i've entitled this post "in my dust" because that's where some things should be left. in my, or in your, dust. behind us. experience it, get throught it, get past it, leave it behind. the end. movin' on.
i've got the the topic of forgiveness on my brain today. i probably should have made it one of my new years resolutions. perhaps it'll be my birthday resolution...
forgiving those who have trespassed against me. those who have hurt me, who have abandoned me, who have manipulated, burned, and scarred me. emotional plastic surgery. spiritual tumor removal. exfoliation of the scuffed up outside to reveal the good stuff underneath.
basically: tossing out the old shit i've been holding on to. my emotional hoard of crap.
it's time for an internal spring cleaning, to make room for some new great things. like new memories from girls nights. and trips to europe. and romantic moments. i believe that memory space in all of us is limited, so why not make some space for those that are higher-quality?
hard as it is, i have found that in order to toss the shit, you have to forgive the shit. let it go. easier said than done, i know.
forgiveness is something i find very difficult to sincerely feel. i'm better at brushing things under the rug, saving them in my storage box of bad memories that i occasionally break out for bitch sessions and pity parties. i have perfected the happy front, pretending that things are great to peoples faces, while deep inside i feel resentment toward a few key individuals in my life. even people i haven't seen in years. i have held on to things that, when i think back to them, bring back up that same pain so clearly to the surface that i feel as if i'm re-experiencing that same situation all over again.
it's masochistic. it's only hurting me. it weighs me down. but we all do it. don't pretend you don't.
it impacts the way you treat other people. sure, you can say that you remember to protect yourself from future harm. in some part, that's legitimate. self-preservation is important. but wouldn't it be better to simply retain the lesson learned, and let go of the shit that came along with it?
i think so.
as a result, i'm doing some spring cleaning. it's that time of year.
it all started with my office.
i had boxes of unopened marketing materials loaded around my desk, up along the walls, stacked on top of each other, killing any feng shui that may have otherwise been had. it made me feel claustrophobic. scattered. i didn't want to bring anyone in, because i wasn't proud of the way it looked. it wasn't efficient, and it slowed me down.
so, i had at it. i emptied all the shit out, organized what i needed to keep, stored the useful items away, and trashed the rest. imagine me, 3 inch heels, outside in the rain trying to stomp boxes into submission. those recycling recepticles really make it tough to fit a 3-dimensional box inside that tiny little slat...
anyway. it's done. i've had my "open house", parading my officemates into my space to show off my good work. and i've been on a roll ever since.
i tackled my personal inbox.
going through old emails, i found one from 2 years ago. a potentially explosive grouping of words from an ex lover. sitting in front of my computer, i found myself in one of those situations in which i could either (a) relive my memories of that incredibly tough time, and hate him for all the ways in which he'd wronged me, or (b) accept his apology once and for all (his letter was one of apology), get past it, and leave it in my dust.
after 2 years, a few re-reads, a few angry tears and a profanity or two, i finally did it. i chose option (b), and it couldn't have felt better.
and so i kept going. i re-read journal entries from my days as the victim of a seemingly evil witch of a boss. a woman who has prompted me to feel disdain for members of a certain nationality (unfair, i realize). a woman who has created within me a wish to avoid ever having a female boss ever again in my life.
i read my harsh words. my hurt words. thought back through tough scenarios she put me through, and all the ways i had envisioned getting back at her.
and then i thought about where i am now. and how shitty her life must be if she treats people that way. and so, without any apology, i forgave her. i'm letting it go, after having bitched about her for the past 4 years. she and i are, finally, done.
there are more examples. but you don't need to hear 'em. think of your own. are they dragging you down? when you bring yourself back to that time (don't do it!) does it bring back all the shitty feelings?
my vote: lets leave 'em in our dust.
clearly, as i referenced above, it can take a long while to sincerely forgive. years, in my case. but often times those old hurts are the ones that hurt the deepest. and the fuckin' hardest to chuck.
it's worth working on.
it's that time of year. let's try.
tough love
i was walking with my mom yesterday, pondering our loved ones and comparing our opinions on dealing with the crises of others. my mom, ever the nurturer, is a listener. an, "oh, i am so sorry for you. this is what i feel you should do about it." when her advice isn't taken, and she is again sought after to listen to the same tale of woe, she offers up the same listening ear, the same soft response, and the same level of patience.
yeah, that's not me.
over the course of the past few years, i have learned a lot about myself in this arena. what kind of a caregiver am i? am i nurturing? am i a sergeant? am i a pillow, a brick wall, or somewhere in between?
to my own surprise, i have learned that i am a tough lover. and the more i love you, the more likely you are to notice it. to feel it. to feel an "ouch" in some of my responses or suggestions.
while, in my deepest core of amy, i know my intentions are right - i am trying to help, and doing my best - i also realize my tough love approach is , in part, a result of a lack of practiced patience.
and i am sorry.
there is something to be said for an individual with a fountain of patience. a heart big enough to feel the hurt of a loved one, without growing frustrated as that loved one seems to ignore your best advice and repeat mistakes over, and over, and over. a filter to keep from hurting a loved one with what they're really thinking, even if it's the truth.
my mother is the above big heart. and to my dismay, i have realized, i am not.
please do keep in mind, my intentions are good. my words are expressions of deep thoughts and feelings relating to the extent to which i love a person and want the best for them. almost like the stereotypical man, i tend to try to "fix" people rather than continue listening. i focus on next steps rather than the emotional catharsis found from simply talking something out repeatedly.
i like to think that, throughout the first few rounds, i provide a satisfactory listening ear. i hear you. i listen to you. i think deeply, try to feel what you feel. and then i diagnose. and i try to cure.
i need to keep in mind that, as loved ones go, sometimes all they need stops before the diagnosis stage of my natural reaction. you may not be looking for a diagnosis. more than likely, you're not looking for a cure.
you're looking for someone on your team, to listen to you, to hear you, to feel with you, and even to cry with you. to get it out, without focusing on what you may have done wrong.
i've been that "you", that loved one. i have been the girl looking for a listening ear, resenting the proposed diagnosis or steps toward a suggested "cure" to my situation. and i have also been the girl that chose not to take those suggestions. to make the same mistakes - over, and over, ad nauseum i am sure to my girlfriends and family. talking it out. same old story. same mistakes. woe was me (and sometimes still is).
so why can't i provide for my loved ones what i have sought from them? it's my natural tendency, but is it permanent? can i filter my opinions more thoroughly in an effort to spare my loved ones from hearing potentially hurtful truths?
should i?
i'm thinking through some examples.
my sweet mother tells me she feels as if she's gaining weight. that she realizes she is snacking more than she ought to, and that she feels unhappy with her body. she's uncomfortable. (i've been there)
what should i say?
my natural tendency: i told you those nuts were high in calories. scale back on them. i'll work out with you more often. I'll provide an estimate as to your basal metabolic rate plus your estimated activity burn so that you know how many calories you ought to shoot for in a day.
