What I Want to be When I Grow up

It's the ultimate question, isn't it? What do I want to be when I grow up? As I've been searching for jobs, I find myself asking it a lot. It's funny, some days I am discouraged about not being able to pinpoint that exact answer, yet other days I feel as if the entirety of the job market is mine to pursue. Now, we all know that this is not close to being true. There's that whole pesky need for experience thing, but today I reveled in the fact that there are many doors open to me.
For instance, I have come to realize that I shouldn't take for granted the opportunity that has been given to me at the library. Although I have only been given a set couple of Fridays a month to work, I have been there far more often for training and filling in when people call out. I have been reminded that people are not handed jobs lightly and that the director must have seen potential or taken a certain interest in my talents to consider giving me the hours she had available. It is a definite step forward despite the lack of 40 hours a week.
Additionally, I have gotten interviews in all different types of fields. I had two interviews for an admissions counselor position; a position that I was devastated to not be given due to lack of experience. I was in a group interview last night for a paralegal position, making the initial cut and hoping to make the next one. I have two interviews next week in the medical profession- billing and reception. Again, not the glamorous writer/publisher/editor/creative lifestyle I had imagined, but these are all positive things. My neighbor continues to encourage me to sign up to substitute teach for our school district as the school system is always in need of good paraprofessionals. And I have a friend who has sent me an application to a store where he works and has been networking on my behalf.
I am lucky. I really am. I have a lot of people who care about me and a lot of people who continue to show me that I am worth it. On the rainy days when I have trouble getting out of my robe or even taking a shower, I sink into this depressive state of self-loathing. I see my lack of credentials and look at the LinkedIn pages of my friends who seem to be going places in life. It's a hard place to come back from when you haven't been offered that dream job or you haven't had an interview in two weeks. But it all comes full circle. I've been picking up shifts at the library the last couple of weeks and now have three interviews scheduled within the time span of a week after having nothing for the last few. And maybe none of these interviews will work out; however, I am hopeful that it only means the right opportunity is still out there waiting to be found.
I am glad that I woke up with the motivation to write this morning, the motivation to be positive, the motivation to keep trying. Truth is, I've been telling myself that I need to blog for the last week and continue to move that onto the next day's to-do list. In talking with others I have learned a few things about life and the workforce in general. I will share them here:
          1) People aren't always as happy as they may seem in their current position, despite what   
          Facebook or LinkedIn may lead you to believe.
          2) What is right for another isn't necessarily the right fit for you.
          3) We are all ultimately just trying to figure it all out.
I've had the "what do you want to be when you grow up" conversation with several people, many of whom are older than myself. And do you know what I have found? Not that many people know. Even those who have been set on a career path for over a decade still say that they're not sure that's where they want to end up. And that's what life is- it's tricky, it can be messy, it is most certainly complicated, but it's ever-changing and ever-evolving. Maybe we're not meant to figure it out in this life. Maybe we're meant to keep searching so as not to become stagnant. Maybe we make changes when we have to and maybe, just maybe, it all works out in the end.

Give me a Sign

I am paralyzed with anxiety and plagued with doubts this morning. I have been tossing and turning all night in the feverish haze that comes with guilt and too much thinking. Why did I think I could do this? There have been no signs affirming the choices that I have made. Here it is, December 1st before 6 am, and I'm staring at the screen with no prospects and no money. I grew up with people telling me I could do whatever it was that I wanted to do. No one tells you about the experience you need or specific educational background. No one is willing to give you a chance based on merit or character.
Okay, so again, I'm overgeneralizing, and while I'm sitting here typing the caffeine is still brewing so all these thoughts may only be semi-coherent as well as depressing. I hate being unemployed. I hate feeling like I have no purpose. So I guess technically I am employed part-time, but I know I won't feel like a productive member of society until I find a full-time job. I'm just failing to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And I suppose I couldn't just assume that something would fall into my lap right away. I guess getting the job that I thought I was going to get last month, only being a month unemployed, would have been too easy. But why? Why can't life be easy?
I am sick of having to work so hard to prove my worth. I am sick of being in debt. I am sick of not being able to afford to have a family or go back to school. These problems will probably always plague me unless I win the lottery, and to win I would have to play. But this is my rant this morning.
I have the gnawing feeling in my chest that I won't be able to move forward, that I shot myself in the foot, that giving up my decent paying job was a full-on, ginormous mistake, that I should not have acted so rashly on emotions. I know that everything happens for a reason. I know that in the past when I have been driven to leave a job, it was well-deserved and everything ended up falling into place. But it's really hard to have faith when I feel as if I am in this black hole void of any signs as to which direction to go. I feel like I'm Alice but I'm lost in Wonderland and the White Rabbit hasn't been around to lead me on the right path. The Cheshire Cat is just gleaming at me with his toothy smile confirming my fears of having no clue. I need a sign. I need a feeling. I just need something.

