The happiness factor...
Happy. Such a simple word. So often unused. How many people are genuinely happy? Truly, honestly happy? For the longest time I went around claiming happiness, but all the while I was more dead inside than anything. I remember countless times when people would tell me to smile more. "Val you have such a pretty smile, I wish you weren't so serious all the time." So many people told me this over the years. I wondered all the time how I could just smile. Smile for no reason? Like some crazy ass fiend who had no clue about anything so they just smiled? Or like some over-botoxed hag whose face was stuck in a smile? But I get it now.
I get it. Recently I have been really analyzing my childhood and my feelings about some of my experiences. I realized that I held to the hurts and disappointments even though I told myself that I was fine and I had let go of it all. That it was in the past. Blah blah. But in reality I hadn't let go of a single hurt. The wounds would have long since healed and been nearly forgotten had I not held them open. I held the chains of my father's addiction so tightly that I was the one doing the damage. I kept this hurt so close and so tightly that I caused it to injure me over and over again.
I now know why I was so serious. It takes a lot of energy to fake life. To walk around making everyone believe that you are full of life, and that you are really living your life. When the secret reality is I was dying inside. I held myself so closely to my family--and the supposed responsibility that lies within keeping the secrets of addiction--that I was causing myself to atrophy. To remain in the town I hate living in, working in the job I don't want to do anymore, just surviving day to day. When I am a 26 year old woman who should be living her life to the fullest. I should be going out and meeting new people. I should be moving wherever I so choose. Living the nomadic life I dream of. Wherever the wind blows...wherever my next whim takes me. That is where I should be. Not settling for a mediocre life. Not wearing this stupid "everything's okay" mask.
So that is what I have done. I let go. That was the scariest part. The letting go. Like bungee jumping, the hardest part is the letting go. And ya know what? Once I looked at the wounds, they didn't seem so bad. I have examined my wounds, and cleaned them. And now--FINALLY-- they are healing. It hurt, and still does, but I feel better than ever. More whole than ever. I feel alive for the first time in my life. REALLY ALIVE.
All kinds of crazy things have gone on in my world lately. I have been hurt like never before, but in the midst of it all I have an overwhelming sense of peace and security. I know that I am good, no matter what. That what I have traversed thus far has been quite a climb, and so will the rest of my life. But I am happy. I truly choose to be happy.
I have learned several important lessons. One that sticks out the most is: I don't need anyone to make me happy. No one can alter my state of happiness, good or bad. If I am truly, honestly happy no actions can make me less happy, or even bolster my happiness. People aren't placed in your life to change your outlook, to make you this or that. They are not mood enhancers. They are there to make you a better person, and hopefully you do the same for them.
I'm done with this low living, pretending to be this and telling myself that I am that bullshit. I now living my life on my terms. Living MY LIFE! And it will be a grand one. No matter where it takes me, or who the main characters are, my life story will be a great one. I'm ready for it. It's time for a new chapter. The quill in hand, I'm ready.
Wanna read some more? It's gonna get good from here on out!
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
burried hurts, and misguided lies
The pain our parents can dole out upon our lives can be lasting. At one point I thought that the issues with my relationship with my father had been dealt with.
I was wrong.
My childhood is split in two. The chasm of drug addiction forever changed my relationship with my father. Before his addictions gained the upper hand in his life he was a fun-loving playful soul. My father was my buddy. I was a true blue daddy's girl. Everything my daddy did, I wanted to do. Wherever he went, I wanted to tag along. On construction sites, to the lumberyard, the junkyard, around town running errands, anywhere and everywhere my daddy went I wanted to go.
Then he changed.
In what feels like an instant, my daddy became another man. The daddy I adored so very much was dead and gone, and in his place stood a shell of a man. A man so gripped by his addiction that he was blinded to all the hurt he was causing. He states nowadays that he purposefully worked himself out of my life and became distant to protect me. Unaware--even still-- of the damage that action caused me.
