Silhouettes

When I think of moving on, I picture a particular incident or a situation, and I picture myself packing up a backpack and walking away from it. Sometimes I feel like I’m running down the road, the situation is literally behind me, so far behind me that I can’t see it through the dust I’ve kicked up. And then there are the other times, where it seems to take me forever to even find my pack. I eventually start stuffing the bag, but man I am moving at a snail’s pace. Sometimes I want to strap on my Nikes and hightail it, and sometimes, I’m too scared to even lace them up. And, that – right there – is why I believe so many people (sometimes I included) hang onto their pasts. Fear of the future.

The future is uncertain. We all know this - there are no guarantees. I could die before I finish writing this post. For some people, this is exhilarating, the unknown, the excitement and anticipation of what is to come. For others, like me (IE: control freaks) unknowns are terrifying. I would much rather make a giant list and plan out the next 10 years of my life, than live as I am currently forced to – leaving it up to the stars. Uncertainty makes me anxious; it makes me physically ill at times. However, through many (many, many, many) therapy sessions, I’ve learned just because I cannot control things external to myself, does not mean I lack all control. Once I discovered this – I felt somewhat liberated. No, I can’t control my future, I can’t make someone promise to not break my heart, I can’t be guaranteed I’ll keep this secure job. But I can control how I react to these events should they occur. I can control how I handle the situation, and that can be quite powerful. 

Now… back to moving on. We’ve established that the future is one big question mark – in contrast, the past is a big exclamation point. We look at the past and hold onto it because it’s secure. We know the outcome; we know if we continue to follow the paths we’ve been on for years, we will go the same places. Some people are content to keep on these same paths. They like these routes, they are pretty and rewarding enough in themselves that straying to something different isn’t necessary. For others, this becomes monotonous. The paths get boring, the person you’re hiking with turns out to be a bad travel partner and so, you have to make a decision. You can keep walking and hope after enough miles you’ll feel that contentment, or you can take a different route. 

The catch is, and one that I feel so many “hikers” fail to think of is that it’s physically impossible to travel two trails at once, and even if you could, there is no way to have the utmost rewarding experience one trail has to offer, if you keep looking back at the other. In order to fully embrace what the future has to offer, you have to let go of your past. 

The last man I was extremely serious about melted me. When he left I barely recognized myself in the mirror, but I couldn’t let him go. Sure, I physically didn’t have him anymore, but I wouldn’t let myself move completely forward. He had moved on, and I needed to so badly, but it took me FOREVER. I looked for every excuse not to, but eventually I packed up my bag, I tied my shoes, I started down my new path.  I stopped every few steps to look over my shoulder, hoping that I was making the right choice, but while looking over my shoulder I was missing the beautiful scenery around me. I was so focused on what was behind me; I was missing what was right in front of me. It was only when something caught my attention and drew my eyes forward that I really moved on. I started walking faster and looking back less frequently. Soon enough, I was able to look behind me and see just the silhouettes. And I liked that, the silhouette reminders of my past. Some were pretty, some made me laugh; others reminded me why I left, but none beckoned me to return. 

I’m not saying that the trail I’m on now is the one I’ll be on forever, but so far it’s a great one. I am living each day in the present, appreciating the people and experiences I have in my life right now, not the ones I wish were or have been, and I believe it’s because of this I can look back every once in a while, if not for perspective but for prosperity. 

So I dare you to let go. I dare you to confront an issue that you’re too scared to tackle and hit it head on. Leave the remnants in your dust and look forward to this gorgeous path you’re on. After all, nothing ruins a future like holding onto the past.

My future's so bright, I gotta wear shades

Baggage

I strive to be seen and live my life as a strong, independent woman, but there are times, especially of late when I think it’s all a façade. I’m 29 (ok…almost 30). I’ve been through more things in my almost 30 years here on earth, than most people go through in a whole lifetime. I spent a good majority of my childhood bouncing from ERs to ICUs. I was married and divorced early in my twenties and I lost my dad when I was far too young. But, I don’t focus on the difficulties my health issues pose and I haven’t let my failures define me. I keep my head up and my eyes focused down the road.

I come with more than my fair share of baggage. Granted, I like to think of it more like designer Louis Vuitton trunks than Hefty bags. My health is probably the biggest in my luggage ensemble. When I strip myself down to the core of my issues, I’m pretty high maintenance. No, it doesn’t take me 2 hours to get ready in the morning, but I am very limited as to what I can do in my daily life. I have to watch what I eat, where I go, what I breathe, how hot or cold I get. I have to pay attention to what meds I’ve taken and how accessible I am to medical care in the case of an emergency. These are all things I keep for the most part, hidden. Thoughts of this nature probably run through my mind at least 10 times a day, and that’s not an exaggeration. My luggage – designer or not, has started to wear me down. 