and then i catch myself: of course, you are beautiful (she is!). your metabolism naturally slows down, and if you're hungry, you should eat. i wouldn't worry about gaining a few pounds, find clothes that make you feel good about yourself and you'll always look like a rockstar. i hope i look like you when i'm your age (i do).
what is better for her? (a) the brutally honest truth, steps to help her "fix" the problem, (b) a reminder that she looks great, she's allowed to gain weight, it's probably just her metabolism slowing down and not a result of any bad habits, or ...?
i want to help. but i also don't want to hurt.
my single, beautiful friend tells me about the hardships of dating life, of finding the right man, of trying to figure out what a man's actions and words really mean. she's lonely. (i've been there - many times)
what should i say?
my natural tendency: he's not calling you back, he's not asking you on real dates, he's not taking any initiative - he's just not that into you. i don't know why. move on.
and then i catch myself: maybe he's busy. maybe he's still working through hurt feelings from a past relationship. maybe you should just give him some time, i'm sure he'll become more into you as he gets to know you better. things could turn out great! he'd be a fool not to fall for you (he would be - she's a catch).
what is better for her? (a) suggesting my honest thoughts - something just isn't there for him, there are other fish in the sea, she shouldn't waste her time and should force herself to leave him in her dust (however much she may be disappointed, confused and hurt) or (b) suggest alternatives to the "he's just not that into you" theory, allow her to get her hopes up, delay potential hurt, only to potentially be hurt even worse when things just don't work out...but what if they would work out!?
what if i'm wrong.
i want to help. but i don't want to hurt.
my boyfriend has had surgery, and he's feeling sorry for himself. as he should be - he's incapacitated and in pain. his inclination is to lay on the couch and slowly recover, worry about what could have gone wrong, and be nursed.
my natural tendency: i know it hurts, but you've got to strengthen your muscles and stretch things out. you're going to be fine, you have an appointment scheduled with the doctor soon, and it's not life or death. you should do what you can to speed recovery and get back into a normal routine. try doing things for yourself, and i'll take care of what you really can't handle. if you're in pain, take some pain meds. it's going to be fine.
and then i catch myself: baby, i love you. i'm sorry you're in pain. i'll do my best to take extra special care of you, and i'll help you with whatever you feel you need help with. talk to me about what worries you, and we'll see what we can do. if you don't feel up to trying to get back to normal yet, we can wait.
i want him to get better. i don't want him to focus on the negative. i want him to look forward to his recovery, and to take strides (with my help) to get there. but i don't want him to feel uncared for. i don't want him to stretch himself beyond his limits. i don't want him to become more depressed with his condition by feeling as if no one cares that he's going through a tough time.
what is better for him? (a) to push him, to strengthen him, to try to change his focus to his own future better health and to speed his recovery or (b) to coddle him, to potentially slow his recovery but make things easier on him, to baby him and to allow him to settle into the "sick man" mindset for however long it suits him.
i want to help. but i don't want to hurt.
and so, i ask you - what is the best method of providing support? how to help loved ones without hurting them? where should the filter line be drawn when it comes to expressing opinions, potential truths, and where should i stop at just listening?
i realize i have some work to do in the patience arena. that my filter ought probably to be refined. my intentions are good.
how do i help, without hurting? what do you do?
yeah, that's not me.
over the course of the past few years, i have learned a lot about myself in this arena. what kind of a caregiver am i? am i nurturing? am i a sergeant? am i a pillow, a brick wall, or somewhere in between?
to my own surprise, i have learned that i am a tough lover. and the more i love you, the more likely you are to notice it. to feel it. to feel an "ouch" in some of my responses or suggestions.
while, in my deepest core of amy, i know my intentions are right - i am trying to help, and doing my best - i also realize my tough love approach is , in part, a result of a lack of practiced patience.
and i am sorry.
there is something to be said for an individual with a fountain of patience. a heart big enough to feel the hurt of a loved one, without growing frustrated as that loved one seems to ignore your best advice and repeat mistakes over, and over, and over. a filter to keep from hurting a loved one with what they're really thinking, even if it's the truth.
my mother is the above big heart. and to my dismay, i have realized, i am not.
please do keep in mind, my intentions are good. my words are expressions of deep thoughts and feelings relating to the extent to which i love a person and want the best for them. almost like the stereotypical man, i tend to try to "fix" people rather than continue listening. i focus on next steps rather than the emotional catharsis found from simply talking something out repeatedly.
i like to think that, throughout the first few rounds, i provide a satisfactory listening ear. i hear you. i listen to you. i think deeply, try to feel what you feel. and then i diagnose. and i try to cure.
i need to keep in mind that, as loved ones go, sometimes all they need stops before the diagnosis stage of my natural reaction. you may not be looking for a diagnosis. more than likely, you're not looking for a cure.
you're looking for someone on your team, to listen to you, to hear you, to feel with you, and even to cry with you. to get it out, without focusing on what you may have done wrong.
i've been that "you", that loved one. i have been the girl looking for a listening ear, resenting the proposed diagnosis or steps toward a suggested "cure" to my situation. and i have also been the girl that chose not to take those suggestions. to make the same mistakes - over, and over, ad nauseum i am sure to my girlfriends and family. talking it out. same old story. same mistakes. woe was me (and sometimes still is).
so why can't i provide for my loved ones what i have sought from them? it's my natural tendency, but is it permanent? can i filter my opinions more thoroughly in an effort to spare my loved ones from hearing potentially hurtful truths?
should i?
i'm thinking through some examples.
my sweet mother tells me she feels as if she's gaining weight. that she realizes she is snacking more than she ought to, and that she feels unhappy with her body. she's uncomfortable. (i've been there)
what should i say?
my natural tendency: i told you those nuts were high in calories. scale back on them. i'll work out with you more often. I'll provide an estimate as to your basal metabolic rate plus your estimated activity burn so that you know how many calories you ought to shoot for in a day.
and then i catch myself: of course, you are beautiful (she is!). your metabolism naturally slows down, and if you're hungry, you should eat. i wouldn't worry about gaining a few pounds, find clothes that make you feel good about yourself and you'll always look like a rockstar. i hope i look like you when i'm your age (i do).
what is better for her? (a) the brutally honest truth, steps to help her "fix" the problem, (b) a reminder that she looks great, she's allowed to gain weight, it's probably just her metabolism slowing down and not a result of any bad habits, or ...?
i want to help. but i also don't want to hurt.
my single, beautiful friend tells me about the hardships of dating life, of finding the right man, of trying to figure out what a man's actions and words really mean. she's lonely. (i've been there - many times)
what should i say?
my natural tendency: he's not calling you back, he's not asking you on real dates, he's not taking any initiative - he's just not that into you. i don't know why. move on.
and then i catch myself: maybe he's busy. maybe he's still working through hurt feelings from a past relationship. maybe you should just give him some time, i'm sure he'll become more into you as he gets to know you better. things could turn out great! he'd be a fool not to fall for you (he would be - she's a catch).