Lost

I am feeling extremely lost lately. I feel as if I have no direction, no sense of purpose. I question the sanity of my choices. Ever since I received a denial from the job I really wanted, I feel as if there are not quite as many positions available. I feel like my window is closing and the prospects are receding at a rapidly disconcerting rate. Why did I believe that is was a good decision to quit my job? My subconscious is chiming in with "Because you were miserable." Fair point, but at least I was paying off my debt while in misery. I realize I have done a complete 180 in my search for the good and positivity within the world and the work environment, but this is where I am right now. I'm still in my lowest spot, in my darkest days. On days I don't have to get up, I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling trying to decipher the dreams of the night before- dreams that are random and include people with whom I no longer associate.
Speaking of, I saw my ex the other day in church. It had been a few years and I spent the entire mass trying to control my rapid heartbeat. He was with his wife and two children, and all I could think of was the time we spent together in college. All the nights where I was the one on whom he focused his attention. Now, I don't want to be with him, I never saw it working out in the long run. My husband is an amazing man, extremely considerate even in dealings and run-ins with ex-boyfriends. But there's always that little part of you that crumbles again when an ex is around, isn't there? There's always the memories that may seem a lifetime past, but are buried deep down all the same. All it takes is the glimpse of his/her face and it's all over. Suddenly, that grave in your heart seems very shallow.
We chatted briefly after mass and of course he will be in the play that we are seeing this week at church. So I'll be gearing up for another encounter. I'm not sure why this all struck me to the core, not sure why it had me wondering if he would text me, why it had me crying over my breakfast. My husband thinks it is because he has everything that I want, namely a family. I guess we always think the people who have wronged us are going to get bitten by the deadly snake we call karma, but life doesn't always work that way. Which made me wonder, why am I seeing him now? Is this some ultimate lesson in forgiveness, humility, faith? I prayed on it and received no answers. I haven't been receiving any answers lately. I've been alone, depressed, sitting in a dark home alone waiting to turn on the lights.
So I suppose there is no underlying message of positivity in this post. Although many quotes come to mind about there being light in the dark and only coming to where we need to be as a result of hard times. I will leave you with one from one of my favorite writers. “Maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light.” ~Madeleine L'Engle

Rock Bottom

ROCK BOTTOM. Last week I hit it- rock bottom. It was the combination of preparation for my sister's wedding, the subsequent stomach bug I caught that laid me out for a week after the wedding, and the infamous call from a hoped for employer-to-be telling me that unfortunately I did not get the job. This whirlwind of events sent me spiraling into a week filled only with Gilmore Girls and sorrow. And no, I do not assimilate the two together usually.
It is hard continuing on the path when you keep having obstacles thrown in your face. I really thought I would get this job for which I had been interviewing. I had had two interviews (always a good sign) and I seemed to really click with the people I had met. The office was very positive and the salary was the same as my old job. Everything seemed perfect. So perfect that my husband and I put all our eggs in one basket and went around blindly hopeful for a week until I got the dreaded call while I was in the throws of sickness on my couch.
So pick myself up I shall and send myself back onto more cover letter writing and resume polishing. I keep praying for signs, for guidance, for some kind of intuition that I am on the right path. I quit my job for a reason. I was miserable, the atmosphere was less than stellar, I was yelled at on a daily basis by our customers. All good reasons. I felt that at 28 years old, I was sitting in an office waiting for my life to start and the only person who could change that was me. So when I was confronted with these facts, I tendered my resignation. Life is too short to be miserable. I keep reminding myself that I've only been out of work technically for a little over a month, which in the grand scheme of things is not long. I need to keep trying and keep pushing myself.
The problem is I let myself get into these moods and allow the negativity to sink its teeth into me. I let the what ifs start to cloud my judgement, and I start telling myself I'm not good enough. I know that I need to spin my experiences to the positive side. I've had multiple interviews, sent out dozens of applications, and have secured a part time position at the local library. People are willing to talk with me, meet with me, even give me second interviews. This all tells me that I can do it, I am worth it, I just need to find someone willing to take a chance on me. I need to find someone willing to see my potential and help me find my new start.
I want so much from this life. I want to be better with my writing. My lofty ambition is to write a novel. I want to find a career not just a job. I want to help people. I want to raise a family. All these things sound simple but they're not. They take dedication, they take hard work and they take sacrifice. And none of these can be done while lying on the couch. So I have no choice but to pick myself back up, dust myself off, and try, try, try again.

AM Musings

What are we doing here? What does it all mean? I find myself at the kitchen table this morning asking myself these questions. I've been staring at my bedroom ceiling since 5 AM trying to find meaning in the last month. The ramifications of my decision to quit my job have come down on me quite hard lately. In a moment of weakness/as a favor to my husband, I even asked my boss if I could have my old job back part time, but she has decided not to hire anyone now. As I sobbed into my pillow, I wondered why I thought it was such a good idea to give up my financial stability. Then I remembered one word: happiness.
Did I think I could be happy? Did I really think I could find this elusive concept in a new job? Yes, I did and deep down I know that I still do. The real world seems to be coming at me fast, crushing me up into this ball of unemployed misery. I know this is when I have to fight.
So, real talk: I have secured a part time job, as in only a few days a months, at my local library. Going down this track has led me to the conclusion that I most likely have to go back to school for my master's degree if I want to make a career in library science and/or education. I have been on several interviews in the past month, many in the industry from whence I came; however, an interview is an interview, right? I have an interview at a university on Monday for a part time position in which I would be making decent money were I to get the job.
These are all positives, right? The universe is still pummeling me with signs. For instance, yesterday I went outside for a walk, which my body has been yelling at me to do all week, and I ran into my neighbor at the exact same time. She knew I was usually at work at that time, so she asked how I was. I explained that I had quit my job. We got on the topic of employment and she is a substitute teacher at the school in town. It was something I had thought about looking into myself. Universe, screaming!
I know I need to continue to trust the process and have faith in myself, but in a world where money talks and student loans are an eternal ball and chain, it can be easy to lose focus.