I’ve been carrying these suitcases of thoughts and issues all by myself for years now. I’ve tried to do so with grace and dignity, but I’m starting to stumble. I’m having a hard time asking for a hand. I do not like to be looked upon with pity. When people see me, I want them to see what I’ve accomplished and who I am as a person, before they see the pile of Louis Vuitton bags behind me, so I do things for others to let them know that not only can I take care of myself, but I can take care of them too.  For me, asking for help is admitting I can’t do it on my own, and doing it on my own is what I’ve been trying to do all along. 

I’m not looking for someone to take on my problems and fix them. I’m more looking for someone to walk next to me and carry a couple of my bags, but everyone holds on to some of their issues and yeah, mine are wrapped up in pretty packaging, but these suckers are heavy! It’s going to take someone pretty extraordinary to look past their own collection of baggage and say to me “hey, I see the mass amount of couture luggage you have there. Looks a bit heavy, why don’t I give you a hand?”. I don’t want someone to take away all my problems, I just want someone to look at them with me and tell me that in the end, they aren’t as big as they seem.

While I appreciate the fact that I have and have had to struggle to get places in my life (I feel that hardships make my victories sweeter) I’m ready to be done facing my battles alone.

Cherry

As I’m sure most of you know, I recently broke up with my boyfriend. I’m not one to rehash the gory details of relationships past and I have too much respect for Him to play the “fault” game; therefore I will not be writing the details of why this past union didn’t pan out. I am going to write about how awesome it felt to put myself first.

 In no way was this an easy decision. My heart broke, I cried. I cried a lot. I cried the ugly cry. I made a trip home, I ate junk food, I prayed (and for those of you who really know me, you know how desperate I must have been at that point) I begged, literally and I pleaded. Then like a cold slap in my face, I got off my knees, wiped my nose and stood up for myself.

My problem is one I believe many women deal with when in relationships. We are looking for our other half. When we start dating someone, we realize how special they are, we start to merge lives together. Before you know it that person has their own towel in your bathroom, their own cereal in your cupboard and their own “spot “on your couch. While that’s all fine and good, if you’re not careful you start to get sucked into thinking that you are a better person now then you were before Mr. Towel-in-the-Bathroom came along.  And who can blame us? Being the other half to someone is romanticized. How many times have we heard “you complete me” or “two minds, one heart”?  I’m here to tell you, ladies, that’s BULLSHIT! 

We are not here to complete another person or to fill their missing piece. A partner, lover, boyfriend, girlfriend should be seen before us as a gift that we are to compliment. You don’t complete the present, you make it better. It’s like the cherry on top of a sundae, the sundae is amazing without the cherry. It has all that yummy fudge and whipped cream. It’s clearly a deliciously edible treat all on its very own, and just when you think it can’t get any better, BOOM! You throw that cherry on top! Perfect. Our significant others should be that cherry!

Now, back to my breakup. I was a tasty sundae all on my own before my boyfriend stepped into the picture. I had just the right amount of fudge to ice cream ratio and for the first time in a long time, I was emotionally healthy all by myself. When he came along, I looked at Him as my cherry on top.  He didn’t make me a better person; he made me want to be a better person. As certain problems began to arise in our relationship I started to lose that feeling. I started panicking thinking “what am I going to do if he dumps me? I’m going to be that pathetic, almost 30 year old, single girl!” In my scared, anxious state, I told myself, “I will do whatever it takes to keep Him and to show Him how much he means to me.”! I no longer looked like a delicious ice cream treat; I started to look like a melty, sticky mess on the floor.

But I saw it, I was able, even if for the briefest of seconds,  to step back and see myself – sad and melting on my living room floor, promising this Man that I would be whatever he wanted me to be, if he’d just try to make this work. I didn’t recognize myself. This wasn’t the woman I had been striving to be. This was a fear stricken girl, afraid of being alone. A clear thought started to come to me again, and again, “this is not who you are”. And indeed, that was not who I was. I was a strong healthy woman before this Man came along and I would be a strong healthy woman without him.  He does not make me who I am. He fell in love with me for the woman I was, not the woman he wanted me to be... And that was that. 

It took a bit, and I’m still finding sticky spots on my carpet, but I cleaned up that melted mess I left on the floor. Then I took out my ice cream scoop and my favorite pint of Ben and Jerry’s. I loaded up a bowl with Cherry Garcia and topped it with an obscene amount of hot fudge. The only thing that could make this any better, would be that cherry, but I’m not about to turn down a bowl of ice cream without one ;)

Grow Up!

