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Letting Go

21 Jun

This entry has been rolling about in my brain, asking to get out even though I don’t feel like it’s necessarily a fully formed, cohesive piece of written material. It’s just a blurb, a piece of my mind without a lot of context. Something I think about often.

Whenever I am in one of “those” heated conversations with a family member or significant other (and they don’t happen often, but they DO happen), I am frequently accused of being demanding. It’s true. I am. I hold my friends and family to very high standards.

Not that I’m some kind of control freak, unforgiving beotch. I just expect a lot out of ya’ll, because you’re amazing people.

But the thing I figured out recently, about why that statement used to get me so Fired Up and mad, is this: you think I hold you to high standard of performance? Be me for just one day. I used to be on constant criticism mode. Nothing was good enough. Fast enough. Clean enough. Perfect enough. The Critic in my head would not stop.

Thankfully, between coming out and doing some major soul-searching, the Critic and I have reached an understanding. I get that she just wants things to be okay, to be right. But it comes across as controlling at times, and she has to understand that sometimes the best thing is to let go.

Be in the moment. Accept mistakes as things that happen instead of terminal definitions of someone else’s character or capabilities. Realize that what someone else does isn’t always about me, and sometimes there’s nothing I can do about it.

Re-evaluating Relativity

27 May

Tonight I got to spend some time with my very good friend Mary Jane. She’s so much fun. Any little bit of time with her just lights up my day. Today she graduated with a teaching certificate in her field so getting to see her was extra special. Plus, watching the latest episode of Glee together definitely helped.

When I got home, I was reflecting on my time in Kansas and how much things have changed. I came here a married, brand-new first-time mom, waiting on her husband to get back from a deployment to Iraq. I am leaving (almost) divorced, a confident mom of an amazing nearly-four-year-old, new college graduate with a kick-ass degree, my own business, and recently out of the closet to everyone… and proud of it.

I mean, hello?! Monumental life changes much?

One of the things I have always embraced in my life is the knowledge that I have NO idea what the next year will bring. I can look back one year from any point in my life. And I never would have imagined what was coming next. I realize that’s a terrifying prospect for some people. Both as it relates to it happening to them, and as it relates to it happening to someone with whom they are in a committed relationship.

I get that. Really.

But it’s not me. I relish the constant reincarnation of self. The major things, like what I listed above, aren’t typical changes for me. The small tweaks of self-realization on a daily basis are the changes that drive the larger cog of my existence.

What’s amazing is seeing how far I’ve come in such a relatively short amount of time (considering the length of the average life span, and taking out of consideration the fact that I still think I’m going to die when I’m 45)… and thinking about how much more I have to see and experience.

It’s all relative to where you’ve been.

On the line of relativity, tonight I also thought about how amazing it has been to make new friends over the past few months, mostly since I’ve come out. I’m finally getting to know people as myself. The closest thing I’ve been to my true self, ever. I don’t have some subconscious lump in the back of my throat, I am more relaxed, I am so much more in the moment now.

Because I can finally just be me.

Sometimes

8 Sep

Sometimes I think I’d be better off relegating myself to a life of being single.  Oh, I’d still have intimate relationships.  But they’d be with the understanding that I’m beholden to no one, I don’t share a house with anyone, and you can take me as I am or see yourself out.

Sometimes the things I write in my head never make it to paper or blog.  They die a slow and painful death, expiring in snippets as I remember less and less of them throughout the day.  They’re like little daydreams that never survive past the world between awake and asleep.

Sometimes I question my sexuality.  I try to remember how long I’ve felt this way, and whether or not what I feel is what I really feel or just what I think I should feel.  And the older I get, the more lesbian-oriented I get.  By the time I’m 50, I’ll be the biggest dyke ever.  I’ll be the aunt at the family reunions who brings her “roommate.” My husband and I will just be really good (probably divorced) friends who happen to have a (really awesome) kid together.  Then I think about living a life without having heterosexual sex ever again, and it makes me a little sad. I guess I’m destined to a life in limbo.

“Sometimes is never quite enough,” according to Alanis Morrisette.  I couldn’t agree more.  People think I’m so demanding sometimes.  Ha.  Try living in my head.  I’m uber-demanding of myself every second of every day.  I guess I never got over the “if you’re flawless, then you’ll win my love” mindset that was so ingrained in me.

Sometimes I look at my blood relatives and I wonder how on earth it is I came from the same tidal basin of the gene pool. Maybe I’m adopted.  There are days when I don’t want to speak to my family again, unless I can tell them exactly what I think and how I feel for once without being called selfish for doing so.  I frequently can’t believe I made it out of my home/hometown/home state with my sanity in tact. Clearly, they did not.

Sometimes I wish I could be oblivious.  Stupid, even. What must it be like to live a life of contentment, of never wanting more? To just not know any better?  To never question, to just fall in to line and be happy with the status quo.

Sometimes I think about what it would be like to just be dead. I don’t mean that in a “Oh, look at me, my life sucks, someone hear my cries for help,” kind of way.  I just mean it in a very factual sense.  I think about how peaceful and quiet death is going to be, and I sorta look forward to it.  Then I feel like a major asshole for thinking things like that when I have so many amazing people and opportunities in my life.