"When I was Younger, You Told me I Should Get my Shit Together..."

"When I was younger / You told me I should get my shit together / You said life is a painting / But all your colors always bleed together..."

The new One Republic song "Dream" has me thinking about all my life choices and my current state of unemployment. Now, while I am still getting paid from my old job through tomorrow, I have hit my semi-depressive state where I think about the move I made and the ramifications of such a decision. While listening to this song, I can't help but think that this is me "getting my shit together." But the song is also about people being able to dream and follow those things which make them the happiest. As I sat through interviews at different insurance offices last week for practice, I found myself only looking forward to the interview I had with a local library. As I answered the standard "where do you see yourself in five years" type questions at the insurance agencies, I was mapping out the things I would say regarding my passion for education and literacy in my head. My vigor and enthusiasm for that one interview told me all I need to know. My dream lies in the world of literature and/or education, it always has. Finally taking this step toward a completely new goal is simultaneously terrifying and invigorating. I recognize that this is the first step toward actual change. I can't give up on myself now or ever despite not having the perfect ending in sight.

"I found some new innovations / Might just be my imagination / People can dream."

Back Before Too Long

I feel as if I've neglected this blog, or rather I should write that I have neglected myself. I started this blog because I wanted to make a change; I wanted to make a difference. I am sad to say that the ways of the world have molded me back into the 9-5 daily grind girl, and I recently recognized that this was slowly eating away at me. I have known for a while that the corporate world is not for me. It does not provide the flexibility nor the creativity that I need to survive. Well, I suppose I shouldn't say survive, the paycheck has me doing just fine; I should say thrive.
Recently, some events happened at my current place of employment that forced me to reflect on my life and what I wanted. I haven't really had time to do this in a while. I have been saying constantly that I don't want to be in the insurance and financial world; however, the bills keep coming and the student loans never seem to go down, so I never invested enough time in myself, in my needs, in my wants. Well, last week I did just that. After meeting with my boss, I went home for the afternoon. After an embarrassing amount of crying and soul searching, I knew that I could not continue on the path I was traveling. So I went into the office the next day and gave my notice, much to the simultaneous chagrin and support of my husband. Now because of the bills and the loans that will continue to come, it wasn't the overwhelming sense of freedom that I had when I moved across three states with no job four years ago. I have been sick about my decision for the past week, but I know in my heart that it was the right decision for me.
Since I am an emotional person, I look to others for advice. I have received both tough love and encouragement. For those who do not know me, my actions may have seemed selfish and ill-conceived, thoughtless and impulsive; however, if I look back on the last few years, I know that they were anything but impulsive. My best friend said she wished she had kept a calendar of the amount of times I had called or texted her in misery over a client verbally abusing me over the phone or about the negative atmosphere clouding our small office. I have another friend who agreed and that he'd be happy to provide a similar calendar. The overarching response that I have received from people is a reaction similar to "Wow, good for you. You've been unhappy for a while."
That thought struck a chord with me- unhappy for a while? Have I been? I know that I haven't been at my best, that I haven't felt creative, that I have felt unsatisfied and unfulfilled, but when I have friends and family commenting on my state of being, it made me sit and think. As I drove into work last week, I thought of the void my mind had become. The mind-numbing journeys back and forth to the office as I mentally steeled myself for what may come on the drive in and tried to forget what happened on the drive home. That is no way to live, I'm here to tell you that. Life is too short to not chase what we believe to be the source of our own happiness. And for some it is the corporate life, it is money, it is the job. I'm not discounting that. But for me, it's not. I don't think it ever has been; unfortunately, it just takes a drastic breakthrough every few years to wake me up to this fact.
So here I am, unemployed once more. Well, technically not unemployed just yet... My boss is paying me through my notice; however, the nature of my job makes it so that it made no sense for me to stay in the office talking to new clients if I am to be gone within two weeks' time. While I grapple with the word "unemployed," I also look at it as an opportunity. I have two interviews today- granted, both are in the field I just came from; however, I choose to see these interviews as stepping stones. I'm getting myself back into the mindset of communicating my talent and worth, something I have discounted for a long time. I have another interview tomorrow in a new field, one in which I am very interested. One which will enrich my creative and literary side. I almost don't want to type those words because I am superstitiously anxious about this opportunity. I continue to pray and hope that the decision I made was the right one. I took this step for a reason. I was meant to be here for a reason. I'm here to tell you that you can't give that up. You can never stop searching for the thing or person or job that will make you heart happy. Or else, what is the point? What are we doing here if not to search for the greater good?