It hurt so much. Time and time again I would find myself so disappointed and heartbroken. My father's addiction controls him. He wants so desperately to be free, and he has been, but he just cannot break the chains his addictions hold over his life. Even thinking of this breaks my heart yet again. I can't stand the fact that the daddy I so loved as a little girl is dead and gone, and in his place is a broken, lifeless man. The saddest part of all is that my father will likely die without ever having lived. He will likely lose this fight. I want so badly to see that light in those ice blue eyes of his. Just once more. What I would give just to see his face light up with that infectious smile and his piercing baby blues twinkle.
How do you mourn the loss of someone who you see every day? The paradox that is the life of my father. He is alive and well. And yet all the while he is dead and gone. Buried deep within the confines of crack addiction is my daddy. Will he ever see the light of day again? I am not sure. But I refuse to give up hope. I know that he is capable of being clean. He just has to want it bad enough.
It is almost indescribable the hurt that I feel knowing that my daddy, the one I miss so dearly is here, just hidden away. That the one I spent my days with, the one I palled around with is missing. But yet a very similar man is ever-present in my life. This man looks exactly like my beloved daddy, only aged. He sounds like him, it's all the same man...only he is empty. His eyes no longer sparkle, they cry out with the anguish of a man so full of life caught in the death grip of addiction. He sits there in his room with crack rock after crack rock, day in and day out. Living the life of a dead man. He tells me he loves me more than I know. He loves me more than anything... But how do I believe this? How when I would ask him to come to my school functions, or see me sing at church...or just talk to me, and he chose to get high instead. I want to be angry about this. But while he lit that pipe and smoked it every time on his own volition, he is also controlled by it. It is there screaming in his ear ever louder, a near brute force twisting his arm, his will and ultimately controlling his entire life.
Heartbreaking.
I learned as a young girl to just turn off my feelings of hurt. And when it was really bad, I would just flip that feeling of hurt into fuel for anger. I got to where it hurt too much to hurt. I refused to be hurt, I just chose to either turn it off and bury it within, or get angry. It became so much of my daily life with my father that it translated into my relationships with others. I thought that this was a great solution. I was wrong. It was fine and dandy while I was in the situation. Because frankly it was a day to day thing. It was seemingly more worthwhile to just act as though it weren't happening rather than attempt to heal from hurts every single day. Especially when those hurts would not end, nor would my need for restitution be satiated. It was one of my many auto-protect mechanisms.
I am now discovering the many facets of my childhood need to protect my heart, and the seemingly brash and harsh ways I deal with those who hurt me. I am realizing that I need to allow people to be people. I cannot protect myself from further hurts. People do not live up to our expectations, they disappoint, upset and annoy us, and they break our hearts. But these are all the plot twists that create the great novels of our human existence.
I have realized that I attempt to force anyone who crosses me to pay for the hurts my father caused (and still causes). This is no one's debt to pay. My father could have apologized all the times he hurt me, but he didn't. And now the damage is done. I choose to forgive him. And now I need to allow myself to heal. So that is my mission right now. To fix me...
I am the fixer. The one who must fix it...whatever it is I must make an attempt to make it better. So here goes. No matter the multitude of tears and personal wrangling, and contemplation I will fix this. I will find the way to fix me. And thus fix my relationships both current and future.
The woman I want to be is not a harsh volatile person who causes people to tread with fear and trepidation around her. I want to be exactly the opposite of that. I want to be an approachable kind woman who instills a feeling of trust in all the souls she encounters.
Obviously I want this fix to be permanent. And I would love to be able to just flip a switch and be that woman...but healing and retraining yourself takes time. A dear friend (one of the most influential friends I have made, and one who wounded me deeply...a previous blog is written on this topic) who knows me more than I know myself at times, gave me some of the best words of encouragement: "Val you need to be patient with yourself. You cannot unlearn something you have done your entire life in one day. You worked hard to protect yourself in that way, and that is the way you know. " That is what I will tell myself. Continue on...press in and fix this. I will heal from this deep set wound from my childhood, and be the woman I long to be.
I was wrong.
My childhood is split in two. The chasm of drug addiction forever changed my relationship with my father. Before his addictions gained the upper hand in his life he was a fun-loving playful soul. My father was my buddy. I was a true blue daddy's girl. Everything my daddy did, I wanted to do. Wherever he went, I wanted to tag along. On construction sites, to the lumberyard, the junkyard, around town running errands, anywhere and everywhere my daddy went I wanted to go.