what is better for her? (a) suggesting my honest thoughts - something just isn't there for him, there are other fish in the sea, she shouldn't waste her time and should force herself to leave him in her dust (however much she may be disappointed, confused and hurt) or (b) suggest alternatives to the "he's just not that into you" theory, allow her to get her hopes up, delay potential hurt, only to potentially be hurt even worse when things just don't work out...but what if they would work out!?
what if i'm wrong.
i want to help. but i don't want to hurt.
my boyfriend has had surgery, and he's feeling sorry for himself. as he should be - he's incapacitated and in pain. his inclination is to lay on the couch and slowly recover, worry about what could have gone wrong, and be nursed.
my natural tendency: i know it hurts, but you've got to strengthen your muscles and stretch things out. you're going to be fine, you have an appointment scheduled with the doctor soon, and it's not life or death. you should do what you can to speed recovery and get back into a normal routine. try doing things for yourself, and i'll take care of what you really can't handle. if you're in pain, take some pain meds. it's going to be fine.
and then i catch myself: baby, i love you. i'm sorry you're in pain. i'll do my best to take extra special care of you, and i'll help you with whatever you feel you need help with. talk to me about what worries you, and we'll see what we can do. if you don't feel up to trying to get back to normal yet, we can wait.
i want him to get better. i don't want him to focus on the negative. i want him to look forward to his recovery, and to take strides (with my help) to get there. but i don't want him to feel uncared for. i don't want him to stretch himself beyond his limits. i don't want him to become more depressed with his condition by feeling as if no one cares that he's going through a tough time.
what is better for him? (a) to push him, to strengthen him, to try to change his focus to his own future better health and to speed his recovery or (b) to coddle him, to potentially slow his recovery but make things easier on him, to baby him and to allow him to settle into the "sick man" mindset for however long it suits him.
i want to help. but i don't want to hurt.
and so, i ask you - what is the best method of providing support? how to help loved ones without hurting them? where should the filter line be drawn when it comes to expressing opinions, potential truths, and where should i stop at just listening?
i realize i have some work to do in the patience arena. that my filter ought probably to be refined. my intentions are good.
how do i help, without hurting? what do you do?
coming, going and gathering
my 27th birthday has come and gone, and here i sit: a new woman.
..at least, a slightly older woman. and i kinda love it! every time i've been carded since my birthday (so, the past two days) i have flashed my i.d. with pride. "BAM! that's right. aren't you silly for asking me my age? didn't realize i was such an established adult in this world, did you?" (in my mind, of course).
mmmmm...i like it.
i have to say, this birthday was a great one. it's not every year i am able to get together with many of my closest friends for my big day. i've been out of town for the past few years, and while i love traveling, there is something so perfectly birthday-ish about surrounding yourself with friends, food, and wine.
my birthday is honestly one of the few times it's easy to pull together all of my friends, from different areas of my life, in the same room. to get to know each other. to bond. to learn more about me via the other people i love. to learn more about them through their interactions with folks from different walks of life. the smushing together of social circles that generally exist independently of each other.
i realize this annual ability to meld groups of friends is based on an obligation my friends feel to support me on my big day. and i'm totally, completely ok with using this sense of obligation to my advantage.
i love to see the ways in which my friends interact. of course, there are many of my friends who already know and love each other. but then there are the folks that i tend to hang out with one-on-one, or in smaller more isolated groups, those that don't often get pulled into the group of usual suspects.
i love mixing my friends. i love the blending. i love when my friends get to know each other, get to love each other, and further entangle themselves in a huge web of mushy loving friendship as time goes on.
i have this ultimate goal, you see. for all of my friends to love each other, and to naturally decide that we should all set up this fucking wonderful neighborhood where we all live nearby, all get together for caul-de-sac cookouts, all share the same babysitters (shall we decide to procreate...some are already on top of this), and sit on our front porches with coffee. my front porch would have rocking chairs. lots of them.
my plan is underway. introducing these future neighbors is the first critical step, whether they know it or not.
one of the definite highlights of my birthday.
but enough of that mushy crap. let me tell you about how i ended up showing the world that 27 year old amy is waaay more mature than the 26 year old version.
it all started on sunday.
the boyfriend and i headed to the angus barn and made our way upstairs to the lounge of all southern lounges: the effin' wild turkey lounge. filled with mismatched leather furniture, antique tables, a baby grand piano, huge bar, crazy knick-knacks, hardwood floors and oriental rugs, this large area set the tone. casual class, with a little bit of quirck. it's one of my favorite places.
we started off with a bottle of a dry red around 3:30pm, claiming space for the friends to come. quality time with the boyfriend. one glass down. things are lookin' good.
folks started to arrive around 4pm, and we happily dominated one of the prime corner locations of the room. appetizers were ordered, along with my favorite vegetable plate, and the conversation was easy. my yogi friend, my pregnant friend, my engaged friend, my single friends, my older friends, my newer friends, everyone blended and everyone talked. and everyone drank. especially me.
with all of my wonderful loved ones to talk to, i essentially forgot to eat. sure, i stole a few shrimp here and there (thanks!) and a few grilled veggies, but for the most part - i just drank.
it was almost like magic. my glass was always half (if not completely) full. over the course of about 4 hours, i estimate i had perhaps 4 glasses of wine. over my limit (of one), to be sure, but certainly not cause for significant concern.
and then came the shot.
my dear friends know that amy and liquor do not mix. but it doesn't change the fact that a birthday just isn't a birthday unless you take a shot. and so, some darling lady loves of mine put in the order. to their credit, they each took one with me! but it was a whopper. rather than a quick shot, it was a few gulps, but (to my memory...remember, this is after several glasses of wine) i took it like a champ.
as we all prepared to leave i distributed my hugs, made sure everyone knew how much i loved them (with emphasis - wine is a truth serum), and learned to my great joy that i had one final stop before home.
yo pop!
a new-ish establishment to our area, this creamy wonderland is a source of great joy in the form of frozen yogurt. a beautiful variety of flavors, sugar levels, and toppings, all in a self-serve format. to top it off, a couple of friends were joining us.
we all hopped into the boyfriends car and headed to yo pop heaven. on the drive, i had a very real, very 27 year old realization. i was shmammered. and i was going to puke. every turn felt like a 180 spin. every acceleration felt like i was on a dizzying speedway. by the time we completed the five minute trek, i knew it was time. this was my moment.
entering the establishment, i whispered to the boyfriend, "baby, i'm going to go throw up now. shh, don't tell."
a 27 year old, clearly, does not openly puke in public. i am a lady! i smiled to my friends, did my best "i'm just going to go pee" strut, locked the door, and maturely took care business. (yes, there were small children just outside the door)
...and then, came the yo pop :)
the boyfriend assures me that i was incredibly covert, very classy, no one would have known. perhaps that was a birthday white lie. we're going to play along and assume he told the truth. he took wonderful care of me upon our return home, and while there may have been a round two...nobody needs to hear about that.
suffice it to say, i woke up on my actual birthday (monday) with a hangover, an 8am call with my boss, and a long day ahead of me. i won't lie. it was fucking.torture.
the boyfriend deserves an award for his thoughtfulness that night. he dealt with the waste of space that was the birthday girl with charm. he picked up the meal i had intended to eat the night previously from the angus barn, complete with all dine-in accompaniments, and even finished up with some yo-pop. i kept it all down this time :) it was wonderful. he asked me if i wanted anything to drink, and he handled my "ONLY WATER!" response like a pro. he brought me a pitcher. we cuddled. i recovered. he put me to bed and rubbed my back.
i don't think i'll be drinking any wine in the near future. i'm going to remember that hangover as a gruelling mark of womanhood. but my 24 hour birthday celebration will be a good memory to hold onto.
thank you to my friends. for spending time with me. for getting me shmammered. for loving on each other, and on me. and thank you to my boyfriend. for everything.
