Really, right now?

Apparently I only post now when I'm feeling negatively.  I promise I'll try to change that sometime in the future.  But right now I need an outlet.  And this seems to be all I've got.

It's 3 days before Christmas, and I'm in a horrible place mentally.  Yesterday I had so many mood swings I thought I might actually be going insane.  Mostly I just feel sad.  For a few reasons.  A couple I know are legitimate, and others I don't know if I'm just making worse than it really is.  Either way, the result is the same.

I'm sad because I used to love Christmas so, so much.  And I can't feel anything at all about it anymore.  Everyone is so negative this time of year.  My husband hates the holidays, and over the years it's successfully worn me down to feeling more anxiety over the thing I used to look so forward to than anything else.  I miss the way I used to feel this time of year.  I miss it more than I can say.  Things aren't the same at Christmas anymore either.  The traditional family gatherings I grew up with, which made me feel so good, have changed dramatically because of time.  My great aunts and uncle are in their 80's now, and we celebrate without two of them because of Alzheimers.  They were always like extra grandparents to me.  And so much of my childhood was spent over Jo-Jo's house because my dad was constantly playing shows with his band and my mom would go to watch.  And now instead of us all gathering at her house with her amazing cooking for the holidays, we bring her leftovers, and I spend more time wondering if this is the last year any of them will even be here, instead of letting this be a time of thanks and unity.  There is just more of a thick layer of sadness and foreboding hanging over all the things that used to bring me so much happiness this time of year.  I have nobody to share in the joy I used to get from all of this, nobody to keep me up.  

I feel sad because I just got back from a 3 and a half day visit to all my family in Kentucky, and I sort of feel like I could have been gone a week or two more, and it would be all the same.  I missed Ryan so much - so much that I spent a lot of the drive down there feeling apprehensive.  I constantly restrained myself from calling or texting too much, as not to seem like a nuisance.  And when I got back I guess I had envisioned more of a homecoming than there was.  Granted there are some things going on right now in his family as well which are casting some tough shadows over everything.  I guess I just feel like it would take a lot more than I'd hoped to be missed.  It's sort of like I don't feel as necessary as I wanted to.

I feel sad because part of me wishes I was still in Kentucky.  I realized how incredibly long it's been since I've seen that family, and it was just so satisfying.  All my cousins are so, so much older, and I'm so sad that I've missed so much.  I don't want to keep missing these large chunks of time, and it's so hard to live so far away.  These are some of my absolute favorite people in the entire world, and I've allowed for such a distance to form between us, that I regret so much.  My 5 year old cousin Aaron went through an entire bout with cancer, treatment and recovery, and I didn't actually see him during any of it. And those kids didn't even know me when I went to visit because I haven't seen them since they were babies.  But within no time at all, they were like my best buddies, and I was so moved by it.  I couldn't stop looking at Aaron and thinking that I almost never got to know him.  He's amazing, and there's something so incredibly special about him.  There's some lesson that is just begging to be acknowledged every second you spend with him, and though I could probably pick out the main points of it, there is more that I just can't quite get in my grasp, and I just want to be around him all the time.  I know that just his presence is reminding me of something really really important in life.  I sort of felt like that the entire visit.  Just that it is far too easy to allow yourself to forget the importance of cherishing and nourishing the people who mean the most to you, no matter how inconvenient it might be sometimes.  And that's where I feel sad that I have allowed inconvenience to trump importance.  Time doesn't slow down just because you don't balance things correctly.

I wish that I didn't feel this way right now.  And I know that there are some things I'm just feeling sorry for myself about.  I've been harping on the fact that I'm 7 months pregnant and working full time, tired all the time, blah blah blah, stuff that millions of pregnant women do all across the world.  I certainly don't have it any harder.  But I still feel overwhelmed sometimes, and I wish that I didn't have to ask for that to be considered sometimes.  My threshold for stress is not currently what it used to be, and I feel like I'm going to crack a lot easier than I ever would have before.  So things keep piling up on me, and I can't handle it effectively right now, and then I get judged for the way I react to it.  And I know that not everyone understands how overwhelming things are to me right now, but it's just another thing that's making me feel so out of control right now.  I just want a break.  I'm going to have a newborn baby in less than 3 months, and there will be no breaks after that.  I just want one now.  