Then he changed.
In what feels like an instant, my daddy became another man. The daddy I adored so very much was dead and gone, and in his place stood a shell of a man. A man so gripped by his addiction that he was blinded to all the hurt he was causing. He states nowadays that he purposefully worked himself out of my life and became distant to protect me. Unaware--even still-- of the damage that action caused me.
It hurt so much. Time and time again I would find myself so disappointed and heartbroken. My father's addiction controls him. He wants so desperately to be free, and he has been, but he just cannot break the chains his addictions hold over his life. Even thinking of this breaks my heart yet again. I can't stand the fact that the daddy I so loved as a little girl is dead and gone, and in his place is a broken, lifeless man. The saddest part of all is that my father will likely die without ever having lived. He will likely lose this fight. I want so badly to see that light in those ice blue eyes of his. Just once more. What I would give just to see his face light up with that infectious smile and his piercing baby blues twinkle.
How do you mourn the loss of someone who you see every day? The paradox that is the life of my father. He is alive and well. And yet all the while he is dead and gone. Buried deep within the confines of crack addiction is my daddy. Will he ever see the light of day again? I am not sure. But I refuse to give up hope. I know that he is capable of being clean. He just has to want it bad enough.
It is almost indescribable the hurt that I feel knowing that my daddy, the one I miss so dearly is here, just hidden away. That the one I spent my days with, the one I palled around with is missing. But yet a very similar man is ever-present in my life. This man looks exactly like my beloved daddy, only aged. He sounds like him, it's all the same man...only he is empty. His eyes no longer sparkle, they cry out with the anguish of a man so full of life caught in the death grip of addiction. He sits there in his room with crack rock after crack rock, day in and day out. Living the life of a dead man. He tells me he loves me more than I know. He loves me more than anything... But how do I believe this? How when I would ask him to come to my school functions, or see me sing at church...or just talk to me, and he chose to get high instead. I want to be angry about this. But while he lit that pipe and smoked it every time on his own volition, he is also controlled by it. It is there screaming in his ear ever louder, a near brute force twisting his arm, his will and ultimately controlling his entire life.
Heartbreaking.
I learned as a young girl to just turn off my feelings of hurt. And when it was really bad, I would just flip that feeling of hurt into fuel for anger. I got to where it hurt too much to hurt. I refused to be hurt, I just chose to either turn it off and bury it within, or get angry. It became so much of my daily life with my father that it translated into my relationships with others. I thought that this was a great solution. I was wrong. It was fine and dandy while I was in the situation. Because frankly it was a day to day thing. It was seemingly more worthwhile to just act as though it weren't happening rather than attempt to heal from hurts every single day. Especially when those hurts would not end, nor would my need for restitution be satiated. It was one of my many auto-protect mechanisms.
I am now discovering the many facets of my childhood need to protect my heart, and the seemingly brash and harsh ways I deal with those who hurt me. I am realizing that I need to allow people to be people. I cannot protect myself from further hurts. People do not live up to our expectations, they disappoint, upset and annoy us, and they break our hearts. But these are all the plot twists that create the great novels of our human existence.
I have realized that I attempt to force anyone who crosses me to pay for the hurts my father caused (and still causes). This is no one's debt to pay. My father could have apologized all the times he hurt me, but he didn't. And now the damage is done. I choose to forgive him. And now I need to allow myself to heal. So that is my mission right now. To fix me...
I am the fixer. The one who must fix it...whatever it is I must make an attempt to make it better. So here goes. No matter the multitude of tears and personal wrangling, and contemplation I will fix this. I will find the way to fix me. And thus fix my relationships both current and future.
The woman I want to be is not a harsh volatile person who causes people to tread with fear and trepidation around her. I want to be exactly the opposite of that. I want to be an approachable kind woman who instills a feeling of trust in all the souls she encounters.
