131. That’s how many pieces I have written and that are waiting to be posted, but I just can’t find the heart to share. Most of my writing is really pretty simple. I write about dating when a friend comes and asks for advice, because I love giving it and trying to help other people feel confident and secure in the dating world. I write about POTS when I am having a particularly bad — or sometimes good — day, and I write about the way other people treat me with this problem that is so misunderstood. Then, I have a couple deeper posts that I am just waiting to work up the guts to publish.
Part of the problem is going back and editing through everything. Several of my entries have general ideas and thoughts in them, but aren’t completed. They are skeletons of blog posts, and need some meat on their bones to help them make sense and tell a story. Others just feel hollow and my heart doesn’t feel up to working on them. Two, though, pierce deep down into my heart and make it beat fast when I think about opening up. Using the words that are deep down in your soul can be scary because they expose your darkest secrets or insecurities people would never guess you are dealing with. Luckily, I don’t have that many “secrets,” as I am a pretty open book, and there isn’t a lot of darkness in my life, so I’d file my posts under “Insecurities” in the glaringly obvious ways I am different.
Today, though, I’m tired. I still don’t feel like working on my writing, and I have been so wrapped up in wedding planning and health stuff lately that I have only posted on here two times this month. I want to write and share every single detail of the little and big things that happen in my day-to-day, but I’ve also seen the dangers of speaking loudly for all to hear online. Tonight I am going to work on a post about POTS that I drafted a few weeks ago after a Taylor Swift concert. I’ll share something that can be really hard on my heart, because I think so many people with all kinds of disabilities will be able to relate. Sometimes the most meaningful thing in the world is to feel like you are actually understood — and that you aren’t alone. As much as it sucks sometimes, the Internet is really cool because you can always find someone with the exact same things you struggle with. I still think writing is something I am meant to do, so I’ll stop being selfish and start sharing again, even if I’m feeling worn out. I think today I just needed to write and feel like I am creating again, even if it’s a silly, rambly blog post.
I hate rainy days. They make my head hurt, body ache, and they are only soothing if it’s warm outside.
I love this blog, though. It’s so good for my heart and I’m always happy to share my feelings with everyone because I know I’m a super-average twentysomething who can relate to Taylor Swift just as much as the next girl. Today is a Call it What You Wantkind of day — partly because it’s her newest song, and partly because I have been feeling particularly brave about writing lately. It will take a little bit of time to share some of the things I’ve been working on lately because the gnarly pain in my arms seems to have come back for a sudden vengeance, however I am trying my hardest to use the dictation software that frustrates me to no end.
One of my favorite quotes of all time is by Hemmingway,
“There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
As an ENFP this is a really easy task for me. I don’t have the best memory when it comes to numbers, dates, or names, but if you ask me how I felt at any given event I can recall it in such vivid detail. If I think about the day Robert left to go overseas enough, my heart will hurt and remember the empty ache that took resudence in my body while he was gone. I remember small details from birthdays and how I felt on each of them, how much joy I felt running around New York City with my mom while I lived there and she visited me, and I can clearly recall the warmth that filled my heart when I realized I loved Robert. I can easily remember how I’ve felt in every stage of our relationship, even if I can’t recall how many dates we went on our first couple of months together.
Having strong feelings can be a nuisance sometimes, however I think they help me connect to others so much more beautifully than if I didn’t feel deeply. Even if I haven’t been in the exact same situation as another human, my heart can connect to theirs and sing the same melody until they feel less alone. And that, my friends, is the reason I want to keep being so open in this space and why I have to keep writing.
My last relationship left me with dust and rubbish. It was as if a storm came in and demolished everything beautiful I had taken so long to build. How could someone else completely ruin me like that? When did I give him that kind of power?
I spent months sitting in the middle of the wreckage. I was paralyzed from the shock of it all and couldn’t move — until I saw a little flower peeking out from the middle of the place my comfortable home used to be. I cautiously walked over to it and took note of the beauty that was before me in such a gray space.
Finally after gaining my strength and seeking help from others, we rebuilt a new, stronger foundation. I had been naive last time, failing to build walls on my home and trusting the man I loved not to destroy it. This time I put up giant concrete walls. No one would even think about trying to break them down; they were my fortress and protection. Nobody could come in, but I couldn’t get out.
Then I met someone new. He tore down my hard, concrete walls and rebuilt a home with windows so the sun could shine through.
Now there’s a garden with flowers and I can come and go as I please. He can come inside and sit with me. I notice the clouds when they’re looming outside, but more days are sunny than not. I go outside and dance in the rain, and I have realized that a life filled with love is completely worth risking another storm. I now know that I can make it through any kind of weather that comes my way and that there is always going to be beauty in my life — even if it’s just a single flower in the middle of a bunch of ruins.
This picture was taken by my beautiful friend Audrey, who also did my hair and makeup for our shoot. Check her out if you need a photographer in the DMV!
Breakups from a serious relationship are so strange.
When you’re with someone long enough, they become a part of your routine. You have little inside jokes and holiday traditions but then, in a second, all of this is gone.
Sometimes you see a plane and remember how you used to be long distance. Any time you were flying it was to see him. You sit on the playground with the kids you nanny and think about the time you talked your way out of trouble with a policeman while you were swinging late at night, and about the stargazing you did there together. You don’t usually think of him when you eat pizza, but sometimes take a moment to reminisce about the dozens of times he came over to make one together. You’d laugh as his inexperienced hands kneaded the dough while he asked if he was doing it right a million times.
It’s great being able to look back at a relationship and smile — it shows that at least some of it was real. Some of the memories are happy, but at the end of the day you realize sometimes when something is broken it isn’t meant to be fixed. It couldn’t have been fixed, and although you tried, you finally realize you’re moving on to something new. You’re finding something that will actually belong to you, instead of just something fleeting, something borrowed. He wasn’t really yours, and never will be, but you’re okay with that.
For the first time, you realize your life is going to be more than just fine. It’s going to be great — without him. This is what it is to be free.