Fickle

Venting can be part of the healing process. Obviously, I need a little healing. I'll warn you now, this is a vent-exclusive post and something that's been long put-off. But it needs to be done. And to be specific, it is toward a certain group of people that you will probably have figured out by the time I'm done.

I don't know how you could have done it: stood by and smiled that dashing smile, struck that deadly pose, while I pined for you, always on the sidelines. I couldn't help it; seeing you regularly the way I did, having to look at your face--those eyes, that grin. Any red-blooded female would feel the same and it's apparent you knew it as well as I did.

You may have played with my emotions without ever speaking a word to me, or you could have manipulated me the whole time we knew each other. I had all these perfect scenarios in my head: the moment you first noticed me, how you would fall for me, how perfectly irresistible I would be to you. In some cases, I would do the same as you had done to me, shun you while you tripped over yourself to get one glimpse of me or have one conversation with me.

And while I thought about you constantly, dreamed of maybe someday being together, you had your gaggle of unnaturally pretty girls to choose from, and so you did. The whole time, I would play the misfit and you, the playboy. We played our parts so very well. I knew what you didn't, but what you did, everyone knew. Whether you were clueless about my affection, I could not say. But you still took the stage and your bow as well, every time I saw you.

You were out of my league and I knew it. Girls I had known for years and who'd grown into these shapely gazelles became your first choice while I sat by, feeling the lowest of low. That's why I had to imagine, had to con myself into thinking I had a chance.

In the end, I would always be burned, when you would leave to wherever the next place was. The rejection, the knowledge that you never would have picked me in a million years, that you only were with the girls that had the body I didn't, that I was too safe or never could have fun, that you never wanted to know me because you weren't introduced to a pretty face, that I would always be the awkward girl in the background--that would ruin me. 

And I would cry, wondering what was wrong with me, why I couldn't ever get noticed, ever be good enough for your type.

Now I look back, to those occurrences that feel so long ago, almost in another lifetime. I realize that all that pain was only caused by a freshly pubescent mind playing tricks on me. Most of those guys have now grown into people I would not want to know.

Several have gotten their girlfriends pregnant (at an age which very few females are qualified to be mothers) and are now forced into a fatherhood they may not have wanted. All because they decided to act against wisdom.

One developed mental problems.

One raped his then-girlfriend.

One is a pot-head and has been in jail at least once.

Some, moved away and I couldn't tell you where they are now. But after a random run-in with one or two of them, I doubt it is anywhere I would want to be.

A few turned out to be genuinely nice guys. Just very unmotivated to grow up and above all, not for me.

And after all of that turmoil, I am the one who got the beautiful romance and am now married to a man who respects, admires, honors, values, and loves me more than I deserve. Most of those simple souls I longed for were nothing but pretty pictures with no substance underneath. A lot of them are in situations I wouldn't wish on anyone. If I had to do it all again, I would. The love I have now is worth so much more than those fickle surface desires.

(Yes, I had more than a few crushes when I was younger. Most only lasted a few months [which was usually how long I would have regular interactions with them].  Only two were ever really acted upon and taught me lessons I will never forget.)

I suppose it shows that God is so much better at picking your mate than you are. I probably would have been in a terrible mess if I had done my own choosing.

Separation of Life and Internets

Dear readers who read (redundant, because that means you, assuming you are reading this right now; I know, it's a silly and trivial thing):

I've had a lot of brain things going on inside my head and I'm rearranging some mental furniture. In layman's terms, you could say I'm changing.

Changing what, well...if I had any clue, I would play nice and enlighten us both at the same time.

I just know it's change because it hurts. And it sucks. And I am sensitive and angry and constantly roiling with conflicted emotions about myself and about other people. I really don't know what to think at the moment; I only hope things will improve.

I'm trying to stay quieter, I guess you could say, in terms of my writing. I've used my blogs to write out frustrations in the past and it's done some unsightly things--to me and to others. Part of this whole change fight (and only a part) is learning to keep my mouth shut, even when my anger makes me want to run rampant through the interwebs and destroy things.

But behind every computer screen (as I promise is the case here) is a human being. And most of us have pretty relatable feelings. I'm surprised I hadn't learned my lesson, what with my own experience of being trashed on the blog of she-who-shall-not-be-named. I'd rather my anger be channeled out another way than damage relationships and people.

I'm trying to stay quieter in general, really. My fingers tend to be little chatterboxes when they get near a keyboard and it's hard to shut them up. Never mind that my brain goes a hundred miles an hour. I'm way too attuned to this social media thing, announcing every little thing I'm feeling and hoping every single person notices. We really shouldn't give a rip. You might have a heart attack thinking about how people separated their social lives from their personal lives before the Internet.

I think that's what I need to go back to though, unless I have something incredibly mind-blowing to share. Then, I won't hesitate. But the little stuff, eh...you could probably live a full, happy life without knowing. My word vomit is pretty much for my sake anyway, not that I need the ego boost.

So I'll be here and there, but most likely not posting as often. Some mental things need to be straightened out, as well as emotional and relational. I'll see you when I see you.

You Have What I Want And I Have What You Want

Humans are a funny thing.

I've noticed a lot of us create these fantasies, these perfect worlds to daydream about while trying to fall asleep, in our spare time, or what-have-you.

You know what your perfect job would look like, your perfect spouse, your perfect kids, your perfect weight, your perfect social groups, etc.

You pine and sigh, watching the people who have one or two of those things, envying them, wishing you could trade places.

And yet...they themselves aren't happy. What I find funny is that we are surprised to discover those we are jealous of aren't happy...even when we have things other people want and aren't happy ourselves.

For example, I submit a generic conversation between two women (I'm sure everyone has heard a version of this):

Female 1: "Ugh, if I could just lose those ten pounds, I would finally be happy."

Female 2: "Are you serious? I would pay money to look like you!"

Ad infinitum, inserting whatever gender or situation you please.

You may have the body you've always wanted, but your job might not be what you dreamed of. You might have a super-hot spouse, but you can't feel confident with them because you aren't at that perfect weight. You might have great kids, but you can't stand how your social life has panned out.

Most of us have something that someone else wants. We need to face the fact that our lives might not ever reach that perfect place, but if we have the power to change something, we ought to give it our best effort. We should rejoice in those good things we are blessed with and not waste our energy on envy.

That energy could be devoted to bringing an area of your life to a place you want it to be.