Obviously I want this fix to be permanent. And I would love to be able to just flip a switch and be that woman...but healing and retraining yourself takes time. A dear friend (one of the most influential friends I have made, and one who wounded me deeply...a previous blog is written on this topic) who knows me more than I know myself at times, gave me some of the best words of encouragement: "Val you need to be patient with yourself. You cannot unlearn something you have done your entire life in one day. You worked hard to protect yourself in that way, and that is the way you know. " That is what I will tell myself. Continue on...press in and fix this. I will heal from this deep set wound from my childhood, and be the woman I long to be.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Susie...the homemaker
Ahh it grows...
The secret desire to be a housewife is growing...I fear it may take over my entirety soon. Well maybe not FEAR. It is a perplexing feeling...that of embracing the very thing you once ran from and denied to no end. Finally. FINALLY I am embracing the fact that all I want in this life is to be the woman that makes her man happy. To meet that man and fall madly and deeply in love with him, and build our life together.
For as long as I can remember love and marriage has been the thing that I feared the most...anyone mentioned it to me and my skin would begin to crawl. But why? Irrational fears and surmisings. I now realize where a lot of those came from, and I am working my way out from underneath the masks. I feel good...good that I am exposing the real me. My real wants and dreams for life.
Is it really so bad to long to be the wife and mother someone is out there dreaming of? Is it so awful to want to be the woman that nurtures and builds her husband up? Is it? Really? No it isn't...it is a good thing. I think the sexiest thing in the world is a man completely devoted to his wife. Who wears that band of precious metal on his left ring finger, proudly announcing to the world that he belongs to someone. The one he chose to give his name and his life to. And how wonderful is it to see a woman strong and gentle, holding her toddler and carrying the next soon to be born addition to a growing family? You've seen them. The young family at the park or the grocery store. Makes you smile doesn't it? It makes me smile too...and a wee bit of jealousy creeps in too, I must admit. That is what I want.
Marriage is a wonderful thing to want. For so long I felt that being in love and getting married was likened unto playing Russian roulette--one never knew if it would be something that would destroy their future and hopes and dreams, or something just to get your blood pumping only to leave you feeling neither here nor there...you're alive, but ARE you? You see the marriages I had as examples were just those sorts of marriages. But why should I write off love and my dreams of being a wife and mother on account of others' failures?
Seems rather preposterous doesn't it? This is the reason for my regained hope in attaining my dreams.
My dreams of an epic life still exist, they are just a little re-organized. Instead of traveling the world with my single friends, and having kick ass dinner parties with my single friends, it looks more like wonderful adventures with my future husband, and parties with other couples and their children. Summer barbecues with families from the neighborhood paired with the musical stylings of crying infants, arguing toddlers, and couples happily married and living their domestic dreams.
I think that is a much more attractive photograph myself. Love, babies, summer, fun...vs. Old maids who are obsessed with their chosen snobbery and the life they call "good" to boost their self worth.
For as long as I can remember I have had a bit of a love affair with the 50s. What do the 50s represent? Think about it...What do you picture?
I Love Lucy (Another story lurks here...I LOVE THAT SHOW! But it shall wait :))
The Cleavers
Potsy and the Fonz
The Honeymooners
Poodle Skirts, saddle shoes, and chevy's?
How about mom making a fantastic dinner and having it hot and ready for her loving husband when he arrives home from work. In those TV shows of yesterday the wife was always willing and ready to please her man. She woke up bright and early and prepared him and the family breakfast, met him at the door with a kiss in the morning, and met him again with a kiss in the evening. She sent him with a nutritious lunch...and maybe slipped in a little naughty note ;)
For some this scene brings a wave of nausea and women's lib antics come racing to mind. But for a lot of women this is what we long for.
I have had my feet firmly planted on both sides of that fence. Demanding fiercely my independence and carving out dreams of a prestigious career. And now I have jumped over the fence to the side of wanting to be the wife in those old time TV shows. Susie...the homemaker.
I have decided to embrace my affinity for baking and cooking and doing laundry and keeping my house tidy. I embrace the fact that I love children, and they love me--they flock to me. :) Wherever I am those little buggers find me, and we make each other smile. Kids are wonderful. Nowadays when my friends tease me and say I am a soccer mom, I don't cringe the way I used to...I get a bit of a smile on my face, and think about what it will be like when I really am a mom.
I'm ready for love.
I'm ready for marriage.
I'm ready to begin my life.
