Repeat

It just popped into my head. Standing outside the laundromat. It came like a sudden bolt of lightning that struck me square in the head. It won't leave. It must be important. The poorly lit faded grocery store, the run down dollar store, the abandoned ice cream shop, the tailor with photos that don't do the 80's hairstyles much justice. Then, the laundromat. With it's gleaming row up on row of shinning, whirring machines. Standing in awkward silence, barely able to hear the sound from the crappy sitcom. Black haired children screeching up and down the aisles. Finding some joy in the monotony that is the repetition of laundry. Wash. Dry. Hang. Fold.Wash. Dry. Hang. Fold.


Why did it make us so bitter. Hauling over flowing baskets of crumpled up socks and stained t-shirts. Bags of hangers. Hours sitting on hard chairs. Fighting. Every time we fought. I can't remember a time that we didn't. 


It's odd how memories that you've tucked away suddenly appear one day. Almost out of thin air. As if they are there to remind you of something. That a present event triggered a long ago forgotten moment. Even when we tuck things away life has a way of opening up those sealed treasure chests. I know it's often said to forget the past, but you wouldn't have your present with out it. 


Life is about washing away our faults. Drying our hands from things we regret. Folding up bad thoughts. Hanging on to insecurities. 


It's also about washing away insecurities. Drying up our fears. Folding away pre-conceived notions. Hanging on to the good moments in our life. 

Solitude

You can change your hairstyle, you can change your self esteem, you can rearrange your furniture, you can pep yourself up and say this is gonna be different. But. There are some things no matter how you finagle it are never going to change.  When you are sitting at home for the millionth time, mascara running and cat tail curled around your arm and you don't understand why. You've made an effort to meet new people, gone out on social outings, tried new things, met new people. Why. It's the only word that loops in your mind. It kills you to look in your fathers face and weep like a little girl. High heels rubbing against your toes, screaming. Like the voice in your heart. Why. What makes me stick out like a sore thumb yet disappear against the wallpaper. Why. Are you the person since the 8th grade dance has been smushed into pictures like a scraggly dog trying to be seen amongst the puppies. Do we all just have roles that we have been cast to play. Why do we look at the characters around us and want their leading role.  Is it the spotlight, the unknown, the mystery, the image that their world is better? Is acceptance that hard. Is acceptance, admitting defeat? Why is so hard to accept the role you've been cast to play. Is it because social mores and cues dictate otherwise? We're bombarded with images of what we should be and how are lives are suppose to stack up. We're being set up for failure. If I could have one superpower, I'd want to be able to blink and try it all again. To know what I do know and try it again. It's hypocritical really. I always say that things happen for a reason and yet here I am saying I wish that I could change it. If I hadn't had my heart broken, I'd never have met my guitar teacher, if I'd gotten my nursing license I'd never have the memories with my best friend. It's like being the kid in the candy store wanting it all but never able to quite reach the tippiest top shelf.

Hurt

It's like this little tiny knot that clinches itself in the middle of your breast bone. Little drops that hang on the cliff of your eye lids. It may be easier to just cry it out to curl up in your bed amongst the pile of socks that need to be sorted. Why is is that time and time again, weekend after weekend, sob after sob I'm left at home. The after thought to people's days. Why is it that change after change I can't seem to shake the victim role. I'm left at home waiting for a phone to ring. You made a promise not with the actual word but with your word as a friend. And it's not just one of you it's four of you. The four people who are the rocks in my life have yet again let me down. Why is it that I'm always waiting for people to squeeze me into their schedules. Why am I always surprised when you don't call why is it that I find it OK. Because I have so few people in my life that being mad at the very few would mean losing the only support that I have. There must be some recurring theme as to why people are always leaving my life. I just can't seem to find it. I've been searching for over ten years. Can someone rip off the band aid and tell me what I'm doing wrong.  I'd like to not be home on a Saturday night, alone, again.

LIFE IS GOOD

Well, world. I'm officially several pounds lighter and I'm not talking about from my hips. Nope, I'm talking about my heart. I washed my hands clean today. This feeling hasn't quite settled in yet. I still have this lingering feeling.

I've never been through a bad break up before but having gone through it I value the experience as a great tool and life lesson. I always thought that people who sobbed about hurting hearts needed to "man up" so to speak. I now take it all back. Having your heart ripped out of you like an alien abduction hurts like you have never known before. You feel quite literally like the expression, the rug has been pulled out from under you. I went to work that morning and tried my best to keep it together but in the end crumbled. I couldn't work, I couldn't function. Here was this person that I had developed two years of trust and confidence and had built a life with now suddenly it was all gone. In the blink of an eye my whole world was turned upside down.

Yet, I wouldn't trade the hurt the anguish and the few following weeks of sheer incapacity to function. Being knocked on my ass like that was the biggest wake up call I've received. It was self esteem boot camp. I had to go back and re-evaluate myself as a person, an individual, a member of society, my family life and my dreams. I never realized just how miserable I had been for 2 years. That I had been hiding my hurt and fear and insecureness in someone that had been enabling me to live like that. What kind of sick life is that ? Well, I can tell you now that it is no life.

Slowly, piece by piece, step by step I have begun to rebuild my self and my world. Moving back home with your parents could be an article or a blog unto itself. It has taken some getting used to, the giving up your space and independence and for me my kitchen.

I began by removing the social media traces, the phone number and today his belongings. They had been sitting in a box for far too long. A constant reminder of what used to be. Literal baggage sitting in my trunk. Sincerity and kindness were easy to fake through e-mails and text messages but maintaining that civility in person was not going to be easy. So, I  found a recruit. I had my best friend come along for both moral support and a welcome distraction.

Granted I was a half hour late but I swear to you I did not do that on purpose. This otherwise timely person just ran into some speed bumps on my way out the door. I didn't begin to feel the knots in my stomach until we began to near the restaurant. My whole body began to feel the nausea one may experience on a roller coaster ride. He looked as he did before,  only well, this is public domain so I'll be kind and abstain from commenting. The conversation was awkward but my friend helped keep it pleasant, if that's the appropriate word. I was ready to be done and the air was bitting my pale cheeks. My legs would not quit trembling, I was shaking worse than a leaf. All of the grief was beginning to wash away. I finally felt as though I could finally devote my whole heart to the new wonderful man in my life.

So, world. I give to you a woman who is happy, high on life, ready to tackle the world, able to conquer the unknown and as the sign in my room says:

"LIFE IS GOOD"


:)