I want to feel happy about the fact that it's Christmas, and for once I've managed to spend important time with ALL of my family.  I want to stop whining about it and actually take control of how I'm feeling.  But there's this little thing inside me, and she's already so damned demanding....   :)

Recap Crap

I can’t make up my mind whether I can commit whole-heartedly to saying that last week sucked huge sweaty balls.  It was kind of a back and forth kind of week.  Bad stuff followed by good stuff immediately followed by more bad stuff, and then good stuff again.  All in all, I’d say it ended on a good note, so that counts for something.  Trumping it all, still, is the fact that I am having a baby girl, just like my intuition kept telling me, and that can always bring a smile to my face, no matter what kind of crap is trying to make me frown.  Ada Sophia.  She’s real now.  She’s real, and she’s going to be here in 4 months.  Oh my god.

If you’re one of those people who say that the week begins on Sunday, then the week for me began shittily.  Don’t bother looking it up, it’s not a real word.  Big fight with the husband, followed by approximately 2.5 days of being held prisoner in my own head, where I could not stop thinking about everything with a sort of melancholy piano driven soundtrack playing quietly in the background in my brain.  You know what kind of mental state I mean.  I was genuinely depressed for a couple of days.  But without going into all the gory details, we ended up handling it maturely and communicating with each other, and I feel really confident in us at the moment.  It’s been a seriously long time since we’ve gone through this kind of ordeal, and just as long since I’ve felt as low as I did those couple of days.  But it was good to find that we can still weather these things and come out better than before.  That feeling is worth more than anything.

So that was Tuesday evening that the hubs and I worked out our issues, and I started feeling good again.  Wednesday less important crap, but still crap, lowered my freshly re-acquired good mood a couple of notches.  The work day turned sour when I overheard a remark I wasn’t supposed to hear, made by the boss whose dislike for me I wasn’t supposed to acknowledge from 8:30am to 5:00 pm, Monday through Friday.  But now she opened her big mouth just a little too wide and allowed her foot to slip into it, and I am no longer pretending during those business hours, and that’s kind of nice.  It wasn’t like it was a new discovery – we haven’t liked each other for years.  But I foolishly assumed that because I am capable of behaving professionally and maturely during the aforementioned hours and days, that she was too.  And although I will continue to behave professionally and maturely because, well, I’m at work, and I'm older than 15, it’s kind of nice not to have to pretend I want either of us to have anything to do with each other outside of being co-workers.  As far as I am concerned, when I walk out the door at 5:00, she no longer exists.  It’s kind of a shame that she can’t take the same attitude about me.  Who knows, maybe I should be flattered that I have to do so little to get under her skin.  I just know that I’m happy to be the adult.  What sucks is not really being able to discuss it with anyone except my poor husband.  What also sucks is that I actually did spend a lot of time and energy trying to be her friend a long time ago.  I regret that more than words can say.  I just wish my work day didn't have to feel so much like the 10th grade.  And I wish I could count on other people to stand up for me instead of enabling her, but at this point, I'm just grateful I have the balls to do it for myself, and the clarity to see the boundaries of my friendships. 

Thursday was my birthday.  It was disappointing, if I can speak honestly.  This was a bad thing following a bad thing, unfortunately, before the weekend started looking up again.  I'm officially in the last two years of my 20's, and that's depressing enough.  But it sort of felt like nobody bothered with me much this year.  And I'm not high maintenance - I'm not talking gifts and lavish attention.  I'm talking not hearing from my own dad at all on my birthday, not even an email.  I'm talking getting ONLY an email from my own mother, not even a phone call.  Nothing from my sister, (who, to be fair, is only 13, so I suppose it's forgivable) and even on Facebook, some of my family members couldn't even take 30 seconds to write "Happy Birthday"? Then Sunday one of my oldest friends was visiting from Columbus, and I didn't even get a card. I mean, I don't need very much.  But acknowledgement isn't so much to ask, is it?  I know I'm super emotional these days, but I've never disregarded anyone's birthday, be it family or friends.  And it really hurts my feelings that so many people I consider close couldn't even be bothered to write two words on a card or an email, or a Facebook wall.  I feel like I've treated these people better than that all these years.  And it's nothing that's going to be relationship ending, obviously, but I do have hurt feelings.  And that sucks.  I guess it especially bothers me that my dad pretty much didn't bother.  Every year I take the time to MAKE him my own card, because I know he really likes it, and it makes him laugh.  I've spent a large portion of my life forgiving him for pretty much making my childhood suck, and still to this day go out of my way to be close with him.  I don't know.  I just feel a little lonely these days I guess.

