Feelings, what are those?

Relationships. The bane of my existence. To put it simply, I suck at them. I can find a guy that is the easy part, they like me that too is easy. However, I have this issue called running. When I guy likes me that is my first instinct that is why my greatest relationships are with guys that challenge me, that make me hate them. It is a strange way to live really. I tend to 'talk' to a guy for a long time before backing out when he admits anything to me. Needless to say, I found one that I really, really like. Too much actually. We had been talking everyday, all day for the past month. Then it stops. Out of the blue. And for once, I am at a loss. Kind of hurt and confused. This is why I hate relationships, that feeling is not right. I hate not understanding the situation I am in. I want to know everything about why it happened. I am so laid back that it is hard to believe that when something like this happens my mind kicks into overdrive and I want to know WHY?!?!

Progress, nope not today!

Its tough, living with him, seeing him, and half the time wanting to throttle him. Lately, all we do is fight and ignore what anyone is actually saying. He yells at me and I yell back. He gets annoyed with every single thing that I do. I can barely breathe without him making a comment about it. I can’t even agree with him, without him thinking it means something else. The tension is unbearable, the feelings are unlike any other. And, I just want to understand why neither of us can be happy at the same time. I just want to know why we cannot go a day without fighting, I am broken and these tears are just becoming endless and tiring.

See more progress on: tell him I love him

The Below Post

My Pain, is an essay I wrote for my class. It brought me to tears and I thought I would share it with all of you :)

My Pain

As each question runs through my mind, only one stands out. Only one causes a reaction within me that allows me to write. In my life, I have faced a multitude of situations that have caused me immeasurable amounts of pain, and I have overcome them with the same grace and attitudes that were taught to me by my grandmother. However, nothing could stop me from making a decision that is so regrettable, that even now I know I should never have let my own pain keep me from following my dreams. Nevertheless, it was that pain that I was holding in, that led me to give up.

            I was ten years old, and at an age when most kids would be running around outside enjoying the freedoms that came with life. I was mourning the loss of a woman who was my inspiration. She had this habit of teaching me something without speaking words, my greatest lesson from her had come months before. I was an ‘elite’ bowler at a very young age and was competing for a state championship; all eyes were on me, watching as I readied myself for my last frame. My first ball hit eight pins leaving me with a split, my second ball did not curve, as I had wanted; I lost the championship by one pin. I was devastated and I tried hard to be happy for whomever I was bowling against but it was impossible. I was so angry with myself, but most of all I knew my grandma was disappointed. She said nothing as we walked to my grandpa’s minivan; we got in and started heading back home. It was ten minutes into the ride when she told my grandpa to pull over, I was pouting she said. Then before I knew it, she handed me the ugliest little doll, it has crazy orange yarn for hair, eyes drawn on with black marker, and the material of it is this dreadful yellow floral print and the stitching is all over the place. As I was looking at the doll, she whispered that she was very proud of me then turned back around.

            That doll became a lifeline at that moment, no one understood the impact of it and for a few months, after my grandmother had passed away I would carry that thing. On the front of this doll, a tattered old poem on it says, “When life is in the pits and you want to scream and shout, here’s a little Dammit Doll you cannot do without. Just grab it by its little legs and find a place to slam it; and as you whack its stuffing out, yell- Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.”  It may have not been the best gift for a ten-year-old girl, but it was useful, it helped me through what would become the darkest time of my life.

            I may not have had a firm grasp on life, I know now that I was young but I will never understand why my family, knowing that my grandmother was my hero, my lifeline, and in a way the mother I never had; however, my family would not let me fly to California with my aunts to say good-bye. They said I was too young and would never understand what happened, that I was not meant to see such things. Instead, I had the chance to send her a letter telling her good-bye and that I loved her.

            That was not enough though, just prior to her leaving for California I had told her that I thought I was getting to be too big to stay the night every weekend. To which she sadly replied, “You just don’t want to hang out with your grandma anymore do you?” At the time, I was unsure but I told her that, “it is not that I do not but I just want to have a normal life, I am tired of bowling and traveling.” Then she asked me if I wanted to quit bowling. I never answered her, she told me to have made a decision and when she returned from California I was too tell her my answer and then we would figure things out. I felt guilty that she left Iowa thinking that I no longer wanted to bowl. In fact, I loved bowling it was the one thing that we could do together. We could practice all week long then she would be standing right behind my chair with a smile and a coke every Saturday as I competed. I have never had a feeling quite like her comforting smile after an open frame or her cool glaze as I made a mistake by not listening to her.