Questions to Which God has no Answers

I sit here tonight with my glass of wine and my thoughts which are overwhelming my brain. All I can think of is loss. With each new tragedy in the news, it comes closer to hitting home. A recent tragedy has sparked the questions in my mind. I find myself close to this one as I know someone who is affected. It seems cliche, but the questions won't stop- Why? To what end? What is the reason? Where is the motivation? Why is violence ever an answer? Just. Why?
Tragedy and loss make it difficult to believe. To believe in a higher power, to believe in humanity, to believe that life is good. Innocence is gone in the snap of a finger, in the shot of a firearm, in the slice of a knife, in the threat behind a word. It can be hard to find one's way back, to find the light, to find life. How do we continue on? How do we restart when tragedy hits so hard? 
I don't lose faith often, but now is one of those rare times that I have. When I see human life cut short, someone who has years to live, someone who has goals to accomplish, I can't figure it out. Why would God or a higher power or whatever you believe in condone this? Where is the greater good? Because I can't find it. I just can't. 
I sit here listening to Sara Bareilles' track "Islands." She sings, "When will you realize / You must become an island." That is exactly how I feel. Like an island. You have to retreat into yourself to reflect on how you feel. And right now I feel confusion, I feel pain, I feel nothing. Tell me why tragedy exists. Please someone tell me the reason. Because I haven't been able to name one yet. 
I realize this is far from the posts I usually write, far from inspirational; however, I believe that we are multidimensional. It's not all roses and buttercups, sometimes emotions are raw. Pain is very real, and I believe it is important to write, especially during times of disbelief. Life is messy, life is dirty, it's painful. These are the times in which we learn the most about ourselves. These are the moments that come around to help define us, to remind us of who we are, to remind us of why we're here, to remind of us of what we need to accomplish, to remind us that we are human.

Reminders of Love

I have been having one of my famous nostalgia-filled Saturdays in which I spent my morning cleaning, listening to The Fray, combing through old pictures from college, thinking about friendships that have come and gone. I am having a hard time coping with the present when the past seems so perfect. In reality, I know it never was. There were fights, break-ups, hurt feelings, breakdowns, moments I've buried, moments I couldn't bury if I tried. Once again, I come full circle in my preaching that everything happens for a reason. 
I ask that you bear with me today as my thoughts are scattered, and I tend to jump from one to the other. I had a dream last night that scared me beyond belief. I lost a loved one and the dream was so real that I woke up stressed with an imminent migraine. The memory of that dream has followed me around the apartment, looming with its massively frightening face over the dishes I wash, over the clothes I fold, over the floor I sweep. I can't shake the nagging feeling that something bad is going to happen and I know it's silly, but I can't help it. I've always placed weight in my dreams because I know that my extremely emotional subconscious is relaying messages to me constantly, and I feel it is my duty to listen. 
Despite the severity of my dream, it has been the catalyst for contact with those for whom I care a lot. I find myself sending text message to friends from college, calling loved ones, writing about them. It is never too late to reconnect with people, never too late to remind someone just how much you love him or her. I think we often take for granted that people know we are there for them. Sometimes it takes a single message or a quick phone call to remind another person that we care, that we are still there, that we have not forgotten. I have to remind myself of this as I get wrapped up in work and my own life. How much do I appreciate it when a friend I haven't heard from in months posts on my Facebook wall? How do I feel when a friend sends me a text just because? I love to receive, and I need to remind myself to give as well. 
So take the time to let your loved ones know of your love. It shouldn't have to take a scary reminder, but sometimes it does. I am reminded of the "How I Met Your Mother" episode when Marshall loses his father. The gang spends the episode thinking of the last words they have said to their loved ones. Make your words count because they are appreciated often more than you know.

Reality Check

Recently, I moved into a bigger apartment. I think my parents were more excited about this fact than either Dana or I because it means that they get to send me home with copious amounts of stuff every time I visit them. My boxes and bins stuffed to the brim with paperwork, college books, grade school projects and baby books all suffered suffocation in the backseat and trunk of my four door sedan as I trekked the three hours back to my apartment. I dreaded going through the boxes and organizing. I knew that I would most likely be storing it in my apartment and that it would sit just as it had for the past ten years. 
I finally gathered up the stamina to tackle some of the boxes last weekend. I found a bin that has kept my memories since I was a baby. Each of my siblings and I have our own box dedicated to photographs, papers, projects, as well as anything and everything my parents found worth saving from our school days. I found class photos from middle school and even farther back, but I had to stop when I found one from fifth grade. I looked at all the faces and realized that I only knew where about a fourth of those kids, now grown adults, are now. 
I couldn't seem to grasp the reality that is the present. One of the boys is now married and recently had his first child. One of the girls is still in my life and has been one of my best friends since we were eleven years old. Another guy died last fall in a tragic plane crash, while another girl is getting married on my birthday next spring and I will be attending her wedding. It is unreal that the years have passed and some of the students in that picture are here while some are no longer with us. I look back and think that none of us knew who would be married by twenty-five or who would no longer be featured in photographs anymore. 
I wonder if any us are where we thought we would be now in the year 2013, a year that sounded so foreign in a millennium that didn't exist when we were in grade school. Time changes us. Life changes us. Our goals are different, our priorities become real, our lives mold into ones that we may or may not be proud of due to actions we have chosen and decisions we have made. It humbles me to think about how my life now is so far removed from how I imagined it to be when I was eleven. The real world is more vivid and alarming than I could have imagined, and I am still trying to discern daily whether that is a good thing or not.