I'm so thankful to Ryan for sort of being the one thing to balance out the crappy birthday stuff.  He made it really nice for me, and was very thoughtful.  He took me out to a wonderful dinner Thursday night, and made me feel special.  Without that, the weekend probably wouldn't have ended on a good note like it did.  Friday was pretty uneventful - pretty much average.  Nothing particularly good or bad.  Saturday my great Aunt took me, Ryan, my mom, dad, and sister out to lunch for my birthday, and that was nice. It made me feel a little better about things.  My dad actually showed up for that, and I decided that it wasn't worth ruining the beautiful day to be shitty about my hurt feelings.  So I just had a nice time with my family.  And I'm glad that I did.  Ryan and I enjoyed the rest of the day in a pretty relaxed state.  And it was sunny outside for once, so that helped.

Sunday we visited with Ryan's dad for a couple of hours, and then went to Quaker Steak to watch football in the afternoon with a couple of friends.  It's never quite as enjoyable for me anymore, since I can't sit and drink beer for 4 hours with everyone else, but I manage, with my Pepsi and a crazy straw.  Without the crazy straw, I don't know. But luckily, there are crazy straws.  After the games, we came home and carved pumpkins to get ready for Halloween, which I always enjoy doing.  For the record, I had to free-hand my pumpkin design this year, because my printer is broken, and I couldn't print out any templates.  I think it turned out pretty good, all things considered.  Also, the pumpkin I carved was approximately 734 pounds, and we got a TON of seeds out of it.  I love roasted pumpkin seeds.

So thus ends my 7 days of waffling between happy and sad.  I still feel like I am balancing on the very edge of being in a funk-free zone.  But I'm working it the best I can.  I imagine I'll be in a more stable position once this week has ended too.  Almost everything can be made better with enough time.

Fall Funk

I've been in a funk recently. I blame the hormones coursing through my bloodstream thanks to the little person inside me. I won't know whether it's a him or a her to blame for a few more weeks, but s/he is most likely the culprit. S/he isn't satisfied with stealing all of my fluids and forcing me to down 5 bottles of water by 4pm every day, and then sending me to the bathroom every 40 minutes. S/he has to steal my emotional stability as well. But it's okay, baby, you'll find plenty of things to blame me for in the years to come.

Anyways. I'm having some anxiety about the changes taking place for me specifically, and the changes that are going to take place after the baby is born. I know that this is all "normal" and all of these feelings are "common". But frankly I don't care how many people have felt the same things I'm feeling, it doesn't make it easier. I don't have an adorable round belly yet. It's just this protruding blob keeping me in this limbo between regular clothes and maternity clothes. I can't win. I feel gross and terrible about my body right now. I feel completely unattractive. And I keep thinking that if I feel this way now, just wait until after I have the baby. How hard is it going to be to find the energy and the time to get back into shape? Will I have the willpower to do it? Am I going to be a shapeless blob for the rest of my life? And is there going to be an echo effect in my lady parts when this is all said and done? Because I feel like I'm going to be a used up hag by the middle of March. And maybe I'm being slightly dramatic, but sometimes these things set off sirens in my brain and I start to panic. I don't want it to seem like I'm not excited - I am so incredibly happy to have been able to have this experience. And even though I haven't even experienced it in totality yet, I'm pretty sure I want to do it again in a few years. I'm just feeling a lot of different things that sort of run the gamut. Sometimes I just want to lock myself in the bathroom and cry for 2 hours, and other times I just want to write sappy and completely embarrassing poems to my baby.

I haven't been very amorous for the past few months. And most of this is due to the way I'm feeling about myself, but it's hard to explain that to my husband. I feel like I'm just incredibly disappointing lately, and that doesn't make a good combination with my self-image at the moment. I've just felt like I'm not exciting enough anymore, not attractive enough anymore, not interesting enough anymore. And then when I get through feeling weepy about it, sometimes I get resentful about it. "How dare you feel any disappointment in me, or feel any sense of dissatisfaction, when you have no idea what I'm going through / You have no idea what this is like / If it happened to you, it would be quite interesting to see how you felt" and all that sort of stuff. Of course I never say those things because I know they are stemming from the crazies that frequently take over my mental state lately. And the truth is, I can't even say I know exactly how my husband feels about me lately. I just have my guesses. I suppose I should at least be thankful that I'm AWARE that my thoughts and feelings are not always rational anymore. They can be pretty extreme. And I can feel pretty stupid about them later. Until they start again...