            When the news came that she passed away, I was in shock and did not want to believe it even though people had been preparing me for it. The next few months went by in steely silence, I spoke to no one, and I barely even left my room. The funeral had been the hardest thing for me, before then I had never had a death in my family that hurt me so much. My grandfather tucked me under his arm and gave me a lifesaver. The lifesaver he said would help when it got too hard, to this day, I still suck on lifesavers when I am thinking or need to make a decision. I also never walked towards the casket to say my final goodbyes. The reason I gave my grandpa then was that, I did not want to remember this moment. I wanted to remember her smile as she hugged me goodbye, or the smile I imagined in my head as I wrote my letter goodbye. Time passed and it was time to get back to the alley and it was a short-lived experience. I walked into the alley, went to my lane and met with my team then the first ball I threw was terrible, and I turned around and she was not sitting there and I fell apart for the first time since she had passed away. It was then I knew that I would no longer bowl, I would never again step foot into an alley. I had to face the demons in myself, which came with her passing away.

            It has taken all of me to put these simple words in a paper; it is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do to write about the woman who taught me to never run away. Knowing that I did exactly what she never would have wanted me to do. I am not proud of my decision to stop bowling and repeatedly I find myself contemplating the decision to return. However, it is always a short-lived notion, I know in order to bowl again I have to forgive myself. With that said, I know that the most pain I am holding on to is a decision I made, a decision that I find it hard to come to terms with. 

Questions

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately, creating a deep sense of foreboding to be honest. I keep coming back to the same question over and over. What am I supposed to do with my life? It is a fair question for everyone. Does anyone know the answer?? I am guessing not, we can only take leaps of faith and hope with all of our heart that it is what we were meant to do. I was reading a paper today about cutting ones life short, that way people may do everything that want and love. However, I do not agree wholeheartedly with that point of view. Yes, life should be lived fully doing all that you want to do with it. Except, I feel even if people have shortened lives we may still do the job that lines our pocket instead of the job that we truly love.

Even as I contemplate that question I am thinking of myself. I would love to be able to sit inside a coffee shop all day developing my characters, writing my book or on my blog and enjoying some coffee. Regardless though, of what I want. I have bills that pile up, I have responsibilities and sadly enough I barely find the time to just sit around and do what I love. Yes, I wish I could quit my job and follow my life's dream but that seems extremely improbable. One day however, I will be able to enjoy a day in a coffee shop, writing without a worry in the world. But until then, I sit in my Dad's living room, procrastinating the homework that is due in a days time and thinking of days when worries will not bother me.

Mindless Drabble

I have spent the entire day writing, writing what I cannot say but I feel as if the words that have been flowing are more important than they seem to at first. Have you ever felt like that? Like you have so much to say but you do not honestly know what it is that you have to say. The words remove themselves from my brain in a fury and yet I do not understand what they are completely saying. I just want to feel, I want to feel and understand and question and I want to continue speaking my mind. I want to fully believe that anything I say will make a difference that I am not just speaking to a blank wall.

Let me continue on a different subject. I do not think I really know much about his blogging thing. I mean really everything I am saying means nothing really. Its just some mindless drabble that I myself find important enough to share with everyone on the internet. Hmm.. I wonder if anyone actually reads this..

A talk with a Purpose?

My dad decided that on Easter he would have a discussion with me about the choices I have been making in my life. I first thought awesome, I am going to get some lecture about how what I have chose to do is wrong and that I am not the same little girl I used to be. Instead, we sat down and he told me I was proud of me. That he was thankful I am making the decisions I wanted to make and that I was doing everything I could to follow my heart. Then he got this sad look on his face, and he looked down and he said there was only one thing he was unable to be happy about.

He said, I did everything I could to follow my heart; however, I was missing the big giant flashing letters that were present in my daily life. He said until I could admit to myself that I was missing something I would never understand a lot.

I was confused, lost and kind of mad. Where was this conversation even going? He ended it there actually. Walked away and into the kitchen to help my grandma with something. My mind was reeling, what the hell did he mean by that? What could I have been missing that he saw?

I think I just figured it out. I was just joking around with him and I had accidently held onto his hand, he didn't pull away, didn't flinch just kind of looked down. Then I moved. And the only thing going through my mind was shit, shit, shit. My dad was in fact very right. Except I now know what I was missing. I always say I cannot admit it, these feelings and I don't want to. Because admitting feelings is when things get tough. I cannot pretend to be an expert. But there is one thing I do know.

When two people are meant to be together, no matter how hard they try to deny it. It will happen; maybe not today or tomorrow but it will happen.