The Pursuit of Happiness

Over the weekend, something happened that I haven't been able to shake from memory. My boyfriend, Dana, and I were sitting on the couch watching television and playing on our phones. Dana decided to "Google" me as a result of a conversation we had been having at the time. The first thing that popped up when he used my full name was a woman who was a publisher, author and editor. He showed me the page from his phone. On the page, was a list of this woman's various accomplishments next to her smiling face and all I could think was, "That should be me." 
I instantly started bawling and he felt awful for showing it to me. I assured him that I would be fine and stopped to realize just how intense my reaction was at this stranger's success. I realized in that moment that I still knew what I wanted out of life, the career I wanted to have, the merits with which I wanted to be credited, the biography in which I wanted to be featured. If I am getting this choked up over a random article on Google, then I am meant to do other things with my life. 
I think we get so wrapped up in the way things are now that we fail to recognize our future is bound to be different than our present. I remind myself that just a year ago I was working part time at the bank, trying to make ends meet, worrying about finding a full time job and writing in my journal about my hopes to be working in the office where I am now. Life moves forward whether we want it to or not, and we have to decide in which direction we'd like it to go. I could have allowed it to flat-line, staying at the bank until the full time spot inevitably opened, going through the motions for years, numbing myself to a career in which I would never be fulfilled. But I didn't. 
I allowed myself to take a step forward, accepting a new job that challenged me. I was scared when I started, even though it was what I had wanted. I wondered if I was stepping from something comfortable into a place where I'd be miserable, but I had to take the risk in order to know. Almost nine months later, I realize that it was the right decision. I may not be in this office or this career forever, but I'm in a better place now than I was in a year ago or even two years ago. 
I suppose there is a lesson to be learned from my slight meltdown- continue to follow your ambitions. Your dreams are shouting at you, flashing in front of your face, and it's your job to decide whether to ignore or embrace them. I know that I can't let go of my desire to write. It may take me a while, but every job I take, every new friend I make, every experience I have is leading me to a better place. Every decision I make contributes to the person I am and strive to be.

Getting Back Into the Groove

Well, if it has not been apparent, I have been in a bit of a writing rut lately. It isn't necessarily from lack of things to say- I have a plethora of words, ideas, and memories floating around in my head at any given time. No, I have been ignoring my inner creative child, an action that was quite frowned upon in my creativity class. I was just writing in my neglected journal about class and how I missed composing every day. Writing a journal entry or "morning pages" was a requirement, yet it never seemed like a chore or a job. The assignment motivated me to channel my inner thoughts through ink to paper, and I beyond proud of the stacks of composition books lying in my closet. There is something about one's handwriting scrawled across pages and pages of paper that is indescribably rewarding. 
However, I have let life take hold of me and ignored my inner voice. I have become so wrapped up in my job, my relationship, the relationships of others, that I have pushed the small voice in my head aside as it nags me to be heard on my daily commute. It is the moments in the car before the rush of the day that the dreams of the previous nights, the conversations I've had recently, even memories that I have buried, come creeping in to float around my consciousness. It is in that half hour commute that I give my thoughts free range along with my emotions. I let the past and the present and even my potential future collide in a thunderstorm of mixed emotions within the confines of my vehicle. My problem is I never allow them to escape that cabin. 
On the way home, I grow increasingly weary from my day and brush aside my thoughts from the morning. I swat at the memories as they beg for my attention, brushing them aside when a song from the radio sparks a thought. Instead of going home and writing, as I should do, I drive home and lock my car, securing the words inside to suffocate in the rising summer heat until the next day. It is like that every day- wash, rinse, repeat. I can't claim to want to be a novelist, a blogger, a successful writer if I ignore all the senses that scream at me daily, begging for relief through words on a page. 
As I sit in my kitchen, coffee in hand, silence surrounding me, I am giving into my creative child. It has been months since I have paid attention to this blog; my journal looks like a starving creature next to my plump notebooks of years past. There is so much changing, so much happening that I am missing, that I am failing to capture in words. I made a promise to myself that I would try to get back on track. I can not promise perfection, but I can promise to make a valiant attempt at getting back into the groove. I don't want to lose my drive, and I certainly don't want to lose focus on my writing. It is beyond imperative that I live up to the expectations I have set for myself, or else, what is the point?

Birthdays

I am up early inordinately early today after being unable to sleep well. There is something special about birthdays, something exciting about having one day all to yourself. Now I know this day belongs to countless others as well; people are not only celebrating birthdays, but anniversaries and other special occasions. However, my birthday has never ceased to thrill me. I still get excited to have a whole day where others acknowledge my existence and send well wishes. I still wake up early because I'm planning every minute of my day so it doesn't go to waste. 
When I was younger, I'd want to open all my presents right away. I couldn't wait until my birthday dinner to be able to enjoy all of the great things I had received. Now, I take pleasure in waiting until the very last minute to open my gifts. I like going through my day knowing I still have cake to which I can look forward, dinner with friends, and gifts to end the night. You have one day that is all your own, and I have learned to savor mine. 
As I think about today and my prior birthdays, I muse about how much can happen in the short span of a year. I still have the card from my grandmother on my dresser from last year; unfortunately, I won't be receiving one from her this year. Instead, I am surrounded by pictures of her and keepsakes I have been lucky enough to have. Last year, I was unemployed at this time and beginning to wonder if I would ever find a job. Now, I am in a job that I enjoy with people that are incredible, and I am lucky enough to call them my friends as well as coworkers. Last year, I was still getting used to the idea of living with my boyfriend and calling his apartment my home. This year, we have our own apartment and have been living together for over a year, in a relationship for three years. 
I am incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many good people who define my life and nurture the person I have become and continue to be. Every year my birthday reminds me how many people care, how many people change my life every day, how many people respect and love who I am. I couldn't ask for any more than that. 
So to all those who share this special day with me, I wish you a happy Friday/birthday/anniversary,etc.! I owe you all some posts and hope to be back on the writing train soon. Much love to all my readers today and every day.

