were good enough friends that I could show him a nice gesture. That I could give him some encouragement in a rough time. I failed all but one of my classes that semester. I needed encouragement, and if I needed it, I knew others did, too. I wasn’t the first, though. Another girl on our floor had written at least a couple notes before, and taped them to his door. Was that my mistake? That I wanted to make sure he saw it before he went to class? I can’t figure out what made it creepy when I did it, but perfectly okay that she did. I had even heard him thank her for the nice note before, so when he didn’t even acknowledge that I reach out just made me feel terrible. I don’t even know why Marlena decided to tell me what she did, either. She wasn’t the nicest girl, but I can’t imagine someone wanting to make me feel that way when I hadn’t done anything to her. It doesn’t make sense that she would have said that to benefit me, though.

I hate that this has effected me as much as it has. I asked a coworker if she wanted to share a pizza with me after work and it caused me so much anxiety. I’m constantly worried that by reaching out to people to be friends, that they are going to label me the same. I don’t know how to get over this. I try to push myself out of my comfort zone, but even when I do hang out with these people, I still get anxiety when I think about continuing trying to be friends.

I really want this to reach these guys, one way or another. It probably won’t, but I think they deserve to know how their words affect others. I think deserve to defend myself. I think anyone could benefit from reading my story, too, because we tend to talk about others in less-than-positive ways. That can really impact someone, so spread the word.

Share so maybe it will reach these guys. Share so I can defend myself. Share so others might think twice about what they say when they talk about others. Any advice? I’m open.

Something Shared

27 Jan

“There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them”

 

That’s a quote from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s [Alchemist’s] Stone, and I find that it holds a great deal of truth.

While twelve-foot mountain trolls aren’t common over here in the states,  I think that another such thing is unrequited love unexpressed feelings when two people have shared feelings, but for whatever reason, they never developed into an actual, serious, full-time relationship.

It’s almost as if there is a place in each of your hearts, made especially for them, even though you have both long-acknowledged that nothing will ever blossom between you. And you both agree that it’s okay.

I have a friend like that. We both liked each other for a really long time (at least it felt really long), muddled by relationships and distance and life. We talked about it and while we weren’t quite on the same page at the same time, I think we both knew deep down that it couldn’t work. Eventually, we accepted that there is something shared between us that is special, but that we weren’t meant to be together, and we would never be together.

I don’t think this something is dangerous, or threatening. Like the quote said, there are some things you can’t share without liking each other, and I think the shared thing is a knowledge that it won’t work, no matter how crazy you are about each other, and the ‘liking each other’ part is the bond…the connection…you form from sharing that something.

It’s almost as if no matter how old you grow or how far you grow apart, you still have that bond.

Do you have any folks you feel this way about?

When “Alone” Doesn’t Begin to Cover It: Being the “Balanced” One

2 Dec

Over Thanksgiving, I was once again reminded of my role in the family: the balanced one. I don’t know how I got stuck with that title, but it appears I have no choice. My sister and my mother can’t seem to stand each other. One owes the other, and one can’t see that she’ll never be repaid. They are both anxious and nervous, and can’t seem to talk to one another even on the eve of my fathers death.

So Mom comes to me to cry about everything because my sister isn’t talking to her. My sister comes to me to cry about everything because she isn’t talking to my mom. No one seems to be able to remain calm but me.

Balance.

Being the balanced one means I don’t get a lot of time to be unbalanced, which sometimes I so desperately need. I have to be balanced, because if I become unhinged like everyone else, the world plummets into chaos. And I can’t handle chaos.

It’s lonely when you’re balanced.

My mother told me something on the phone the other day that I just can’t seem to shake. I know it’s true, and I know that means I’ll be alone. She told me, when talking about the grief counselor that hospice sends over once a week, that herself, my sister, and I will each need someone to be our rock on that day, and that my mom doesn’t think she will be able to do it.

I haven’t heard such a truthful statement.

And on that day, I will be the loneliest, most alone person on the planet. My mom has the grief counselor, my sister has her husband, and me…well…

I have no one.

But I’m the balanced one. And the balanced one must remain balanced, so naturally I will use logic to assess my emotions, that my emotions are valid, that death is necessary and predictable, and that having no one is a result of being balanced. Because only the balanced one can be okay without someone else to balance for them.

And on that day, I fear nothing more than my entire family becoming unhinged and estranged from one another, simply because the person who made the balanced person balance, is gone.