27, bit#che$! :)
love, aQ
..at least, a slightly older woman. and i kinda love it! every time i've been carded since my birthday (so, the past two days) i have flashed my i.d. with pride. "BAM! that's right. aren't you silly for asking me my age? didn't realize i was such an established adult in this world, did you?" (in my mind, of course).
mmmmm...i like it.
i have to say, this birthday was a great one. it's not every year i am able to get together with many of my closest friends for my big day. i've been out of town for the past few years, and while i love traveling, there is something so perfectly birthday-ish about surrounding yourself with friends, food, and wine.
my birthday is honestly one of the few times it's easy to pull together all of my friends, from different areas of my life, in the same room. to get to know each other. to bond. to learn more about me via the other people i love. to learn more about them through their interactions with folks from different walks of life. the smushing together of social circles that generally exist independently of each other.
i realize this annual ability to meld groups of friends is based on an obligation my friends feel to support me on my big day. and i'm totally, completely ok with using this sense of obligation to my advantage.
i love to see the ways in which my friends interact. of course, there are many of my friends who already know and love each other. but then there are the folks that i tend to hang out with one-on-one, or in smaller more isolated groups, those that don't often get pulled into the group of usual suspects.
i love mixing my friends. i love the blending. i love when my friends get to know each other, get to love each other, and further entangle themselves in a huge web of mushy loving friendship as time goes on.
i have this ultimate goal, you see. for all of my friends to love each other, and to naturally decide that we should all set up this fucking wonderful neighborhood where we all live nearby, all get together for caul-de-sac cookouts, all share the same babysitters (shall we decide to procreate...some are already on top of this), and sit on our front porches with coffee. my front porch would have rocking chairs. lots of them.
my plan is underway. introducing these future neighbors is the first critical step, whether they know it or not.
one of the definite highlights of my birthday.
but enough of that mushy crap. let me tell you about how i ended up showing the world that 27 year old amy is waaay more mature than the 26 year old version.
it all started on sunday.
the boyfriend and i headed to the angus barn and made our way upstairs to the lounge of all southern lounges: the effin' wild turkey lounge. filled with mismatched leather furniture, antique tables, a baby grand piano, huge bar, crazy knick-knacks, hardwood floors and oriental rugs, this large area set the tone. casual class, with a little bit of quirck. it's one of my favorite places.
we started off with a bottle of a dry red around 3:30pm, claiming space for the friends to come. quality time with the boyfriend. one glass down. things are lookin' good.
folks started to arrive around 4pm, and we happily dominated one of the prime corner locations of the room. appetizers were ordered, along with my favorite vegetable plate, and the conversation was easy. my yogi friend, my pregnant friend, my engaged friend, my single friends, my older friends, my newer friends, everyone blended and everyone talked. and everyone drank. especially me.
with all of my wonderful loved ones to talk to, i essentially forgot to eat. sure, i stole a few shrimp here and there (thanks!) and a few grilled veggies, but for the most part - i just drank.
it was almost like magic. my glass was always half (if not completely) full. over the course of about 4 hours, i estimate i had perhaps 4 glasses of wine. over my limit (of one), to be sure, but certainly not cause for significant concern.
and then came the shot.
my dear friends know that amy and liquor do not mix. but it doesn't change the fact that a birthday just isn't a birthday unless you take a shot. and so, some darling lady loves of mine put in the order. to their credit, they each took one with me! but it was a whopper. rather than a quick shot, it was a few gulps, but (to my memory...remember, this is after several glasses of wine) i took it like a champ.
as we all prepared to leave i distributed my hugs, made sure everyone knew how much i loved them (with emphasis - wine is a truth serum), and learned to my great joy that i had one final stop before home.
yo pop!
a new-ish establishment to our area, this creamy wonderland is a source of great joy in the form of frozen yogurt. a beautiful variety of flavors, sugar levels, and toppings, all in a self-serve format. to top it off, a couple of friends were joining us.
we all hopped into the boyfriends car and headed to yo pop heaven. on the drive, i had a very real, very 27 year old realization. i was shmammered. and i was going to puke. every turn felt like a 180 spin. every acceleration felt like i was on a dizzying speedway. by the time we completed the five minute trek, i knew it was time. this was my moment.
entering the establishment, i whispered to the boyfriend, "baby, i'm going to go throw up now. shh, don't tell."
a 27 year old, clearly, does not openly puke in public. i am a lady! i smiled to my friends, did my best "i'm just going to go pee" strut, locked the door, and maturely took care business. (yes, there were small children just outside the door)
...and then, came the yo pop :)
the boyfriend assures me that i was incredibly covert, very classy, no one would have known. perhaps that was a birthday white lie. we're going to play along and assume he told the truth. he took wonderful care of me upon our return home, and while there may have been a round two...nobody needs to hear about that.
suffice it to say, i woke up on my actual birthday (monday) with a hangover, an 8am call with my boss, and a long day ahead of me. i won't lie. it was fucking.torture.
the boyfriend deserves an award for his thoughtfulness that night. he dealt with the waste of space that was the birthday girl with charm. he picked up the meal i had intended to eat the night previously from the angus barn, complete with all dine-in accompaniments, and even finished up with some yo-pop. i kept it all down this time :) it was wonderful. he asked me if i wanted anything to drink, and he handled my "ONLY WATER!" response like a pro. he brought me a pitcher. we cuddled. i recovered. he put me to bed and rubbed my back.
i don't think i'll be drinking any wine in the near future. i'm going to remember that hangover as a gruelling mark of womanhood. but my 24 hour birthday celebration will be a good memory to hold onto.
thank you to my friends. for spending time with me. for getting me shmammered. for loving on each other, and on me. and thank you to my boyfriend. for everything.