Find Your Passion and Thrive

As a resolution to myself (even though I said I wouldn't be making resolutions this year), I took a pledge, along with my coworkers, to be healthier. I joined a gym at the end of January and have been taking several zumba classes a week along with walking/jogging on the treadmill. As a step out of my comfort zone, I have taken a weight lifting class as well, but it is zumba that has become my savior. I was taking zumba before I moved here, but had stopped as I knew no one in the area and was not committed to joining a gym at the time. In the past two months, I feel better than I have in the past year. 
I am taking these classes because dancing is something that makes me happy. I don't claim to be good at it, but I would say I'm decent, and I enjoy it. I also enjoy the companionship and camaraderie that goes along with it. A whole bunch of strangers are thrown into a room together with great music, and we just dance for an hour. Everyone is silly and individual personalities are encouraged to shine. 
While our classes are mostly filled with females, every once in a while we get a male who decides to take the class and the instructors literally rejoice. I've seen three different men attend a class since I have been going, but one is by far my favorite. He is an elderly gentleman, and while I do not know his name, I do know that he has a great time. While the rest of us are booty shaking to "Sexy and I Know It," I watch him swaying back and forth, light on his feet, dancing to the music in his head. At one point during Katy Perry's "California Gurls," he catches my eye as he spins around in a circle opposite from the rest of us. He grins from ear to ear, shakes his head back and forth, and continues to dance towards the front. 
Another woman I have taken quite a liking to is an elderly woman who always dances near me in the back. One Saturday morning, my coworker and I were forced to stand near the front due to the sheer number of people attending class. Afterwards, the woman comes up to me and asks, "Where were you?" I shook my head confused and she explained, "You're always in the back near me. I always follow you because you know all the steps." I had never spoken to her before that. This morning she came up to me and said, "Good, you're back where you belong," as I purposely headed for the back of the classroom near her. It is instances like that which make me smile and dance with passion despite how I may look compared to others. 
My point is not to write a thousand words as a zumba advocate, but to advise all you readers to find something about which you are passionate. For me it has begun dancing, along with writing. You have to take the time to honor that which makes you happy, those activities that make you different. Emphasize the qualities that make you unique, that make you you in spite of what you look like or how you might do compared to others. Never compare yourself to others and never doubt yourself. If it makes you happy then do it. If others say you are foolish, just let them talk. At least you know you are nurturing your creativity. At least you can say you are thriving.

Being Versus Doing

I have begun to realize that moments of clarity are both rare and fleeting. Those moments sneak up on you like a flash- time slows just long enough to comprehend that you are in a unique space at a specific time in order to have a less than concrete realization. Just as soon as you understand you are in that moment, you are sucked back into reality and forced to continue the daily grind unless you take the time to remember these moments. 
Tonight I did a "group power" class with a coworker at the gym. As I was laying on my back relaxing from an hour of weightlifting, lunges squats and all manner of exercise to which I am not accustomed, I realized I was in a moment of clarity. I stared at the stain on the ceiling of the gym and realized that it was the first time in a long time that I had just laid down, listened to music and allowed myself to stare at nothing, to think of nothing. In that moment, everything in my life shifted into focus without crowding back in to overwhelm me. It was one of those rare moments that I sometimes experience while driving, where my mind shifts to nowhere and I just am.
I don't think we ever allow ourselves to just be, we always have to do. Why? What is so great about doing when you're not experiencing the joy of being? I guess I don't get it. We live in a world where moments just fly by, where we don't stop to appreciate, where everything in our lives is taken for granted. It often takes something traumatic happening in order to snap us out of our selfishly driven world- a car accident, the death of a loved one, a near death experience. It should never have to come to that, ever. 
Now, I don't claim to be immune to the lifestyle of taking things for granted. I have gotten better at being grateful, but there are still times that I act like a spoiled brat and ask "Why me?" when I have no reason to be asking such a question. So I ask all of you to stop and just be tonight. We often do not allow ourselves that luxury, and it shouldn't be a luxury, it should be a given.

The Past- Beastly or Beautiful?

It is a sit-in-the-shower-and-think type of night. I often get in these moods where being reminiscent is the only emotion I can seem to manage. I sit in the shower and stare at the droplets of water spattering the shower lining. I can see the Picasso-like pattern of the curtain behind it, blurred through the drops of liquid. I stare and stare, thinking about things past, things that should no longer matter, guiltily sighing as I realize my skin is bright red from sitting too long under the burning shower head. 
I often wonder why I do it to myself- bringing back events I can't change, remaking someone into a person that he or she will never be. It does no good and only puts me in a foul mood for days, muddying up my dreams with images I continually seek to destroy in real life. I wander between dreaming and waking, hoping the images come to life, wishing the past did not turn out the way it had, remaking decisions that have been set in stone years ago. 
It is a sickness, a disease of over-emotion, yet I go through periods where all I can do is live in the past. In my lucid moments, I remind myself that if things had worked out the way I see them in my head, then I would not be sitting in my car staring at the dashboard daydreaming or scalding myself on the floor of my shower. Why do we do that? Why do we think we can change people or events? Why do we think we can mold our own lives and the lives of others? 
We really only have so much control, and that control only extends to our own actions. Often I think I can control the outcome of a situation, when in reality I can not because I have learned that people are unpredictable. You can not change the will of another, you have no right to take that freedom away even if it benefits you. 
Now I realize this post is semi-cryptic, but when people from my past pop up in dreams or real life, it often sets a chain of events in motion in my mind. I get stuck in this bubble where I think I could be living differently now, when in fact, everything does happen for a reason. Everything happens because people decided it would. Two people decided an outcome. Two people made choices. Both parties now live with those choices. 
The past is not a force you can change; it is not a force with which you reckon. It is certainly not a force to get caught up in as I am now. I hope that writing my thoughts down will allow me to verbally relieve myself of the tension I have created in my mind. The past can be beautiful or beastly if you allow it; it is one lover from whom you never quite recover.

