Enough with That

A few songs to set the tone of this post: Disappointment by the Cranberries and Fallen by Sarah McLachlan.

I put really high expectations on getting a new apartment. I know it’s only been a few days, but I really believed that when I had all my things back, that somehow I would find myself again, as if my life had been in that Garden Grove storage for three years in a box next to my couch. The highlight of the entire experience is hands down my bed. I hadn’t slept in a good bed consistently for over three years. My bed has a pillow top and it is beyond wonderful. I’m sleeping well and I feel so much better. But, I haven’t returned. Maybe it’s a slower process than I thought. Really, I just felt a lot of anxiety because I own so much stuff. After more than three years of temporary living, I’d gotten used to not possessing a lot of things, and used to being able to get my possessions into a few suitcases or my car. I just want to get rid of half the stuff. I don’t need decorative items or two sets of dishes. I don’t need 10 mugs. I don’t need DVD or CD cases. All these possessions suddenly feel like a burden. So, I’m slowly going through everything and just throwing things away or putting them in the donation box.

My job at work is changing, which is another great disappointment to me. I don’t feel like giving many details, and I don’t have many anyways. But, I was really loving my job at work and with a new position, I’m not sure that I will love it anymore. I also feel like it’s something personal, and that something other than what I’ve been told is the motivating factor behind the move. I’m going to do what I always do, which is put my head down and keep going, but this time I kind of feel like I need to shine. There’s a part of me that feels like they doubt what I am capable of, and it’s been too long since someone tried to pull that shit with me and I stood up to them. At least the fighter in me has returned.

I think a lot about my divorce, and it seems to dominate a lot of conversations that I have. I’m pretty sure I’m mostly disappointed in myself, for making such a big mistake. So other disappointments, which might otherwise be taken in stride, scrape a deeper wound. I’m just so tired of feeling this way. I’m tired of thinking about it and I want it to be something in my past. But everyday I get up and I feel whatever it is I’m feeling. Disappointment and shame reign high on that list. I’d say hungover comes in third. I just have trouble getting over the fact that I made such a big mistake, which had such long-lasting consequences. It could be worse, but that doesn’t make me feel better. At least I didn’t have kids, is what everyone tells me and I think, I probably will never have them, so that’s not much of a consolation. I’m not the only person who has been divorced, but I am the only person who has to live inside my head and think what I think, feel what I feel. I don’t trust myself to make a good decision and I know that if I’m hardest on myself, no one else can be.

I’m also disappointed that I don’t think Susanna is ever really going to come back. I imagine at some point I will eventually feel like I’m a better version of myself moreso than I have ever been. I keep thinking that G-d has taken a very roundabout way to teach me a lesson and to shape me. At the beginning of the day and the end of the night, I’ve got the word gratitude on my lips. I may be disappointed in many things, but I am grateful for far more. Also, I don’t want to be a constant Debbie Downer so while others look at me and think, “The girl is back! She’s good! She’s in the right place!” – I just try not to disappoint them.

All that being said, I’m not going to lower my expectations and I’m not giving up. I’m regrouping, refocusing and getting back to what I want and need. But, bearing one’s happy soul isn’t that much of a challenge, nor do I find it particularly cathartic. So forgive me my melancholic lamentations, but understand that if this is your only route of access to me, you’re missing quite the jovial being and know that I absolutely exist in a duality of forms, which is ok with me. I’m deep! I’m thoughtful! I watch documentaries and speak intelligently on them! I laugh when people fart! I hate smug people, but I love being smug! I will drive out of my way to get a good tri-tip sandwich! I’ll skip dessert in favor of another glass of wine! I love and respect my parents and in that I realize I’m one of the luckier beings on earth! There’s just so much to a person that can’t be described, that can only be experienced and I would just hate for anyone to read my blog and think this is all there is to me. I don’t walk around moping all day, but if I don’t get this out, I’ll implode, so I write about how I feel and I do so unapologetically.

And now the song for the rest of the day: Matthew Wilder – Break my Stride because really at the end of every day, sometimes I feel like each step is an effort and sometimes I feel like I am running so fast, nothing can stop me, because ultimately this is the life I want, for now. Tomorrow will be something different and I’ll worry about that when I get there. I just owe it to myself to stop finding reasons to disappoint myself.