Death: Logic & Reason VS. Feelings & Emotion

27 Oct

I tend to be a very logical person. A great example (at least to me) was the time that I blacked out in a hotel. Once I started to come to, my first full thought was “Please don’t need to go to the doctor to get IV fluids”.

Or, when I get broken up with or rejected or anything of that nature, I always acknowledge that it’s okay if you don’t like me. It is. You can’t force anyone to like you or to love you, and we don’t have control over our feelings.

I do tend to be a very sensitive individual, too. I don’t have any great examples for that one, so you’ll just have to trust me.

With death, and this may be a “me” thing or an “everyone” thing, I find that these two seemingly contradictory processes makes dealing difficult.

My dad has officially been placed on hospice care. The treatment for his cancer is too hard on his body, and he has been given only a couple of months to live. I can only hope that is a conservative guess, and that he might have something closer to 4 or 6 months.

Being faced with my father passing soon, I find myself conflicted. I just don’t know how to feel.

Death is probably the most logical, reasonable, and expected thing in life. We know it’s coming from the second we know what death is. It happens to everyone and everything, and the only thing we don’t necessarily know is when and how. Because it is such a logical thing, I feel like I’m being somewhat cold to the situation. Of course I think it is too soon, and if I had a choice my dad wouldn’t have to leave me, but he does. If it wasn’t soon, it would be later, and it would still happen. It  will happen to my mom and my sister, and eventually me and my husband. My nieces and nephews. All of us.

But like I said, I’m a sensitive soul. I’m torn up that I’m losing my father. He won’t get to walk my down the aisle when I get married. He won’t see me get my next degree. I won’t be able to take care of him when he gets older and I have the ability. There are so many times I turn to my father to make me feel accepted, and happy, and justified in my feelings. I feel frustrated with myself when I start being logical about the situation.

I’m stuck in the middle. One part of me says that I should stay strong and carry on, that feeling overwhelmingly sad is unnecessary. The other part of me says that I should quit my job and glue myself to my dad’s side until he passes and that there should be no moment that I’m not crying.  One part says that it is time to accept what is happening and the other part says do not accept defeat – you aren’t ready to lose Dad yet.

On one hand, I’m quite fortunate to be able to sort these things out [somewhat] before he passes, but on the other, it gives me more time to think things over too much.

How do you deal with death? Do you reason yourself through it, or do you just let the emotion flow? Is this a weird “me” thing, or is this an “everyone” thing? With the death you’ve had to deal with, was it sudden or did you prepare prior to it’s occurrence? 

The Scariest Thing in the World

8 Feb

Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.

 

I think Baby got it right when she said this in Dirty Dancing.

My future right now is so uncertain, in all aspects of my life – my job, housing, school…love. And with that uncertainty comes fear. I’m afraid. I hate not knowing whats to come because when I don’t know whats coming, I just imagine the worst.

That fear that she describes is a feeling of uncertainty and it’s one that I know too well. I hate it so much, and it runs so deep that it’s all-consuming. If someone told me right now, with absolution, that this fear was reality, I don’t know how I could bear it.

Whats the scariest thing in the world? Have you shares Baby’s fear?

30 Day Letter Challenge: Dear Bestie

12 Jun

To introduce what I’m doing before I just jump in…there are various “30 Day Challenges” running amuck around the interwebs. One of them, as introduced to me by a subscriber/friend/blogger I follow, is a letter challenge. Basically, you just post a letter each day to the person dictated by the challenge list. So, here we go. I hope you enjoy reading. I think this might be as raw as my writing gets, so it might not make much sense, but I suppose that’s how my brain flows.

 

Dear Bestie,

We haven’t always been best friends, and I’m not sure if you even consider me your best friend, but at this point in my life you are definitely my best friend.

I’ve actually been afraid to label it that for a long time, but I don’t know why. Seems silly.

You are there for me through thick and thin, and you’ve always been so supportive of me. I can only hope that I have been supportive of you, and that I’ve been able to match your niceness and generosity.

No one else has made such attempts to stay in contact with me. I so wish you would move to Fort Collins; you would love it here.

Remember all the nights we would “break in” to old houses trying to scare ourselves? Or the nights we would drive up and down 6th street for hours, some times dancing like fools?

What about the time we didn’t talk to each other for 2 weeks? I’m so glad that we pulled through that, because it is not something I would have wanted to look back on and regretted. It was really stupid of us.

But we made it. I look forward in the future and see you living only an hour away, so that we can hang out whenever we want. I see friend dates and cooking parties and card nights. Definitely card nights.

Hopefully, I’ll see you soon. I miss you so much!!

Always, Me