27, bit#che$! :)
love, aQ
what kind of vert are you?
as i was perusing articles this afternoon on time.com, i found one headline that really peaked my interest - "don't call introverted children 'shy'". most likely, as i feel it has to do with myself as a child. believe it or not, i was designated as one of the "shy" kids, even "painfully shy"...i had to visit the school counselor twice a week in elementary school in order to convince me to raise my hand in class!
whether to the benefit or detriment of the world we may never know, but i have seemingly grown out of this phase and become what society would consider an extrovert. at least, that's what it looks like to the outsider.
but i wondered: am i really?
sure. i love to talk. i love people. i love mingling, i get energized in social situations, love conquering large rooms full of folks i've never met, and have little to no anxiety when it comes to introducing myself to strangers and opening up. i (unfortunately) don't usually think before i speak, i have little need for personal space, and generally prefer to be in the company of someone else rather than alone.
but then there's the rest of me. the me who dislikes chatting on the telephone. the me who prefers one on one conversation to large groups. the me who enjoys quietly reading a book on a saturday night rather than going out with groups of friends. the me who prefers to work out in silence rather than chatting with someone else. the me who prefers to communicate important matters via email rather than confronting them in person (i feel i communicate better that way). the me who really, seriously, hates conflict.
and so i wondered...what type of -vert am i? am i an extrovert, as i may seem? or is the introversion i was born with still taking up a large part of my adult self?
after reading the article (link above), i took this quiz (link here...click!).
while taking it, i was pretty sure i could discern which answers would indicate that i was an introvert versus an extrovert, and i thought i had landed squarely in the middle.
well, i was wrong :)
my results, i'm sure to the surprise of very few, looked like this:
whether to the benefit or detriment of the world we may never know, but i have seemingly grown out of this phase and become what society would consider an extrovert. at least, that's what it looks like to the outsider.
but i wondered: am i really?
sure. i love to talk. i love people. i love mingling, i get energized in social situations, love conquering large rooms full of folks i've never met, and have little to no anxiety when it comes to introducing myself to strangers and opening up. i (unfortunately) don't usually think before i speak, i have little need for personal space, and generally prefer to be in the company of someone else rather than alone.
but then there's the rest of me. the me who dislikes chatting on the telephone. the me who prefers one on one conversation to large groups. the me who enjoys quietly reading a book on a saturday night rather than going out with groups of friends. the me who prefers to work out in silence rather than chatting with someone else. the me who prefers to communicate important matters via email rather than confronting them in person (i feel i communicate better that way). the me who really, seriously, hates conflict.
and so i wondered...what type of -vert am i? am i an extrovert, as i may seem? or is the introversion i was born with still taking up a large part of my adult self?
after reading the article (link above), i took this quiz (link here...click!).
while taking it, i was pretty sure i could discern which answers would indicate that i was an introvert versus an extrovert, and i thought i had landed squarely in the middle.
well, i was wrong :)
my results, i'm sure to the surprise of very few, looked like this:
Quiz Completed
There are no fixed scores, since both introversion and extroversion fall along a continuum, with many people—known as ambiverts—falling somewhere in between. According to your answers, you are likely to be an extrovert
so, there we go (according to this quiz). apparently, i am more an outlier (apparently, most folks who take the quiz are somewhere in the middle) than i had originally thought!
not to say that there aren't areas of introversion built into my personality...but the extroverted portion of myself quickly developed and overwhelmed my introverted youth. and i'm o.k. with that. even happy for it.
what are you!? take the quiz, and let me know :)
so, there we go (according to this quiz). apparently, i am more an outlier (apparently, most folks who take the quiz are somewhere in the middle) than i had originally thought!
not to say that there aren't areas of introversion built into my personality...but the extroverted portion of myself quickly developed and overwhelmed my introverted youth. and i'm o.k. with that. even happy for it.
what are you!? take the quiz, and let me know :)
play time
i love play time. i love playing chess. i love playing monopoly. i love playing chef. i love playing nurse. i love playing sexy time.
and i especially love playing super mario brothers. AH!
my boyfriend, beloved man, recently sent me this link (<--click it! do it!)
i.am.in.heaven.
i remember the days of duck hunt. the days spent sitting on blue carpeted floors in the playrooms of friends, spending endless hours playing with mario and chowing down on goldfish and capri sun.
even today, does it get any better? perhaps sub out the goldfish for nice cheese and crackers, the capri sun for red wine or beer...the blue eighties-style carpet for hardwood floors and/or a decorative floor-rug (indian-style, baby...the way this game was meant to be played).
BAM. heavenly. nintendo 360 (and more recent versions) be damned. the original super mario is a classic, irreplaceable gem for which a spot will always be saved in my heart.
...i need to get myself one of those baller gray boxes with the original controllers. my birthday is coming up...! gift to self? (we'll pretend i didn't already gift myself with trinkets from jcrew and banana)
i'm about to turn the big 2-7. that's right. major milestone in the life of any woman. any person, really. but particularly for a woman.
why, you might ask?
because, in my amy mind, i believe it will help me to be taken more seriously. professionally.
without make-up, i have the look of a 14 year old. it doesn't help that 14 year olds these days look like they're in their twenties, with big boobs, lots of make-up and curves to make men's jaws drop. when i was actually 14, i had zero boobs, the shape of a boy, and wasn't even allowed to wear perfume.
kids these days...
even with make-up, i barely scrape by for a 20-something. i'm often asked where i go to school, if i'm old enough to be working, and am sometimes even carded for rated R movies.
on my last business trip i was asked, within the first 2 minutes, "are you old enough to be traveling around this state all by yourself?" um, yes sir. i'm fuckin' 26. but i'm almost the big 2-7.
contrary to what some may believe, turning 30 is not scary. you do not die, your boobs do not sag, your ass does not immediately widen and the end of your life is not knocking on your front door. 30, i believe, is when women are finally, really considered to be big girls. strong, competent, adult women.
i.want.that.
27 is one step closer. is sounds more serious than 26. it sounds more womanly, more capable, and more intimidating (that's right, i would someday like to be considered intimidating in the professional realm). it's an important stepping stone to generally accepted womanhood, and i am fuckin' pumped.
i'm not the only twenty-something female who looks like she's in her teens. i would say that most, if not all of my closest girlfriends look at least 5 years younger than they are. pretty baby faces with a doozy of a mind that isn't always recognized at first glance.
we are experienced. we are capable. we are wise and intelligent professionals with ambition and savvy. but we lack clout. because we look like babies.
...while waiting for the big 3-0, i plan to wield my new "7" with enthusiasm. and hope that folks i meet can round up.
quick note: just because we turn a year older certainly does not negate the portion in all of us that desires to be playful, to be childish, to be silly or immature. you can be 80 and still hold on to that part of yourself. and, even better - if you retain your dexterity, you can even keep on playing super mario brothers...f-o-r-e-v-e-r!
and i especially love playing super mario brothers. AH!
my boyfriend, beloved man, recently sent me this link (<--click it! do it!)
i.am.in.heaven.
i remember the days of duck hunt. the days spent sitting on blue carpeted floors in the playrooms of friends, spending endless hours playing with mario and chowing down on goldfish and capri sun.
even today, does it get any better? perhaps sub out the goldfish for nice cheese and crackers, the capri sun for red wine or beer...the blue eighties-style carpet for hardwood floors and/or a decorative floor-rug (indian-style, baby...the way this game was meant to be played).
BAM. heavenly. nintendo 360 (and more recent versions) be damned. the original super mario is a classic, irreplaceable gem for which a spot will always be saved in my heart.