It’s starting to get to me, the angst ridden facebook posts, the bad mouthing behind one anothers backs, the desire to create unnecessary drama. I know most of you reading this are in your mid to late twenties if not older, so I feel that this is an appropriate audience to voice this issue. Where do we draw the line on adolescent behavior and start expecting more from women? 

I’m 29 now and it shocks me on a daily basis how immature women my age act and I think social media has a great deal to do with this situation. Facebook and Twitter are now giant billboards on which we can write how we’ve been wronged, post snarky remarks about individuals and add nasty comments to other people’s words. Perhaps it’s been that these adolescent women have not had a channel in which to display their immaturity. Well, it’s here, and it’s ridiculous! 

For ages women have been looked down upon as the inferior sex. It seems we have constantly had to prove ourselves. Incredibly, it was less than 100 years ago that women weren’t allowed to vote. Since then, we’ve fought to vote, we’ve taken over corporations; we’ve become working mothers and independent home owners. We’ve done all this to prove that we are strong, smart, self-sufficient people. Why are we personally sabotaging this image? Or is that what it really is, just an image? Perhaps these women are not strong and independent. Perhaps they are just simple, catty and materialistic. 

Personally, I don’t care if you boyfriend didn’t get you a ring for Christmas; I don’t care about how many tequila shots you had last night, I don’t care about the tormented song lyrics that “just get you”.  Social media is not your therapist. You cannot gain real life perspective by putting up short paragraphs about your drama filled life on a website.  Drama is created and festers if not dealt with, and you can’t deal with your problems on a webpage. 

Women need to slow down their hectic lives and to learn how to reconnect with actual individuals, face to face. We need to learn how to stand up for ourselves and stop hiding behind the keyboard, for when you tackle something head on, you see results. Beat around the bush and hype it up on your facebook page and you’re only going to create a bigger mess. 

So, angsty-drama filled-immature women, please wake up. It’s time to put away your prom dress and pull up your big girl pants. This is the real world, where real people exist. Try living in it. I guarantee you’ll get more satisfactory results than the responses to that “cryptic” facebook status you think no one will understand.

Balance

This year the Universe scooped up two huge handfuls of mud and buried me in it. 

I was stunned! I didn’t have any warning.  First I’m shocked and scared. How do I get out of this? I can’t breathe with this gunk on top of me. Then I panic, I need to get out of here, I need to dig my way out of this as fast as I can and take a shower and pretend this never happened. And all this time Universe is sitting back watching me, giggling at my futile attempts to free myself of this mess. 

Now I’m getting pissed, “What the hell, Universe?! I haven’t done anything to deserve this! I’m a good person, I make good decisions! This isn’t fair!”  Then Universe says, in his most serious of voices, “but Jacqueline, haven’t you figured it out by now? I’m not fair?”

That’s when I had one of those “ah-ha” moments that all the celebrities talk about. My “ah-ha” didn’t come while I was feeding starving children in Africa, it didn’t come while I was on a mission trip to Haiti. It came to me on an ordinary night in November, 7 months after my dad’s untimely death. I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, conversing with Universe. I kept asking him ‘why’.  

***Note: this part of my writing details a tiny pity party, but it doesn’t last long, so keep reading.**  

Why have I had to struggle my entire life? I’ve put up with terrible asthma and eczema since birth. I’ve had virtually no relief from discomfort since then. I’ve been diagnosed with MS, my husband divorced me because of it. I live paycheck to paycheck in order to pay an exorbitant amount of money on prescriptions every month. I’m continuously paying off medical bills, and now, on top of all this you have taken my dad away from me?! Can’t I catch a break? I thought maybe if I pleaded my case, Universe would take heart and reveal to me an answer. Instead Universe said “because this is the way it is meant to be”.  And that was that. 

I closed my eyes. I took that answer and rolled it around in my brain. I made its hard edges soft with pondering. It became malleable and I held it in my hands.  What I saw there was peace. This was the first time I had truly felt serene about where I was in my life and the circumstances surrounding it. I clung that moment like a warm embrace. I could see my concerns and sadness whirling around me.  I also saw happiness and contentment. These feelings and experiences make me whole. I pictured myself as earth, this little ball of mass, which without lightness and darkness, without water and air, would cease to prosper. 

And so is my being. Without trials and tribulation without success and prosperity, one’s life cannot be complete. The Universe showed me in order to appreciate the goodness in my life I had to see bad times as well. And in order to experience those bad times, I had to see goodness.  I started to understand the necessity of life balance. I must work as hard as I play. I must appreciate the love in my life as well as the dislike. I have to embrace chaos and balance it with serenity. 

