HOPE

I am trying to figure out what would make me happy; or really, waiting for someone to come make me happy. Five days in and I see that it’s just me and the cat. What am I waiting for? I still need to figure out what I want out of this life. If we are being honest, I just want to be needed by someone else. For years, I was # 50 on the long list of friends to my Best Friend. I managed to reach her top 5, after a lot of mutual compromising. I don’t think I ever made it past spot # 5 though, and maybe that’s why I walked away. Walking away is probably the only thing I did… I have to finally let it go.

I am really good at motivationally hyping myself up. I can talk a great game. And I am still just talking. I don’t think there is anything so wrong with that anymore. I am focusing so much on who I don’t want to be anymore rather than who I am. I am really good at a lot of things. They aren’t the normal things. I can’t say I’d actually enjoy a walk along a beach unless it was a full moon and I was barefoot. Or I am not a camper/ hiker, unless I can bring all my bedding and sing made up songs about nature. I read somewhere a while ago that the people who are unhappy are they ones with high expectations. I have so many expectations; about time and demeanor. Maybe it’s time to finally let go.

My first love teased me all the time. He said that I cared too much about what others thought. I was always getting embarrassed in public… A song would come on the radio and he would just start dancing all weird in front of strangers. I was horrified. And of course, he made me dance too. I had so much fun. It was the first time I remember really enjoying my life. He really changed how I saw the world. It’s funny to think back on all the things I learned from him. Funny because I am finally my worse night mare and honestly, it’s not as scary as I thought it would be. It’s strange how your perspective can be altered when you hear the same negative words day in and day out. My mom told me I was fat almost every day of my life. He… would laugh at me. Tell me that I was silly for even thinking I could be fat. Then he made a rule, every time I said I was fat, he would moo. He did it too. I didn’t actually start getting fat until he was long gone. Now I am officially fat and really, I am glad. All those years mom and I am finally what you saw. At least I don’t care what she thinks anymore.

I didn’t understand him back then. But I think I can now. I am really set on this whole, someone to find me and to make me happy. I just don’t know how to make myself happy. I say it all the time, I do things for my friends, co-workers and family that I wouldn’t do for myself. A lot of the advice I give to others, I could use it for myself. After all these years and the many blog posts I have created and I still can’t hear my own voice. Amazing how I can be so narcissistic. That’s me. I have bad sides. The key word there is sides, as in more than one. I can’t change everything about me, because I am who I am. But I can strive to add sides to me that outweigh the negative. Rather than changing, let’s just make room for more.

Let’s face it, no one takes change with out a little heart break. I am tired of heart break. Can we get some tape over here? I am ready to move on. If I do what makes me happy, like minded people will surround me and I am sure I can find people who are there sharing moments rather than creating my moments for me. I need to create my own life. No one is creating it for me. This means, making decisions on my own, and dealing with the consequences. No more phone calls to family demanding they make the right decision for me so that I don’t ruin my life. Like a phoenix, I will rise up from the ashes and try again. Because that is what being an adult is all about.

I am still going to need my Pandora box - there is no ripping off this band aide quickly. But slowly, I think I can open that box and let the emotions settle so I can deal with them like my sister has. I have a feeling this box has been leaking anyways. I thought I created this box when a man hurt me a few years ago. But thinking about the repressed memories I have seen in the past few months…  I think I made this box a really long time ago. I am ready to deal with my past so I can have a future. I am so proud of my little sister, being a wife and a mother. Still remaining positive even though she remembers our child hood and I can barely remember what I ate, last night. I no longer want to be like her (Even if she is fabulous and yes, finally prettier than me). I want to be like me. However I am going to be. I always say that I can’t wait to use my genie wishes. I have a list. But at the end of the day, most of that list is on me. I could do it if only I would. Joie, don’t change. One day I hope you will be proud of me. Even if I have to wait ‘till my death bed to hear it, I hope to hear you say it. HOPE. 

Found this through a friend

Website for Comic

My personal Pandora's box

There hasn’t been a lack of inspiration. More like an influx… Every time I put cursor to blank document though, I can’t see anything. My eyes blur up and the keys seem miles away. Maybe it’s a message for me to go many miles away. I can’t think or put my thoughts here anymore. Some of my posts were sad, but all in all, blogging made me happy. Sharing my crazy and finding out who I was. On July 22, 2011, that all went away. I lost my world. Relapsed into old Jen. I feel like an addict who finally got their gold coin of sobriety only to use that coin to pop the top on the liquor bottle or line up the crushed substance. I have a problem. No, it’s not drugs or alcohol. I can’t say what it is, but it doesn’t make me a good person. And at the end of the day, I hate myself more than yesterday. I just miss everyone. I feel like there is a hole in my heart. Spots I am keeping warm, in case “they” come back. They aren’t coming back. They never do. I know they leave because of me. The me I am relapsing into. Will I ever see the best parts of me? I know I created this reality. That doesn’t make it better, it just better places blame. It means that I am not good at the only job I am truly obligated to…

I didn’t want to write a sad blog. I won’t fake happiness . I am what I am. I can’t be who they want me to be. I can put on a mask long enough to peek their interest, but never long enough to keep them around. Do they leave or do I push them out. I am not even sure who they are. People, forced to interact for some greater purpose. Why am I still here?

I can’t write anymore. I just wanted you to know that I am not dealing well with all the people departing my life and I feel like I am falling into a hole I dug to deep to climb out of… But as per my personality, I will just wait for my Amber to find me. Working distracted me from the pain. Not working, I think about 9 years out the window because I wanted someone to be something they are not. I will lie here and see what comes along because that’s just who I am. If I end up buried alive, at least that what the reality I created. 

I am usually so anal about my posts. It takes me hours to write them because I read and re-read them over and over before I post them. I go over them, picking them apart, trying to figure out what other people are seeing. I wrote this one in 20 minutes and I have not re-read it. I don't want to feel the pain I felt when I started typing. They say that cameras can capture a part of your soul. I hope this blog is taking my bad emotions and locking them in a box. Thats how I got over someone who really hurt me. I envisioned all the pain I felt, trapped in a little wooden box in my heart. With little brass hinges and a lock. I used to worry the box would open... Now I just hope that I can fit more things in it. This post is a little of the thoughts in my head I hope to stuff in that box. I don't want to see them or read them.