I'M READY!
The secret desire to be a housewife is growing...I fear it may take over my entirety soon. Well maybe not FEAR. It is a perplexing feeling...that of embracing the very thing you once ran from and denied to no end. Finally. FINALLY I am embracing the fact that all I want in this life is to be the woman that makes her man happy. To meet that man and fall madly and deeply in love with him, and build our life together.
For as long as I can remember love and marriage has been the thing that I feared the most...anyone mentioned it to me and my skin would begin to crawl. But why? Irrational fears and surmisings. I now realize where a lot of those came from, and I am working my way out from underneath the masks. I feel good...good that I am exposing the real me. My real wants and dreams for life.
Is it really so bad to long to be the wife and mother someone is out there dreaming of? Is it so awful to want to be the woman that nurtures and builds her husband up? Is it? Really? No it isn't...it is a good thing. I think the sexiest thing in the world is a man completely devoted to his wife. Who wears that band of precious metal on his left ring finger, proudly announcing to the world that he belongs to someone. The one he chose to give his name and his life to. And how wonderful is it to see a woman strong and gentle, holding her toddler and carrying the next soon to be born addition to a growing family? You've seen them. The young family at the park or the grocery store. Makes you smile doesn't it? It makes me smile too...and a wee bit of jealousy creeps in too, I must admit. That is what I want.
Marriage is a wonderful thing to want. For so long I felt that being in love and getting married was likened unto playing Russian roulette--one never knew if it would be something that would destroy their future and hopes and dreams, or something just to get your blood pumping only to leave you feeling neither here nor there...you're alive, but ARE you? You see the marriages I had as examples were just those sorts of marriages. But why should I write off love and my dreams of being a wife and mother on account of others' failures?
Seems rather preposterous doesn't it? This is the reason for my regained hope in attaining my dreams.
My dreams of an epic life still exist, they are just a little re-organized. Instead of traveling the world with my single friends, and having kick ass dinner parties with my single friends, it looks more like wonderful adventures with my future husband, and parties with other couples and their children. Summer barbecues with families from the neighborhood paired with the musical stylings of crying infants, arguing toddlers, and couples happily married and living their domestic dreams.
I think that is a much more attractive photograph myself. Love, babies, summer, fun...vs. Old maids who are obsessed with their chosen snobbery and the life they call "good" to boost their self worth.
For as long as I can remember I have had a bit of a love affair with the 50s. What do the 50s represent? Think about it...What do you picture?
I Love Lucy (Another story lurks here...I LOVE THAT SHOW! But it shall wait :))
The Cleavers
Potsy and the Fonz
The Honeymooners
Poodle Skirts, saddle shoes, and chevy's?
How about mom making a fantastic dinner and having it hot and ready for her loving husband when he arrives home from work. In those TV shows of yesterday the wife was always willing and ready to please her man. She woke up bright and early and prepared him and the family breakfast, met him at the door with a kiss in the morning, and met him again with a kiss in the evening. She sent him with a nutritious lunch...and maybe slipped in a little naughty note ;)
For some this scene brings a wave of nausea and women's lib antics come racing to mind. But for a lot of women this is what we long for.
I have had my feet firmly planted on both sides of that fence. Demanding fiercely my independence and carving out dreams of a prestigious career. And now I have jumped over the fence to the side of wanting to be the wife in those old time TV shows. Susie...the homemaker.
I have decided to embrace my affinity for baking and cooking and doing laundry and keeping my house tidy. I embrace the fact that I love children, and they love me--they flock to me. :) Wherever I am those little buggers find me, and we make each other smile. Kids are wonderful. Nowadays when my friends tease me and say I am a soccer mom, I don't cringe the way I used to...I get a bit of a smile on my face, and think about what it will be like when I really am a mom.
I'm ready for love.
I'm ready for marriage.
I'm ready to begin my life.
I'M READY!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Harsh? Blunt?
Harsh: unpleasantly stern.
I can be harsh at times...but life is harsh. I have always stood very soundly in my opposition to sugar-coating. I think that people are too afraid of hurting one another's feelings. So instead of saying or doing what really needs to be done, they save face and leave things unsaid, or undone. Only for a later outcome...usually ending in the situation spiraling completely out of control.