...i need to get myself one of those baller gray boxes with the original controllers. my birthday is coming up...! gift to self? (we'll pretend i didn't already gift myself with trinkets from jcrew and banana)
i'm about to turn the big 2-7. that's right. major milestone in the life of any woman. any person, really. but particularly for a woman.
why, you might ask?
because, in my amy mind, i believe it will help me to be taken more seriously. professionally.
without make-up, i have the look of a 14 year old. it doesn't help that 14 year olds these days look like they're in their twenties, with big boobs, lots of make-up and curves to make men's jaws drop. when i was actually 14, i had zero boobs, the shape of a boy, and wasn't even allowed to wear perfume.
kids these days...
even with make-up, i barely scrape by for a 20-something. i'm often asked where i go to school, if i'm old enough to be working, and am sometimes even carded for rated R movies.
on my last business trip i was asked, within the first 2 minutes, "are you old enough to be traveling around this state all by yourself?" um, yes sir. i'm fuckin' 26. but i'm almost the big 2-7.
contrary to what some may believe, turning 30 is not scary. you do not die, your boobs do not sag, your ass does not immediately widen and the end of your life is not knocking on your front door. 30, i believe, is when women are finally, really considered to be big girls. strong, competent, adult women.
i.want.that.
27 is one step closer. is sounds more serious than 26. it sounds more womanly, more capable, and more intimidating (that's right, i would someday like to be considered intimidating in the professional realm). it's an important stepping stone to generally accepted womanhood, and i am fuckin' pumped.
i'm not the only twenty-something female who looks like she's in her teens. i would say that most, if not all of my closest girlfriends look at least 5 years younger than they are. pretty baby faces with a doozy of a mind that isn't always recognized at first glance.
we are experienced. we are capable. we are wise and intelligent professionals with ambition and savvy. but we lack clout. because we look like babies.
...while waiting for the big 3-0, i plan to wield my new "7" with enthusiasm. and hope that folks i meet can round up.
quick note: just because we turn a year older certainly does not negate the portion in all of us that desires to be playful, to be childish, to be silly or immature. you can be 80 and still hold on to that part of yourself. and, even better - if you retain your dexterity, you can even keep on playing super mario brothers...f-o-r-e-v-e-r!
back in the saddle
several phrases are running through my head right now, one of which is from a song..."i'm back in the saddle again..."
in this case, the saddle would be my comfy leather desk chair. the horse under this saddle, i suppose, would be my desk paired with laptop setup. whew. i'm off the road. back in nc. back in my bed, with my fridge, my clean underwear drawer, my gym, and my toilet(s).
i spent the whole of last week driving through south carolina (honestly, a beautiful state). hours on the road, sleeping in one hotel after another, braving public restrooms like a champion. don't get me started on the gas station toilets...
(well, i'll give you a snippet - imagine a cash-only station with a bathroom bearing a broken toilet seat, no mirror, gritty bar of dial soap and a dish towel on which to dry your hands. did i take a scalding shower as soon as i reached my hotel? you better believe it.)
i'm home now, and thinking back over the life-changing moments that have occurred since my last post. which leads me to the next phrase which has been running through my mind..."i have a dream..." it's black history month, after all. but really, in my case, it ought to be something more like, "i had a dream." two weekends ago (sorry for the lapse). it left a mark, and hasn't left my thoughts as time has passed. which means, clearly, that it was significant and ought to be shared. opened to you folks for analysis as to its true, deeper meaning.
here we go. imagine this. you're in my amy dreamy-mind, and this is what you see...
you're on a beach. somewhere remote. past the water and the sand is a green forest of pine trees. at the very end are two guerilla soldiers (not the animals, but actual humans with guns) dancing a bit and then falling down into convulsions. you are puzzled, but unphased. you walk along the water, admiring the view, relaxed and just meandering...that is, until the unimaginable happens (of course, it seems somewhat expected in your head while dreaming):
a giant, burning (literally, surrounded by fire) oprah winfrey comes charging through the forest, toppling trees and blazing a trail straight toward you, toward the beach. BAM! BURN! AAAH! and you're frightened. oprah is on a rampage, and she's comin' for you.
as you wonder what to do, where to go to avoid this terrifying fiery oprah, the skies part and you hear a low, soothing voice: "oprah, oprah, calm down. this is god. relax."
you look up to the rosy semi-cloudy sky and see a face up there, and you recognize that face. her face. the face of none other than rosie o'donnell.
in my dream, rosie o'donnell was god. at this point, nothing can surprise us.
it all looked something like this:
and then i woke up. relieved to have escaped the fire-blazing oprah, and calmed by the sense that rosie had things under control.
the question i pose for you: what does it mean?
is rosie some how tuned into the heavens? is oprah a fiery monster in network personality form? i am going nuts?
i swear to you. this was my dream. i cannot get it out of my head, and find myself now slightly more drawn to the rosie show on the OWN network. blast...
but that was a week or so ago. to give you a taste of my trip finale from last week, here's an interesting true story that caused my heart to fall into my butt, shivers to run down my spine and an emergency call to a girlfriend...
i'm driving to my final visit in south carolina to meet with someone whom i hope will become a future client of my firm. after a week of successful visits with warm (almost fatherly) receptions, i was at ease and looking forward to yet another positive experience. and that's how it began.
settling into the worn office chair in the office of my target - a 40-something, slightly overweight county dude...we'll call him billy blue - i asked him about his workplace. we discussed issues he encounters, and ways in which my firm can help. it was strictly business, he accepted my marketing materials without hesitation, and we exchanged business cards.
so that you can picture it, he looked a little like larry the cable guy.
toward the end of our meeting, when i sensed he needed time to let all he had heard sink in (he wasn't asking any questions and i'd asked all of mine), i said:
"well, thank you for your time! if you have any questions, of course you can ask me now, but if some pop up later on please feel free to give me a call or shoot me an email."
he smiled, and responded:
"well, in that case, i guess i'll be asking you out."
...i paused...wwwhhhhhatttt?
how, in what i said, did he feel it appropriate to respond by suggesting he'd ask me out?
in the uncomfortable silence, i played through what i had just said. and then i figured it out. somehow, some way, he must have mistaken, "ask me now" for "ask me out". certainly not what i had, in fact, said, but apparently what the man heard.
fuck!
a potential client, i didn't want to make him uncomfortable. add to that the fact that i was extremely uncomfortable, and suffice it to say i bumbled through the next minute or two with a red face and lack of eye contact.
he scooted his chair closer, i backed away and stood up to leave. he said, "well, you have my business card, and it has my home number on it. you can call me any time." he walked me out to my car, opened my door for me, and asked what time i'd be getting home. "late" is all i could say, followed by, "we hope to do business with you. thanks again for your time." commence hurried backing away in my car and speeding in any direction possible without yet checking my gps.
a few miles away i determined i was at a safe distance. i parked, programmed my gps for home, and anxiously pulled back onto the road, phoning a friend for support.
i spent the next few hours trying to calm myself down, re-running those moments of calamity through my mind and trying to figure out how to salvage the business potential without putting myself in a tough spot. would i, could i, go "out" with this man? hell no. did i want to make him feel silly and/or "dissed"? no way.
i was in a pickle.
as i was nearing home, i received a text message - something i don't often get on my work cell. checking it, i saw it was from billy blue...it seems he may have noticed my (obvious) carefully hidden discomfort in the last moments of our meeting. he asked if he had heard me right about him asking me out, or if he had misunderstood. after a few quick texts back and forth, we squared away the fact that he had misheard, but that we still very much hope for the opportunity to do business with him.
whew. that was a close one.
a glass (or two) of wine later, i was fine.
so there, friends, is a brief summary of some highlights of the past week or so. take from it what you will, comment at your convenience, and thank goodness for clean toilets, rosie o'donnell, and text messaging.
in this case, the saddle would be my comfy leather desk chair. the horse under this saddle, i suppose, would be my desk paired with laptop setup. whew. i'm off the road. back in nc. back in my bed, with my fridge, my clean underwear drawer, my gym, and my toilet(s).
i spent the whole of last week driving through south carolina (honestly, a beautiful state). hours on the road, sleeping in one hotel after another, braving public restrooms like a champion. don't get me started on the gas station toilets...