I've noticed that I've been less inclined to hide what I'm feeling a lot of times just to keep the peace.  That can be good and bad.  Coming from a person who could have made a career out of keeping everything stuffed down inside for whatever sake I deemed necessary at any given time, this is sort of new for me.  Sometimes it feels good when I suddenly find my mouth saying out loud what I'm thinking about someone or something right at that moment, and other times I wonder if I'm going to regret it.  The truth is, I feel almost like I've gained a little bit more perspective on certain things, now that I'm pregnant.  Different things are becoming more or less important than they were before.  And I haven't (I don't THINK...) been a raving bitch or anything, but I've been a little short.  I've surprised myself a lot recently with the degree to which I'm less inclined to give my efforts where they are not appreciated.  It's a lesson I think I can benefit from learning, but carefully.  And I'm trying to be careful with it.  I don't want to be a jerk.  But I do hope that after the baby comes, and the hormones are out of my system, I can remember that I don't have to be completely nice ALL the time.  Sometimes you need to be a little less passive.

I've spent pretty much my whole life obsessing about how people are feeling, and if I've done and/or said everything exactly the way I meant it, as not to give the wrong impression, or contribute to any ill feelings.  It's exhausting.  I've always felt an aversion toward asking for help and taking things for myself.  And these are not completely healthy ways of doing things.  I've always just wanted to be as little trouble as possible.  I don't really know why.  Someday when I go back to therapy I would love to get to the bottom of it all. Not too long ago, I had a tiff with Ryan and he said that I just never ask for anything so that in instances such as the tiff we were having, I could use that as a way to be a martyr. (I'm paraphrasing) That hurt a lot, and I realized after some time that it hurt because it really 100% is not true.  But I know it probably seems that way.  It's not that I like that about myself, because I don't.  I've just been that way as long as I can remember, and I don't know how not to be.  I've put everyone ahead of myself for my entire life, and I don't know any other way.  I've already admitted it's unhealthy.  I'm not unaware of that.  But it's really and truly who I am, and it was the way that accusation devalued my authenticity that hurt me the most.  But it also made me remember that I have some issues in this area that need to be worked on.

I think I've just been really evaluating myself a lot lately on top of everything else, because the farther along I become in this pregnancy, the more I start thinking about the ways I don't want to fuck up my kid.  I know that there are no perfect parents out there, but I know I have some things to work out, and I don't want to pass any of my issues onto my child.  It's one of my greatest fears.

So there it is.  A lot more detailed than I even intended to get in this entry, but it just kind of started pouring out of me.  But I think that's better, because it was nice to organize my thoughts and let them out into the ether.  Lucky you.

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

It happened. I'm pregnant. After all the months of worrying, whining, waxing frustrated and pining the ears off of my nearest and dearest, it finally happened. And now I feel like it didn't take all THAT long... It's funny how your perspective changes when you finally get the thing you wanted for so long.

I am 10 weeks along at this moment.  I know this because I had my first doctor's visit yesterday, and now have my first photographic evidence of the little vaguely baby shaped blob residing inside my uterus.  It was pretty amazing to see it pop up on the screen.  And the relief to see the little flicker that is the heartbeat, was something beyond what I can describe.  Leading up to my appointment I had frequently worked myself into a tizzy of paranoia and anxiety about whether or not everything was growing accordingly, and still moving along on track in there.  So to see it in front of me sort of washed me in this fantastic, refreshing wave of relief.  All of this is a feeling which is new to me.  But it is incredibly special already.

I am so unbelievably excited and happy. I am also terrified. There have been one or two nights that I have kept myself awake a little longer than I intended to, thinking and worrying about what lies ahead for my life, my marriage, my body, etc. And though I'm pretty sure it's normal to do this, sometimes I have to reassure myself with the psychologist voice I often use inside my head to make sure I don't allow myself to go crazy. I have way too easy a time going crazy over things like the blinds being uneven, or the paper towels being ripped off of the roll in places other than the designated perforation, so these types of fears have to be handled with extreme care in my nutty head.