While we are on the subject of control...Stern has another meaning. The rear of a ship, where the rudder is located. A ship cannot go without a rudder, guiding its every move, making sure the vessel in on course. Making at times, harsh but necessary movements to regain the course of the vessel. These movements are a bit unnerving for passengers, and even the crew, but all are better for the decision to right the course.
Bluntness: the quality of being direct and outspoken.
I like to speak what I think. I think these two qualities are interlinked. I think that in order to be blunt, one must at times be harsh, or at least be accused of harshness. In American culture it is--for some reason-- thought of as bad, or poor taste to be harsh or to bluntly tell the facts. But I think that plenty of times people need just that, and it may well be better for them, and all parties involved.
Now I don't run around telling people exactly every single thing that pops into my head. But certain things need to be shared. I always try to be as tactful as possible. Yes people's feelings get hurt, but it is not okay to run around hurting people's feelings for sport.
In these last few weeks I have made some harsh decisions...the hardest was to tell my best friend and roommate to move out. I felt betrayed by her actions in the weeks prior, and I feel that those actions have led to the demise of our friendship. And some may say this is harsh, and it may well be. But I think that the harsher outcome would be to continue in a toxic situation...waiting for God knows what to come about. She now knows exactly how I feel, and the full effect of her actions. Now we can both move on from here and learn from this situation...
I can be harsh at times...but life is harsh. I have always stood very soundly in my opposition to sugar-coating. I think that people are too afraid of hurting one another's feelings. So instead of saying or doing what really needs to be done, they save face and leave things unsaid, or undone. Only for a later outcome...usually ending in the situation spiraling completely out of control.
While we are on the subject of control...Stern has another meaning. The rear of a ship, where the rudder is located. A ship cannot go without a rudder, guiding its every move, making sure the vessel in on course. Making at times, harsh but necessary movements to regain the course of the vessel. These movements are a bit unnerving for passengers, and even the crew, but all are better for the decision to right the course.
Bluntness: the quality of being direct and outspoken.
I like to speak what I think. I think these two qualities are interlinked. I think that in order to be blunt, one must at times be harsh, or at least be accused of harshness. In American culture it is--for some reason-- thought of as bad, or poor taste to be harsh or to bluntly tell the facts. But I think that plenty of times people need just that, and it may well be better for them, and all parties involved.
Now I don't run around telling people exactly every single thing that pops into my head. But certain things need to be shared. I always try to be as tactful as possible. Yes people's feelings get hurt, but it is not okay to run around hurting people's feelings for sport.
In these last few weeks I have made some harsh decisions...the hardest was to tell my best friend and roommate to move out. I felt betrayed by her actions in the weeks prior, and I feel that those actions have led to the demise of our friendship. And some may say this is harsh, and it may well be. But I think that the harsher outcome would be to continue in a toxic situation...waiting for God knows what to come about. She now knows exactly how I feel, and the full effect of her actions. Now we can both move on from here and learn from this situation...
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Naughty...or nice?
Naughty... what comes to mind?
Nice...what comes to mind?
Isn't naughty nice sometimes? I think so. I think that naughty is nicer than nice. Why are people so nice all the time? To me, niceties are often times people holding back. Holding back who they are, or what they really think, or what they really want. People aren't "nice." People learn to be nice...or even pretend to be nice...and learn to stifle themselves for the sake of being how they "should" be.
I was raised in a church that thought most everything was wrong. Even setting foot in a bar was wrong... because apparently alcoholism might attack you and take control of you if you set foot in a bar--or God forbid! have a drink. Even cooking with any kind of alcohol was wrong to them. Frankly I think all this obsession over right and wrong and "should" and "should not" is a load of crap. Why are humans as a whole, completely obsessed with what people think? Or what they "should" do?
Maybe people should start being real. Take your mask off and be you. Just BE. I have come to like this approach to living my life. I am so much happier now...I am comfortable in my own skin...and I make my choices...MINE no one else's. Maybe society and human kind as a whole really would be nicer if they knew people were being real with eachother, and most importantly themselves. Obviously this is not the kind of nice and naughty I started this discussion with. But I think it ties in. The more comfortable you are with you...your wants, desires, needs, thoughts, views, etc. The more you will open up...and possibly even be a little naughty.