(well, i'll give you a snippet - imagine a cash-only station with a bathroom bearing a broken toilet seat, no mirror, gritty bar of dial soap and a dish towel on which to dry your hands. did i take a scalding shower as soon as i reached my hotel? you better believe it.)
i'm home now, and thinking back over the life-changing moments that have occurred since my last post. which leads me to the next phrase which has been running through my mind..."i have a dream..." it's black history month, after all. but really, in my case, it ought to be something more like, "i had a dream." two weekends ago (sorry for the lapse). it left a mark, and hasn't left my thoughts as time has passed. which means, clearly, that it was significant and ought to be shared. opened to you folks for analysis as to its true, deeper meaning.
here we go. imagine this. you're in my amy dreamy-mind, and this is what you see...
you're on a beach. somewhere remote. past the water and the sand is a green forest of pine trees. at the very end are two guerilla soldiers (not the animals, but actual humans with guns) dancing a bit and then falling down into convulsions. you are puzzled, but unphased. you walk along the water, admiring the view, relaxed and just meandering...that is, until the unimaginable happens (of course, it seems somewhat expected in your head while dreaming):
a giant, burning (literally, surrounded by fire) oprah winfrey comes charging through the forest, toppling trees and blazing a trail straight toward you, toward the beach. BAM! BURN! AAAH! and you're frightened. oprah is on a rampage, and she's comin' for you.
as you wonder what to do, where to go to avoid this terrifying fiery oprah, the skies part and you hear a low, soothing voice: "oprah, oprah, calm down. this is god. relax."
you look up to the rosy semi-cloudy sky and see a face up there, and you recognize that face. her face. the face of none other than rosie o'donnell.
in my dream, rosie o'donnell was god. at this point, nothing can surprise us.
it all looked something like this:
and then i woke up. relieved to have escaped the fire-blazing oprah, and calmed by the sense that rosie had things under control.
the question i pose for you: what does it mean?
is rosie some how tuned into the heavens? is oprah a fiery monster in network personality form? i am going nuts?
i swear to you. this was my dream. i cannot get it out of my head, and find myself now slightly more drawn to the rosie show on the OWN network. blast...
but that was a week or so ago. to give you a taste of my trip finale from last week, here's an interesting true story that caused my heart to fall into my butt, shivers to run down my spine and an emergency call to a girlfriend...
i'm driving to my final visit in south carolina to meet with someone whom i hope will become a future client of my firm. after a week of successful visits with warm (almost fatherly) receptions, i was at ease and looking forward to yet another positive experience. and that's how it began.
settling into the worn office chair in the office of my target - a 40-something, slightly overweight county dude...we'll call him billy blue - i asked him about his workplace. we discussed issues he encounters, and ways in which my firm can help. it was strictly business, he accepted my marketing materials without hesitation, and we exchanged business cards.
so that you can picture it, he looked a little like larry the cable guy.
toward the end of our meeting, when i sensed he needed time to let all he had heard sink in (he wasn't asking any questions and i'd asked all of mine), i said:
"well, thank you for your time! if you have any questions, of course you can ask me now, but if some pop up later on please feel free to give me a call or shoot me an email."
he smiled, and responded:
"well, in that case, i guess i'll be asking you out."
...i paused...wwwhhhhhatttt?
how, in what i said, did he feel it appropriate to respond by suggesting he'd ask me out?
in the uncomfortable silence, i played through what i had just said. and then i figured it out. somehow, some way, he must have mistaken, "ask me now" for "ask me out". certainly not what i had, in fact, said, but apparently what the man heard.
fuck!
a potential client, i didn't want to make him uncomfortable. add to that the fact that i was extremely uncomfortable, and suffice it to say i bumbled through the next minute or two with a red face and lack of eye contact.
he scooted his chair closer, i backed away and stood up to leave. he said, "well, you have my business card, and it has my home number on it. you can call me any time." he walked me out to my car, opened my door for me, and asked what time i'd be getting home. "late" is all i could say, followed by, "we hope to do business with you. thanks again for your time." commence hurried backing away in my car and speeding in any direction possible without yet checking my gps.
a few miles away i determined i was at a safe distance. i parked, programmed my gps for home, and anxiously pulled back onto the road, phoning a friend for support.
i spent the next few hours trying to calm myself down, re-running those moments of calamity through my mind and trying to figure out how to salvage the business potential without putting myself in a tough spot. would i, could i, go "out" with this man? hell no. did i want to make him feel silly and/or "dissed"? no way.
i was in a pickle.
as i was nearing home, i received a text message - something i don't often get on my work cell. checking it, i saw it was from billy blue...it seems he may have noticed my (obvious) carefully hidden discomfort in the last moments of our meeting. he asked if he had heard me right about him asking me out, or if he had misunderstood. after a few quick texts back and forth, we squared away the fact that he had misheard, but that we still very much hope for the opportunity to do business with him.
whew. that was a close one.
a glass (or two) of wine later, i was fine.
so there, friends, is a brief summary of some highlights of the past week or so. take from it what you will, comment at your convenience, and thank goodness for clean toilets, rosie o'donnell, and text messaging.
fill the hole
it happened again last night. the validation and self love that comes from spending time with girlfriends. ladies i love, who make it clearly evident that they love me as well.
the result? the mnse. major not sucking effect.
it's fucking critical to my life. it brings (happy) tears to my eyes. it makes me want to hug everyone i see (more than usual). it makes me gush to my boyfriend. and it makes me so happy to be me.
because i am. so happy. to be me. so thankful for where i have landed in this life, and for whose lives in which i am intertwined.
i wake up in the morning and i am content. fucking sleepy? yes. but glad to wake up as amy.
and that's what i want to chat about today. contentment - even joy - in being who you are. you may think this is starting to sound like lame gush-nastiness. you're wrong. this is important.
so let's think about this.
i have, and have had, a tendency to get jealous of others. when i was younger, i was jealous of friends and acquaintances whose parents were less strict. whose families seemed more "together" and carefree.
i would have traded my life with theirs in an instant.