Humanity- To Hurt or To Heal?

A couple posts ago, I wrote about the nonexistence of forgiveness. Being the emotional person that I am, I have been pondering that concept ever since. I ride waves of knowing exactly how to deal with my feelings; one minute I think I can forgive everyone else's sins and leave the past behind, then the next I'm cursing the day I made that first fatal mistake and wondering why I ever chose to forgive. It's a wild ride. My ex is in a show this weekend in town; he has the starring role as Prince Charming (oh the irony). My first reaction was to rashly throw out all evidence of this fact- papers went directly in the trash and I casually ignored the bulletin boards around town. Now as I sit here, fairly calm after a grueling zumba class this morning, I wonder if I should go. I still fall into the trap now and then of believing that I can alleviate my own guilt and regret by supporting those people in the past who have hurt me. So I try to play nice, to rekindle friendships long gone. I know it is a bad idea, but I do it anyway. 
The thing is, this method may work for other people- being friends with exs or trying to forgive a friend who stabbed you in the back, but it doesn't work for me. My guilt brings me back into the relationship, and then I end up more scarred than before as I'm spit out for not the first, but the second time. But it's so tempting, isn't it? I guess old habits do die hard. I lead myself to believe that I can have another friend in town, or start writing to an old friend, and it will all just resume as before. Well the truth is, it doesn't. Life doesn't work that way. I wish it did, and for those of you who can forget and forgive, well you are better people than I. 
I grew up Catholic, so forgiveness was part of the spiritual regiment with which I am well accustomed.While I attended church when I was younger, I have strayed in my older years. I still consider myself to be religious, I pray and attend mass occasionally. The chapel was always my place of calm in college, and I would often sit in the pews watching the sunlight fade through the stained glass and just think. I haven't been the greatest Catholic of late, especially with all this talk of forgiveness not existing, for which a certain old friend of mine with whom I no longer communicate would shake his head. It isn't that I don't think it exists, it's that I wonder whether I am capable of performing such a heavy task. How do you absolve someone else from his/her sins against you? How do you forgive yourself for your words and actions that have hurt others? 
I can not figure it out. I have claimed to forgive, but then I get hurt again. I ignore, but that hurts as well. Now, I didn't intend for this post to be a lecture or a depressing rant, but I really do grapple with the concept of humanity and our need to hurt and heal. What does an apology really mean? It never erases the hurt. 
Some of my friends have told me that I just need to get over it and move on. I have moved on in a sense, but I recognize that I am a highly emotional person, extremely receptive to love and thus extremely vulnerable to hurt. I am the people pleaser, not so much in that I forget myself, but I like to make sure others are happy. Therefore, I can't simply "let it go" or "get over it." It's just not that simple. Everything that has happened in my life, every person that has entered into it, has a part to play. They are pieces I don't take lightly, and as such, do not discard lightly either. 
So while this post has to end at some point, my emotions do not, my feelings attached to certain people or events do not. They are all a part of me, and while I have physically moved on, I am allowed to mourn the pieces that used to make up my life. For me, I just have to make sure that mourning does not morph into obsessing. There is a fine line between remembering the past and still living in it. 
So I write to you dear readers this morning, an emotional being, vulnerable and full of questions. Maybe some can relate, maybe some have no idea what it is that I am trying to express. I hope my musings are helpful for at least one soul out there. Remember to enjoy your life because it is important. Remember to always remember.

Be Thankful for the Present

Well, all of New England is stuck inside today under massive amounts of snow drifts. I am among the complainers who just wish that spring would arrive and we would be done with this nonsense. I shouldn't complain, the snow is almost over, and I'm not the one stuck in the driveway under eighteen layers of clothing making friends with the snow blower. But seriously, a person can only stand cabin fever for so long. In an age where we have copious amounts of entertainment sources, we still manage to find boredom quite easily. 
However, I should be thankful. I have spent the past two days at my boyfriend's father's house. Not wanting to deal with our drafty apartment and the impending threat of a power outage, we both packed up once work was cancelled and headed to his childhood home. While both of us have been grappling with boredom in a space we can't call our own, it has been nice. There is a wood-burning stove that he has kept burning since yesterday, and we made chicken noodle soup with his father's girlfriend last night. I went to the kitchen this morning to make some coffee and saw five blue jays on the porch, digging for food and fighting with each other. They were beautiful. I love looking out at the birds because they literally flock here- cardinals, blue jays, woodpeckers, chickadees. It's incredible, and I know my grandmother would have loved it. 
Grandma loved to watch the birds. She used to stand at the kitchen sink and wash dishes, watching the birds at the feeder in the yard. Her hands would be all sudsy as she pointed to a blue jay or a robin, and we'd jump up from eating our lunch to try and see. I thought of that the last time I visited my grandfather. As I was cleaning up the dishes at the sink, I looked out into the dark, imagining a time years ago when I wasn't bothered by the dishes or grown-up thoughts. She would stand at that sink for what seemed like hours, whistling and washing, as we anxiously waited for her to finish and play dominoes with us. I miss those times, I miss her songs, I miss listening to her Big Band CDs as she whistled along until my grandpa turned on the afternoon news. 
You never realize the importance of a moment until it becomes a memory. You never think that the present will become a snapshot to hold on to in the future when you've lost those that surround you. I miss her every day. The few moments I can remember stay with me, ingrained in my head until certain things bring me back to them. Today as I watched the blue jays on the porch, I sighed and wished grandma could have seen them. Maybe she can. So be thankful for the present because you never know which moments will bring you comfort in the future.