To some this might seem like a hippy dippy sort of approach to life, but this isn’t about being one with earth and nature. It isn’t about meditating or chanting or even praying. This is about appreciating life in its entirety. 

 I’m welcoming 2012. I’m looking forward to what it holds for me, both good and bad. I’m excited to watch myself become the person I am meant to be.  

Happy New Year!

So there's this guy....

 So, this guy walks into a bar - no seriously, he did and he was way cute! If you're waiting for a punchline, it's not gonna happen, I just wanted a clever way to hook you all into reading this. Pretty good, huh? Initially I wasn't going to do this because I feel like every time I write about something extra awesome that is happening in my life, I somehow end up jinxing it, and I REALLY don't want to jinx this. I also feel, however that everything happens for a certain reason therefore there must be a reason I'm writing this. Luck be damned! So back to that guy in the bar...

I had met Him while doing my second round of online dating. Online dating, man! Can we talk about that for a second? It's intense - not intense in the oh-my-god-I-hope-I-find-THE-one kinda way. More like, oh-my-god-I-hope-no-weirdo-freak-psycho-killers-are-creeping-on-my-profile kinda way. I could go on and on about the "lovely" men I've had the pleasure of meeting online, but I'll digress. Maybe in a different blog.

So He emails me. Good start. All His spelling and grammar are correct. It was a cute short little email. Good. Checked out the profile picture of Him...with a GIRL? No explanation of said girl in picture, clearly no attempt was made to cut her out of the picture. I'd like to assume sister, but I go with  ex-girlfriend. Check stats. No kids. Good. Older. Good. Doesn't smoke, college degree, job. Good, good, good. Hmm, things are lookin' like a go. I email back, and so starts a friendly little week long conversation which ends with an invitation to get together. Duh, I said "yes".

So this is the part where He walks into the bar. I'll set the tone for you. I was so nervous to meet Him, I was using yoga breathing techniques on the drive over, hoping to quell my urge to puke. It was POURING out. I did have cute hair at one point, but I'm pretty sure by the time I ran from the parking lot to the bar, I looked like a wet rat. Eh, maybe he won't notice, I am showing a little cleav after all.

He hasn't arrived yet. I fear our date might already be going downhill when I discover the bar is full. Like, U-Haul full of linebackers, kind of full. He texts me "just walking in". Suddenly, there is a subconscious mantra going through my head: "PLEASEBECUTE, PLEASEBECUTE, PLEASEBECUTE". He walks in, CUTE!!! Yes! Score one for the night! Oh! And He's tall! Score two!! Alright, things are looking up! We do the awkward handshake and then stare at each other for a second while we are trying to answer the hostess's question whether we'd like to put our names down for a table or not. I'm thinking "No! I didn't sign up for dinner! Too much pressure, what if you're super weird. What if you like Star Trek marathons and still do keg stands?? Just drinks". Apparently He has different ideas, our names are down. We try to shimmy our way through the bar to wait. Oh! What's that?! Two ladies leaving happy hour a little late, open spots! Score three for the night.

So we're seated. Side by side we stare at the drink menu. I'm wondering what to order that is strong enough to chill me out, but not strong enough to make me look like an alcoholic. Jameson it is. He orders wine. Hmmm, wine? I decide I'm ok with that. Drinks are ordered, time to start the small talk. Wait, this isn't small talk. What is happening? Is He actually having a normal conversation with me? Oh, that girl in your picture was just a friend? What, you like to cook? You've traveled around the world? Ahh! I don't know what to do! I had memorized the weekend forecast just in case we needed a topic! I'm jumping up and down inside! Yes!! He's smart! He looks at me when He talks. Something is happening here...

Another Jameson, now He has me laughing. Man, He's got a great smile. I wonder if he's going to kiss me tonight? Another glass of wine (for him). Bathroom break. I check my watch. Holy hell! It's 11pm. We've been talking and drinking for 5 hours! There is definitely something happening here. Back at the bar, we are people watching. Possibly one of my favorite pastimes.  Turns out, he does too! We make up stories for the feisty old trollop across the bar, hitting on the Jersey Shore cast member wanna be. And one for the two gentleman across from us wearing  wolf shirts probably purchased at a goodwill. Yes. I am liking this tall cute boy.

Now it's nearly midnight, on a Tuesday. We both have to work in the morning. So, we tab out. He pays - this is new! He walks me to my car. Hug. Mmmm, good hug. The kind that makes you smile while you're still embracing. Ahh! He's so tall, I love it! Done with the hug. Kiss? Nope, but I'm ok with it. I'm liking this guy. I get into my jeep and start towards home. Yep, there is definitely, most certainly something happening.