I have...and I like naughty Val much MUCH better than prim and proper "Ms Perfect all the time" Val. And you know what? I think the people in my life like her better too...Ms prim and proper was a bit of a bitch...and also it was a lie. I may have seemed prim and proper...but that was NOT the case...it was just a secret.
So what is your secret? What are you afraid to let loose in the world. It probably won't be the Pandora's box you expect it to be...give it a whirl. What do you have to lose? Except for maybe a mask...and a fake personality. I lost mine. And I am not done yet. I am not as comfortable as I want to be...but all in time.
Nice...what comes to mind?
Isn't naughty nice sometimes? I think so. I think that naughty is nicer than nice. Why are people so nice all the time? To me, niceties are often times people holding back. Holding back who they are, or what they really think, or what they really want. People aren't "nice." People learn to be nice...or even pretend to be nice...and learn to stifle themselves for the sake of being how they "should" be.
I was raised in a church that thought most everything was wrong. Even setting foot in a bar was wrong... because apparently alcoholism might attack you and take control of you if you set foot in a bar--or God forbid! have a drink. Even cooking with any kind of alcohol was wrong to them. Frankly I think all this obsession over right and wrong and "should" and "should not" is a load of crap. Why are humans as a whole, completely obsessed with what people think? Or what they "should" do?
Maybe people should start being real. Take your mask off and be you. Just BE. I have come to like this approach to living my life. I am so much happier now...I am comfortable in my own skin...and I make my choices...MINE no one else's. Maybe society and human kind as a whole really would be nicer if they knew people were being real with eachother, and most importantly themselves. Obviously this is not the kind of nice and naughty I started this discussion with. But I think it ties in. The more comfortable you are with you...your wants, desires, needs, thoughts, views, etc. The more you will open up...and possibly even be a little naughty.
I have...and I like naughty Val much MUCH better than prim and proper "Ms Perfect all the time" Val. And you know what? I think the people in my life like her better too...Ms prim and proper was a bit of a bitch...and also it was a lie. I may have seemed prim and proper...but that was NOT the case...it was just a secret.
So what is your secret? What are you afraid to let loose in the world. It probably won't be the Pandora's box you expect it to be...give it a whirl. What do you have to lose? Except for maybe a mask...and a fake personality. I lost mine. And I am not done yet. I am not as comfortable as I want to be...but all in time.
Friday, January 30, 2009
What I really want...
First of many chapters I suppose...
So I have been changing a lot in this last year--more on that another time--due to a lot of reasons, but primarily due to the fact that something huge happened in my world, causing it to turn inside out. And I don't know about you, but the insides of things are not pretty. While the outside is meant to be seen, and is nice to look at, the inside may be another story entirely. As was the case with my life, and who I thought I was...
So after a year of staring at the bloody viscera of what my life was supposed to be, and what it 'should have' looked like, I have finally reached the point where I feel that who I truly am, and what my viscera looks like, is me. Me, ME, Val, the real one. Not someone else's representation of who Val should be, but Val. Period. I like this Val. This Val is comfortable in her own skin, and not "Ms. Perfect" all the time. I have come to the realization that as scary and as shitty as life can be, it is GREAT! But, it can only be great if you allow it to be, and IF YOU LIVE IT!
I spent a long time making and wearing my mask of independence. I wore it well...and damn it was a nice looking mask, only problem was: life isn't supposed to be a masquerade ball. Who knew?! I spent tons of energy on that mask, only to find it would better serve me and the people in my life if I cast it asunder. So upon removing my mask I was faced with yet more questions...Who am I? What do I want? Who do I really want to be? Where do I want this life to take me? And so on...
So here goes the start to the answering...
What do I REALLY want in life...no masks...just truth.
In this life I want the simple things really. I want to share my life, and make an amazing journey with a great man. A man who I can trust with my whole heart. A man who I can trust enough to fall for, and know that he will catch me. That he will catch me in his arms, and that when I fall his strength won't waiver...he will stand strong, holding the woman he loves. The man that is my companion...my partner in crime.