as i got older, i got jealous of more material things. surely not a sign of increasing maturity, but true nonetheless. i was jealous of nice cars. jealous of rockin' wardrobes that i couldn't have afforded. jealous of those girls who seemed to have guys all figured out, and used that to their advantage.
i would have, absolutely, traded my life with theirs.
when i was single, i was painfully jealous of any and everyone i saw in relationships. i envied them. i wanted that. and i convinced myself that, until i found that same sort of relationship, i would be incomplete and a lesser person.
i made myself believe it. i was only hurting myself. and i wished i were someone else.
as i entered into the life of a monogamous lady-in-love, i still fell into significant periods of jealousy. jealous of my married friends. jealous of folks whose jobs seemed cooler or career appeared leagues ahead of where i was.
and at this point, i was happy. happier than i had been previously, at least. but i still had my priorities out of whack. something was missing, i still felt a little hole. rather than focusing on everything i had - and have - i was focusing on what i didn't. comparing myself to others.
it wasn't because my boyfriend wasn't fulfilling me. wasn't doing everything an effing fabulous boyfriend ought to do (he did). i wasn't loving myself enough. i wasn't content with who "amy" was. my focus was way off.
what i didn't realize at the time (one of the many things, actually) is this: from the outside in, i'm sure other people probably thought i had it all. compared themselves to me and were jealous. would have traded places with me in an instant.
and that's sad.
i don't how exactly it happened, and it happened slowly, but i have corrected the vision i hold of myself.
do i still feel pangs of jealousy? hell yeah. but i wouldn't trade my life for anything. i am so thankful to be me. i am so happy being me. i love and feel loved by the people in my life not because i need them in my life (although sometimes it feels that way), but because i want them in my life. they enhance something that is already good.
and i think that's the bottom line. friends, lovers, family - they all make you infinitely more happy when you don't rely on them for your happiness, but are able to enjoy them to only increase the joy that exists in your life. and you can make them, in turn, infinitely more happy when they also find joy in being themselves, and allow your relationship to only enhance the joy they already have in their lives.
i think it's why my relationship with my boyfriend works so well, especially now. i think it's why my relationships with my friends provide me with SO MUCH joy, now more than ever. they make me glow.
i think we have all had those periods in our lives when things seem dark. when we feel a hole, and search for anything to fill it, to fix it, to distract us for a while.
while relationships certainly help for support, keeping us from falling in headfirst, they're never going to fill it. it's something that, hard as it is, we have to fill ourselves. we have to find our own happiness in who we are. become someone we are proud and happy to be.
it precedes experiencing the true greatness of romantic relationships. filling the hole. loving ourselves. it precedes the greatest high point in friendships. it precedes being able to wake up with a sense of contentment and peace.
but it's do-able. i did it. and while i know i certainly didn't do it alone, at the end of the day i was the only one responsible for making myself happy. support and acceptance are critical. invaluable and helpful. but no one can rely on someone else to make them happy with who, at their deepest core, they are.
i wasn't happy. now i'm glowing. i am so thankful to the people in my life who have ridden the waves with me, and with whom i can now share the incredible highs of friendship and love.
i am so happy to be me. are you happy to be you?
the result? the mnse. major not sucking effect.
it's fucking critical to my life. it brings (happy) tears to my eyes. it makes me want to hug everyone i see (more than usual). it makes me gush to my boyfriend. and it makes me so happy to be me.
because i am. so happy. to be me. so thankful for where i have landed in this life, and for whose lives in which i am intertwined.
i wake up in the morning and i am content. fucking sleepy? yes. but glad to wake up as amy.
and that's what i want to chat about today. contentment - even joy - in being who you are. you may think this is starting to sound like lame gush-nastiness. you're wrong. this is important.
so let's think about this.
i have, and have had, a tendency to get jealous of others. when i was younger, i was jealous of friends and acquaintances whose parents were less strict. whose families seemed more "together" and carefree.
i would have traded my life with theirs in an instant.
as i got older, i got jealous of more material things. surely not a sign of increasing maturity, but true nonetheless. i was jealous of nice cars. jealous of rockin' wardrobes that i couldn't have afforded. jealous of those girls who seemed to have guys all figured out, and used that to their advantage.
i would have, absolutely, traded my life with theirs.
when i was single, i was painfully jealous of any and everyone i saw in relationships. i envied them. i wanted that. and i convinced myself that, until i found that same sort of relationship, i would be incomplete and a lesser person.
i made myself believe it. i was only hurting myself. and i wished i were someone else.
as i entered into the life of a monogamous lady-in-love, i still fell into significant periods of jealousy. jealous of my married friends. jealous of folks whose jobs seemed cooler or career appeared leagues ahead of where i was.
and at this point, i was happy. happier than i had been previously, at least. but i still had my priorities out of whack. something was missing, i still felt a little hole. rather than focusing on everything i had - and have - i was focusing on what i didn't. comparing myself to others.
it wasn't because my boyfriend wasn't fulfilling me. wasn't doing everything an effing fabulous boyfriend ought to do (he did). i wasn't loving myself enough. i wasn't content with who "amy" was. my focus was way off.
what i didn't realize at the time (one of the many things, actually) is this: from the outside in, i'm sure other people probably thought i had it all. compared themselves to me and were jealous. would have traded places with me in an instant.
and that's sad.
i don't how exactly it happened, and it happened slowly, but i have corrected the vision i hold of myself.
do i still feel pangs of jealousy? hell yeah. but i wouldn't trade my life for anything. i am so thankful to be me. i am so happy being me. i love and feel loved by the people in my life not because i need them in my life (although sometimes it feels that way), but because i want them in my life. they enhance something that is already good.
and i think that's the bottom line. friends, lovers, family - they all make you infinitely more happy when you don't rely on them for your happiness, but are able to enjoy them to only increase the joy that exists in your life. and you can make them, in turn, infinitely more happy when they also find joy in being themselves, and allow your relationship to only enhance the joy they already have in their lives.
i think it's why my relationship with my boyfriend works so well, especially now. i think it's why my relationships with my friends provide me with SO MUCH joy, now more than ever. they make me glow.
i think we have all had those periods in our lives when things seem dark. when we feel a hole, and search for anything to fill it, to fix it, to distract us for a while.
while relationships certainly help for support, keeping us from falling in headfirst, they're never going to fill it. it's something that, hard as it is, we have to fill ourselves. we have to find our own happiness in who we are. become someone we are proud and happy to be.
it precedes experiencing the true greatness of romantic relationships. filling the hole. loving ourselves. it precedes the greatest high point in friendships. it precedes being able to wake up with a sense of contentment and peace.
but it's do-able. i did it. and while i know i certainly didn't do it alone, at the end of the day i was the only one responsible for making myself happy. support and acceptance are critical. invaluable and helpful. but no one can rely on someone else to make them happy with who, at their deepest core, they are.
i wasn't happy. now i'm glowing. i am so thankful to the people in my life who have ridden the waves with me, and with whom i can now share the incredible highs of friendship and love.
i am so happy to be me. are you happy to be you?
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