I have this feeling that it's going to be a girl.  I will not be disappointed if it isn't, but I feel strongly that it is.  I can't stop wondering what our child is going to look like.  My fervent hope is that boy or girl, it is blessed with Ryan's hair.  Physical attributes aside, my mind often gets completely lost in space thinking ahead about this baby growing up, and all of the challenges and rewards that are going to come with it.  I can't imagine it, even though I try to.  Yet I know that no matter what elaborate story my mind lathers up, it will be nothing close to reality, and there will be things I could have never anticipated.  But I'm ready for that.  I'm ready for someone new to wrap my heart around and deem another piece of the puzzle closer to completing my life. I love to love, and I can think of nothing more perfect than a child of my own to allow me to indulge myself in that way.

I felt like I could write for hours about this, but there are too many things going on in my brain right now.  I will continue to sort them out, but for now, I just need to revel quietly in the monumental changes that are taking place.

Untitled

When the diamond worthy brilliance 
of the stars in our eyes subsides


There is much to realize 
in the dimness of the new atmosphere


Things we heard and disregarded
Things we saw and blinked away
They didn't apply to us that day or the many days ahead


Our mothers were just unlucky, we said
We didn't have to be
But the roses in our lenses don't allow for us to see


And it didn't happen all at once
And it didn't seem so big at first
And we thought that we would have the fix
And love would conquer all
And now we feel our balance waver
And now we start our fall

When the mighty force of gravity 
begins pulling us into ourselves

We begin to realize the realm 

of the discovery of our own strength

Each day we arm ourselves and stand

Push on in ways that only we can

The cards they force into our hand can only be played by us

Our mothers were building our armor, you see

That one day we would fit

When our warrior of womanhood had at last grown into it

Dumpster Blog

So there's this brain voice that keeps badgering me about starting a blog and only getting two entries into it before apparently finding it too difficult to keep up with.  Because of course I am so incredibly busy that I couldn't possibly spare 30 minutes to update each week, and clear my headspace a little bit.  That is not true.  I could, in fact, not play The Sims on my computer for 2.5 hours every Saturday and write in my blog instead, but I have the willpower of a small child when it comes to having the opportunity for instant gratification.  Also, when you put in over 17 hours of overtime each paycheck for months on end, you kind of tend to want some "me-time" when you finally get a day off, and you don't really feel the need to deny yourself of the one activity that you just really want to do at that moment.  I don't feel too badly about that.  I try not to, anyway.  Nonetheless, I'd be bending the truth if I were to say that it hasn't been making me feel a little bit of esophagus-squeezing panic every time I think of this poor little blog out there in the cold, dark cyber world, alone and shivering with only two entries to cloak itself in each night.  It's the same feeling I get when I read about puppies or babies being found in a dumpster. Except this time I'm responsible for it.  My dumpster blog.  But I am here now.  I am here minus the short attempt at poetry that I usually (two whole times) preface my blog entries with.  I feel like maybe that was part of the reason I kept putting off writing an entry.  The poetic creativity just hasn't been gracing me with its presence lately, and it's been making me feel like if I posted an entry without it, I'd be letting it win.  But I just don't care anymore.  Poetry fail. 

Over the past week or two, I've felt a slowly growing vine of discontentment winding its way up to my brain.  I don't know why - I have absolutely nothing to complain about.  Sure I could find some run-of-the-mill standard gripes that everyone  experiences, but why?  Things are actually going quite well for me at the moment.  I've gotten an amazing raise at work, a new car, no disputes on the home front in as long as I can remember, and the weather is getting warm.  I have a few concerts and trips out of state to look forward to in the upcoming months, and I've been getting into much better shape physically with my trusty treadmill; I have even considered trying out a 3K somewhere down the road, now that my endurance is building.  Me - running?  WTF?  I would have never EVER thought that would happen.  But despite all of this, I can't seem to be really enthused about anything.  I feel stuck somehow.  In a way, I feel this sense of claustrophobia.  Sometimes I get like that - it's not the first time in the history of my life that this type of thing has come on for no reason.  I just wish I could prevent it somehow.  If things go well for too long it's like my brain has a sensor connected to an automatic switch.  "PROLONGED CONTENTMENT DETECTED! TEN SECONDS TO SELF DESTRUCTION!"  And then even if there is no outside trigger, my brain starts getting all sensitive about things and making me feel like I want and deserve something more than what I have.  I don't like that.  I'm not an ungrateful person.  But I guess I'm also not exactly what you might call entirely stable. So I have to constantly try to find ways to combat my patterns.