I want to be able to be the woman he needs. The one who takes care of him. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. I want to meet his every need. To make my man know he is well taken care of, in any and every area he can think up. And I want him to do the same for me. I want to be Susie Homemaker, and have dinner ready when he comes home...I want to be the vixen who is standing in the kitchen with only an apron on. I want to meet him at the front door and attack him. I want to send him dirty little notes in his lunch everyday. Or panties in his coat pocket. I want to wake up every morning in his arms, and know how much he loves me, and how much I love him, without saying one word.
For so long I have talked about the life of adventure and going "balls to the wall" and taking this world for everything it has. And I want that, oh man do I want that. But I want someone to share it with. To build a life of memories with. Friends are great to make memories with, but making a life with someone is what I truly long for.
There is adventure to be found all over the world. Riding a bull, participating in the Tomatina, hiking the Great Wall of China, scuba diving, parasailing, sailing around the world, shooting a 50 cal, and all the other crazy ass things on my list of to dos. But while it may sound simple as hell, I think true adventure is found in living life. In finding the love of my life and marrying him, living life together...figuring out how to do life together. Raising kids, going to work every day, and falling asleep in eachother's arms every night. Just living, and making memories. That is the adventure I want. The adrenaline rush I have truly been looking for...
So I have been changing a lot in this last year--more on that another time--due to a lot of reasons, but primarily due to the fact that something huge happened in my world, causing it to turn inside out. And I don't know about you, but the insides of things are not pretty. While the outside is meant to be seen, and is nice to look at, the inside may be another story entirely. As was the case with my life, and who I thought I was...
So after a year of staring at the bloody viscera of what my life was supposed to be, and what it 'should have' looked like, I have finally reached the point where I feel that who I truly am, and what my viscera looks like, is me. Me, ME, Val, the real one. Not someone else's representation of who Val should be, but Val. Period. I like this Val. This Val is comfortable in her own skin, and not "Ms. Perfect" all the time. I have come to the realization that as scary and as shitty as life can be, it is GREAT! But, it can only be great if you allow it to be, and IF YOU LIVE IT!
I spent a long time making and wearing my mask of independence. I wore it well...and damn it was a nice looking mask, only problem was: life isn't supposed to be a masquerade ball. Who knew?! I spent tons of energy on that mask, only to find it would better serve me and the people in my life if I cast it asunder. So upon removing my mask I was faced with yet more questions...Who am I? What do I want? Who do I really want to be? Where do I want this life to take me? And so on...
So here goes the start to the answering...
What do I REALLY want in life...no masks...just truth.
In this life I want the simple things really. I want to share my life, and make an amazing journey with a great man. A man who I can trust with my whole heart. A man who I can trust enough to fall for, and know that he will catch me. That he will catch me in his arms, and that when I fall his strength won't waiver...he will stand strong, holding the woman he loves. The man that is my companion...my partner in crime.
I want to be able to be the woman he needs. The one who takes care of him. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. I want to meet his every need. To make my man know he is well taken care of, in any and every area he can think up. And I want him to do the same for me. I want to be Susie Homemaker, and have dinner ready when he comes home...I want to be the vixen who is standing in the kitchen with only an apron on. I want to meet him at the front door and attack him. I want to send him dirty little notes in his lunch everyday. Or panties in his coat pocket. I want to wake up every morning in his arms, and know how much he loves me, and how much I love him, without saying one word.
For so long I have talked about the life of adventure and going "balls to the wall" and taking this world for everything it has. And I want that, oh man do I want that. But I want someone to share it with. To build a life of memories with. Friends are great to make memories with, but making a life with someone is what I truly long for.
There is adventure to be found all over the world. Riding a bull, participating in the Tomatina, hiking the Great Wall of China, scuba diving, parasailing, sailing around the world, shooting a 50 cal, and all the other crazy ass things on my list of to dos. But while it may sound simple as hell, I think true adventure is found in living life. In finding the love of my life and marrying him, living life together...figuring out how to do life together. Raising kids, going to work every day, and falling asleep in eachother's arms every night. Just living, and making memories. That is the adventure I want. The adrenaline rush I have truly been looking for...
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