Advertisements

Nothing But the Truth

I’m sensitive. I want people to like me and think I’m funny. Revision: I want the people who I care about to like me and think I’m funny, to respect me and need me in their lives. Sometimes I confuse what I want and disillusion myself into believing that I want all people to like and respect me. While that would be nice, it’s not reasonable or feasible because there are a lot of idiots out there, as well as people who will never genuinely gel with me, and people who are so unhappy with their own lives, they can’t look past them to see value in anyone else. At 30, I can accept that. It has taken this many years to figure it out though.

Before I left my hometown, the problem of oversensitivity paled in comparison to others I faced, namely: not being taken seriously as a young female professional, not trusting myself to make choices about my future, not trusting myself to be good at what I do and accepting that I’m good at it. But now, I’m not surrounded or buoyed by my hometown cocoon. I often fight feelings of loneliness, because although I have friends here in Southern California, many of my closest friends are an hour south. Nobody is genuinely far away because I can always pick up the phone, but I miss being a part of something bigger than me, which has defined me in ways I am always surprised by. On my last visit home, I was able to perform for most of my friends and my parents, all who had previously not seen my stand-up. It’s great to do your hometown, because people are going to love you simply because they know you. It’s not a hard and fast rule, but it generally applies.

The laughs were huge. I felt great. One friend told me, “Your material, demeanor, and vibe on stage is headliner stuff all the way.” Another friend recently told me, “Thanks for not only not sucking, but being by far the best of night. Massive relief washes over me. You’re fucking great.” (Mom, Dad…I’m aware that I posted the word fucking. I think we’re going to have to get past the fact that I may be using foul language because this is a part of the business I’m trying to get into. I promise I will always try to be as lady like as possible within that realm, will always do my best to do right by others, will stay humble, will be grateful and will pay forward whatever kindnesses have been bestowed upon me. That being said, you don’t always have to like what I do, and you don’t have to watch/read everything. I’ll do my best to make you proud and know that I will forever be a grateful, loved, loving, faithful and proud child)

Even though everything looks great on the outside (new job, great hair, smiling face, new apartment, comedic successes albeit small ones), the inside isn’t always great. I get sad. Really, though, moreso than sad, I feel like I’m in a state of melancholy. I stay there for a few days and something happens or nothing at all, and the fog lifts and I feel good again. I think this is part of the grieving, and part of the moving on. But, sometimes, I just feel so terribly lonely. Even though I know I am not the only person who feels this way, and even though I know I’m not really alone.

At those times when I am lonely, I remember a few things: life is a thousand times better than it was and it keeps getting better, I’m working towards goals and I’ve been appreciating the ones I’ve set, and  most importantly, I need to enjoy this moment. I’ve started doing something which might is helping me with my sensitivity. In those moments when I feel really good, like right after a great set, I try to latch onto that feeling and revel in it, so later on when I don’t feel good about myself, when I’m lonely, when I’m sad, I recall those moments, and I slip it on like a mental Snuggie and try to settle into it. When I re-open my eyes, I don’t feel so bad. I hope this is a good thing, but I worry that all I’m doing is breaking my sorrow into little parts and moving it around my life. Those little parts will inevitably resurface, most likely at a time I am not prepared for.

I do not want to be the type of person who worries constantly, and I am not. But, I take things too hard, when I don’t need to. I have to remember that every single thing that happens TO me is not a reflection OF me. I also know I am not the only person who feels this way. I just miss that part of me who really liked myself, no matter what. I hope she isn’t gone forever.

Heart V. Brain

You can tell yourself to let something go. You can scream and scream about it. But the heart will do whatever it wants. It laughs derisively at the brain and his logic. The heart doesn’t care. It will beat for whomever and whatever she desires. 

The heart will look back fondly while the brain keeps trying to turn her face forward, toward what could be, not toward what was. The heart looks into the sky at what could never be and the brain keeps trying to take the heart’s attention away from silly fantasies.

Silly fantasies are fine and fun, until they keep you from reality, until they cause you pain.

The heart loves him, could love him forever and ever. The heart feels connected to him. The heart wants to become one with his heart. The brain knows it would never last. The brain knows he will never love you the way you want to be loved. The brain knows you are not good for each other.

So what are you to do, really? Wrap it all up and dump it down a well until one day it bubbles to the surface, exploding with tension, pain and misery? Or do you survive it, feeling the rejection, the ache and the melancholy of what could be, but never will?