Possibly contributing to all of this mental nonsense is the ever present fact that I am still not pregnant, but it feels like almost every woman within a three mile span of me is.  There are days I have a harder time dealing with this than others.  Most recently, I have been allowing it less  time and attention in my head, and so I haven't been quite as down about it.  However, it's still there, and though I have 3 more months until I have medical permission to go see a fertility doctor, my conclusion is that even by that time I will find some reason to put it off, because I have the hardest time accepting that something may be wrong with me or Ryan.  I realize that even if something is wrong it could very likely be something easily remedied, and it doesn't have to be something terrible that renders us unable to ever have our own children.  However, I'm scared out of my mind to find out either way.  I'm 27 years old, and I get very bitter about having such a challenging time conceiving my very first child.  I'd trade a lot of things to have it easy in this department.  It doesn't even help much to think of it as a message from the Universe - "Dear Jane, you can't even keep your cats off the dining room table, so you can imagine the confidence I have that you will keep a two year old out of the cleaning chemicals".  That may be true, but I don't think it's very fair of you to so poorly judge my prioritizing abilities, Universe.

(Sometimes I have imaginary conversations between myself and the Universe.)

When it comes down to it, I just want a little bit of time to rejuvenate myself.  I feel like a kitchen sponge that you've used way too long for way too many things, but you just keep wringing it out and cleaning out your casserole dish just one more time.  It still accomplishes what it's supposed to accomplish, but it's a little too worn to leave out in the open in good conscience when company comes over, for fear of being judged.  I guess I feel like if I just had a significant amount of time to not have to do anything at all, I would start feeling more like a new kitchen sponge again.  Hell, maybe I'd even feel like a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.  Because you can't get more badass than that when you're a sponge, my friend.  So I'm just going to hang tight until the last week of June, when I get my first week off of work since the beginning of October 2010.  And at that point, I'm going to relish my time off and soak up every moment of it like aforementioned sponge (that's the last sponge reference, I promise) until I can't soak up anymore.  Hopefully after that, I'll be much better suited for the daily grind.  If not, I'll just have to have a nice long imaginary conversation with the Universe.  Don't worry, I'll type up the transcript.

Girls, Girls, Girls

Remarkably

No pieces littered the ground

Where the uneven odds were stacked

Untouched

Time worked its magic on chance

And left everything else intact

At the risk of sounding like a Tammy Wynette record, I will say this:  Sometimes it's hard to be a woman.  That doesn't mean I would trade it for anything in the world.  There are some very unique and, in my opinion, superior challenges which womanhood presents, but if reincarnation is really a thing, I would still never voluntarily choose to come back with a penis.  Do you hear that, Universe?!  ::fist shake::  Maybe it's my slightly masochistic tendency to only be able to feel a true sense of accomplishment and liveliness when I'm hurting a little bit, and when I'm facing adversity.  I don't know.  But I do know that even when I'm feeling disgusted and disappointed in myself for being imperfect - and even while I'm simultaneously feeling irate for falling prey to the outside forces which make me believe I should be perfect in the first place - I know that there will be a time in the near-ish future, when I feel sexy and proud as hell to be female.  I think that sort of self confidence ebbs and flows for every woman.  That is my theory, anyway.

I have read that a woman's self confidence and feeling of desirability varies based on the stages of her cycle.  The closer we get to ovulation, the sexier we feel.  Because we're supposed to reproduce.  Procreate.  Apparently that is supposed to be the only reason for us to feel like being amorous.  Psshhh.  Okay, I'll give you some credit, science.  You may be on to something.  But I think there's more involved here than hormones and neurotransmitters. 

Women have a unique mysteriousness and beauty.  I mean, I get why we've been used for everything from sales and marketing to super nannies.  Sex sells, and everyone needs to feel nurtured sometimes.  Who could be better at looking pretty and having a natural ability to nurture and care for other living things?  I think we're pretty amazing.  And sometimes under-appreciated.  But I think some of our magic has been manipulated and used against us.  I don't know what we can do at this point except wait patiently for time to swing its pendulum slowly back to a more balanced place.  Because things like this evolve just as people do.  Probably because people do.