The Nonexistence of Forgiveness

Forgiveness is a funny word. Now readers, please bear with me; I am about to embark upon a rant that I have been building for years, a rant I thought I no longer needed to articulate until now. You see, someone from my past, who I have mentioned before, recently popped up in my community's paper. Now, I did realize that at some point it would happen. I moved here knowing full well that he lived in the same town, but I thought my reaction in seeing him would be different. I thought I would handle it with grace, with a small smile, with a calm and collected manner. Guess again. 
There he is smack dab in the middle of the community section surrounded by a bunch of girls. He is starring as the Prince in the play Cinderella. Isn't that sweet? I know it's petty and stupid of me, but sometimes I wish that the people who cause us the most hurt would just fall in a hole and have only bad things happen to them. Karma needs to be a bitch once in a while, agreed? Okay, now that I have gotten that out of the way, I should probably start preaching forgiveness and love, but the thing is I can't do it. I can not. I tried not to let it bother me, I really did; however, I remained in a sour mood last night and today, despite a scathing entry I wrote in my journal this morning. Then I came home after a busy day to his face in yet another weekly paper that we receive. 
So I'm sitting here wallowing with my glass of wine and can of mixed nuts. Yes, instead of counting my blessings, I'm guzzling fatty foods and feeling sorry for myself. I just don't understand how good things can continue to happen to bad people. I mean he took a lot of my best qualities away from me- my goodness, my naivety, my innocence, and I will always attribute that to him. So I thought I could be mightier-than-thou and forgive him, but it's harder than snapping my fingers and erasing four years of hurt. So how do you do it? How do you forgive? I'm asking, I'm truly at a loss. I can't help in this matter. 
Now, maybe I shouldn't be blogging in this despairing condition, but I think it's important to be real, to be raw, to be vulnerable. I'm sharing this story with the vast Internet, with strangers, with friends, with family, with people who probably know exactly of whom I am speaking. But this experience is about being honest. For me, blogging is about speaking my mind and not being afraid to take criticism from my readers. Writing is about sharing your heart, tapping into emotion, and not pulling back due to fear from those who might make judgments.
You see, the thing is we really can't understand each other's experiences and heartaches because we haven't lived them. We live with the burdens that life has allotted to each of us, and they are all unique and difficult in their own way. While we may empathize or even sympathize, we each experience our own levels of pain, some we can bear, and some we can not. But we write and talk about them in order to come to peace with them, in order to find a network who listens, in order to gain that cliche shoulder to cry on. 
Isn't that what life is all about? Honesty? So I'm being honest with you, dear reader. I was hurt in the past, I buried that hurt and now it's rearing its ugly head. I will deal with it in my own way and get over it until it comes back to haunt me again. Until I completely come to terms with it, I will write and I urge you to do whatever it is that helps you purge yourself of emotion as well, whether it is to paint, kick box, write, draw, work-out. Do the thing that helps you feel more like yourself. After a while the bad thoughts won't plague you, and you can be free, at least for a little while. If you're not free, then you always have someone to turn to... me. I can't say I understand or know what you're going through, but I can listen.

Clarity

Despite needing to stay away from the intense brightness of my computer screen, I am here writing to you dear readers. I have been struggling with a migraine on and off today, but I had an experience on my drive home from work this afternoon that I swore to myself I would record so that a) I remembered it and b) I don't become a hypocrite, preaching about doing the things our inner creative child tells us to do yet not doing them. So here goes...
I was driving home this evening and staring at the sky. The sun had set only a half hour earlier so despite being almost dark, the sky was still a pale blue where it mixed with the remaining light of the sun. I looked out my driver's side window to see the sliver of a crescent moon. At that moment, everything seemed to collide. I got goosebumps all over as the road seemed to smooth, the sky darkened, and the radio played exactly the words I needed to hear. All I heard was a voice in my head saying, "You're exactly where you need to be right now." And despite the multitude of questions I ask to myself on a daily basis concerning my job, my bills, where I want to be, who I want to be, and what I'm doing with my life, I believed that voice. 
As I continued to sit in silence, I thought of all the people whose voices make up that one thought I had. I know that there are multiple people watching over me. Now, whether you believe in heaven or a higher power is up to you. I can't say to know for sure, but I most certainly believe that there is place from which the loved ones in my life who have passed on sit watching over me. The message I heard came from my grandfather, my nana, my grandma, and possibly others, maybe even God himself. The moment lasted just that, for only a moment, and it was gone. I shed a few tears as my head became delightfully numb, most likely due both to the experience and the migraine which is still brewing.
But I felt it was important to write this down, whether or not you can relate. Have you ever had a moment when everything comes together? You don't know why, and you certainly don't have any of the answers you have been seeking, yet out of nowhere, it smacks you in the face. Every once in a while, for some reason, everything aligns just right so that we can be reminded that we're on the right track. 
I've been questioning a lot of things lately, and I need to remind myself that by letting go and not expecting things, the answers will follow. Even if I'm not sure what those answers are. Even if my moment of clarity is actually quite obscure.