Stream of Consciousness

Monday, July 5, 2010
7:39 PM  Happy 5th of July!

I wrote the below blog post last night, but then I didn't post it because I thought it was kind of personal and would probably read like the rantings and ramblings of a crazy woman. 

But now I'm posting it anyway.

Cheers!
T


Sunday, July 4, 2010
11:26 PM

I’m sick. Not like hungover-sick. Like sore-throat-runny-nose-body-aches-kind-of-sick. And I’ve been in bed all day, resting (i.e. watching ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ and crying into bits of toilet paper). And it’s okay. It’s okay that I’m sick on the 4th of July, and I’ve been in bed crying and wiping away tears and my runny nose all day because I’ve had a revelation.

Now, I don’t know if it was the ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ or the lying in bed with nothing to do all day or the meds or the tequila I had last night (okay, maybe I am a little hungover-sick), but suddenly I have a very clear picture of what I can and cannot control.

This revelation is multi-layered, so bear with me. I think because my life was so out of control from March to the beginning of June because of work, I got used to feeling like I couldn’t control anything. So I just kind of gave up. Which in itself can seem kind of freeing because when you don’t have control over anything, you can’t be responsible for anything either. You can’t be mad or disappointed with yourself, really, because nothing is your fault – it’s all out of your control.

I’m still piecing this all together in my head, but it’s like this: I’m a talker. Or I was a talker. I always say I’m going to do things - that I know what I want. I make lists of all the things I need to do, and I vow that, eventually, I will do them. But saying you’re going to do something or be some way is very different from actually doing it or being that way. Which may seem like common sense, but that very basic lesson slipped away from me.

I kind of hate that the best example I can think of to explain all of this involves an ex-boyfriend, but it’s all I’ve got, so here it is: For a long time I wanted to get over this guy, and I just couldn’t do it. I told myself and everyone that I wanted to be over it, and I would get so frustrated with myself because, no matter what, for the longest time, I just wasn’t over it. And eventually I got to the point where I said to myself, “Okay, you’re not over it. I don’t know why, but you’re not ready to be over it. And when you truly want to be over it you will be.” And I was right. Because when I truly wanted to be over it with every fiber of my being, I was ready. And then I was over it. Just like that.

It sounds simple, but you can say you want something, and it can make perfect sense to want that thing, but saying you want it and actually wanting it are different. And it’s frustrating because, using the example from above, of course I should have wanted to be over the guy. Who wants to be hurting and hung up on a guy for years? But there was a part of me, the part that doesn’t listen to reason, that wasn’t ready to let it go until it was ready to let it go. You know?

And this applies to, well, everything, but I’m going to use another guy-related example. Because a few days ago I was on the phone with my mom, whining about guys (part of the revelation involves NOT complaining, by the way), and I said something like, “I want to be with the guy who thinks I’m so incredible that he gets over all his issues and insecurities to be with me because he just can’t not be with me.” And my mom, in her infinite wisdom, told me I already had that guy. In fact, I was dating him just a couple months ago, and I didn’t want him. And I got annoyed with her because, well, that was different. He was too into me. I needed more space than that. And my mom said, “Then you don’t want the thing that you say you want.”

And she was right.

Because I had that guy and I didn’t want him. And it makes complete sense to want to be in love. To want to be with the guy who’ll drop everything for you. But I don’t want that, and I’m not sure why. But the beauty of it is… that’s okay! I was thinking, at first, that it means there’s something wrong with me that I don’t want that. But I don’t think there is. I think maybe I’m just not ready to want that. Maybe I’m too immature. Or maybe it’s been so long since I’ve been in a relationship that I don’t know how to be in one. Or maybe because the only serious relationship I’ve ever had was so painful and twisty and well, heart-breaking in the end, that I don’t know if I want to open myself up to that again.

But I will, eventually, probably. When I really want to be ready, I will be. It’s that simple.

And it all applies to the rest of my life too. I talk about how much I hate my apartment, but do I do anything to make it better? No. And that’s something I have some control over. I mean, if it was suddenly spotless would the roaches disappear? Probably not. But I could make it better. I think I’m ready to make it better. And why didn’t I want to make it better sooner? Maybe I like to complain. Or I like the drama of talking about my tiny, roach-infested apartment. Which is kind of awful, and I hope that’s not why because nobody wants to be that girl who likes to suffer, but for whatever reason I wasn’t ready before, and now I am.

Maybe I think if I’m totally happy I won’t have anything to talk about.

Whoa.

I just blew my mind a little bit.

Again, that’s weird and a little sad and I hope that’s not what’s been holding me back, but if it is, I have control over that.

I’d rather just be happy than talk about the reasons I’m not.

Love,
Tara