I don't like that there are things like eating disorders and plastic surgery screw-ups.  And I really hate that elementary school aged girls are more concerned about how much they eat for lunch than about Barbies and sleepovers.  These girls will spend most of their adult lives comparing themselves to every woman who passes them in the grocery store or shows up on the covers of their magazines, and determine their self worth based on the results of their mental calculations.  Sometimes they won't even realize they're doing it. (As I can attest to, and most of the women I know can attest to.)  But it all adds up and creates a larger effect as time goes on.  So why do we have to take away even the few precious years that they can be free of all this nonsense?

I wonder, for what do we do all of this?  If we all actually did attain this supposedly ideal and "correct" state, we would all be the same, and there would be absolutely nothing special about anyone.  And isn't that all of our biggest fear, after all?  To be completely and utterly not noteworthy?  How would we compete with each other like we are so good at doing, if we all attained perfection?  Does anyone else ask themselves these questions?  Because sometimes I wonder if things would be different if they did.  But I suppose it doesn't matter.  Things are the way they are.

Despite the love-hate relationship I suspect most women have with themselves, I tend to believe few would give it up.  Because when we feel poorly, BOY do we feel poorly.  But when we feel pretty, well, we feel something that I just don't think men have the privilege of experiencing.  Unfortunately.  Everyone should have that privilege.  But we women are extreme at both ends of the spectrum.  Which is part of our uniqueness, I think.  I just wish we could all respect each other a little more, and take the time to think about the fact that we are all in this together.  We are all so much more similar than we realize. We should celebrate each other instead of trying to exceed each other.  Band together and help each other feel worthy in a world that so easily makes us feel like less than we are.  If I am lucky enough to have a daughter someday, my deepest wish is that I can convince her of this too.

Beginnings

Beginnings are color

vibrancy and forward momentum

confidence and freshness

and rejuvenation.

A slow deep breath

and resting of the eyes

just before greeting

the commencement.

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.  I just lied.  That was a joke.  It is not a joke that I should watch Goodfellas again sooner than later.  The truth is that the first thing I can remember ever wanting to be is a ballerina.  If you've met me, you will find comedy in this.  I am fairly certain this initial aspiration of mine was due largely to the fact that a frilly pink ballerina get-up was one of my earliest Halloween costumes.  There are many a picture of me in this costume, mainly because I probably never would have worn anything else if it were up to me.  Thankfully, it wasn't up to me.

I imagine I am not the only girl whose first dream was heavily influenced by something like a Halloween costume decided upon by her mother.  Pretty, pink sparkly things are probably the most persuasive items in the universe to six year old girls (and some much, much older), after all.  I couldn't tell you all of the many changing aspirations which followed my ballerina phase, mostly because I don't remember them all.  However, when I think about it now, the thing that strikes me most is that almost 22 years later, the real truth is that I'm no closer to actually knowing where I want my life to go, or what I want to become.  Not a ballerina.  But at least when I wanted to be a ballerina, I WANTED to be a ballerina.

I guess as I've melted slowly into adulthood, I've become less inspired.  I don't like that, and I would like to continuously remind myself that there are some valuable and beneficial aspects of youth worth retaining.  This is why I'm writing again.  Writing was such a vast part of my identity in my teen years, and even into my early twenties, before I discovered the other fun things I could occupy my time with after turning 21.  But then life kind of took me over, instead of the other way around.  And now, when I ponder the things I might truly want out of life, I think of things like a long and happy marriage, maybe a promotion, and the ability to start and provide for my own family (which I'm finding is far easier to take for granted than you'd think).  Those things are good, heartfelt aspirations which are core to my foundation.  I like that.  It makes me feel good in spirit.  But I am craving some creativity, some spark, some stars in my eyes again.  Because I'm realizing that I still have to be myself, and I get to decide who that is, what makes me happy.  I get to choose, and I don't have to care how it appears to anyone else.  Like the fact that no matter what, I will ALWAYS put two spaces after a period.  I don't care.  It's the right thing to do.  If I want to walk around in a tutu, I'm doing it.  But for right now, in this moment, what makes me happy is sharing this blog.  And that's what I'm going to do.