okay, so lately i've been thinking a lot about love.
(haven't we all.)
not my own love but just the concept of love. you know, from an anthropological standpoint, the idea of love and how it occurs in people.
i did a lot of 'couple stalking' (which is like people watching, but weirder) this weekend in the city. i saw people who i would think would be... 'over' or 'above' love, being in love!
i watched two gangster-thugs make small chat while holding their women's purses and pretending to care whether or not "this dress shows too much ass."
i watched a tatted, gadged biker man tenderly kiss his girl when they met for brunch, and listen and chime in on stories about her day. (why is it so hard to find people who chime in on things? i'm not talking to you for my HEALTH here, is how i feel about it.)
and it just makes me wonder how people find themselves susceptible to such a fickle emotion.
and what's more, how do people go about it so cavalierly?!
in order to be in love, i feel like conditions have to be just right. both people have to be receptive to affection, open to trust and commitment, dedicated to respectful communication, etc etc etc. which, one would think is just the rarest thing for two compatible souls in the right place for love to find each other.
i've only been in love once. like real, true, head over heels, do anything for you, perfect for each other, i can tell you anything love. just once. and now we're not in love and he's actually in love with and engaged to someone else, which i find to be perfectly okay, but i mean.
some people fall in love a dozen times by age 21.
and i just want to know HOW?
anyway, if there's one thing i learned while couple-stalking and shopping around it's that the only thing i want for in life is a flattering, comfortable, long-er-ish chambray dress. is that so hard to ask??
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
this is a long story about stupid teenaged, angst-y love. enjoy.
american heritage, first semester, freshman year.
while there were more than 400 people in my section, there were maybe 22 people in my weekly lab. i honestly had no interest in getting to know any of them.
my campus routine was always the same.
pull on my shoes, shrug on my backpack, put in my headphones.
walk to class.
if i arrived more than 7 minutes early, i would go to the bathroom or peruse the vending machine until it was appropriately early to go to class.
swing off my backpack, slouch into my desk and wait until class began to wrap up my headphones.
silence for the duration of the class.
bell ring, headphones in, backpack on, out the door.
most of the people in my lab had a similar routine. not many people participated. only two or three students answered questions on a regular basis, and it was generally more out of wanting uncomfortable silences to end and less about having a genuine desire to contribute to the 'discussion.'
once, the grad student who taught our lab asked if anyone could describe the difference between a flat and a progressive tax. silence. i thought of the debate i'd had with a group of guys the night before on the very subject, and as time and silence dragged on, i reluctantly raised my hand.
at the same time, one of the regular-participants also raised his hand, and our instructor sighed and called on him. as i put my hand down, the grad student noticed my movement and cut-off the fellow student with an almost urgent tone.
"michal! did you have your hand raised?!"
"....yes...?"
"oh! please! go ahead! sorry!"
and then i went on to give a very eloquent and riveting answer, i'm sure.
anyway, about a month after the semester ended, i met that very fellow student whose answer i'd stolen.
and a few months after that, i fell in love with him.
it wasn't like weird high school "i love you" after three weeks kind of love. i didn't even actually think it was love at all.
it was like... i never had the urge to touch him. granted, i'm fairly well-known for my aversion to human touch, but still... usually when i'd had interest in a boy, i'd had serious interest in touching them. hand-holding, at the very least. but never with this kid.
i just wanted to be around him all the time. he was smart and interesting and adorably awkward. never-kissed-a-girl-and-probably-wouldn't-be-interested type of awkward and i thought it was all just incredibly charming.
and, because i was kind of intense and overbearing at the sweet age of 19 and he was kind of terrified of women, he freaked out and stopped talking to me so i made out with his room mate who was actually dating my room mate and it was this big stupid mess that kind of ruined my otherwise wonderful freshman experience, which probably isn't the ending you were looking for, but my point is---
for 4 months, i sat next to someone who i still, to this day, wonder about. it's been 4 years, and sometimes i'm still like... what if things had gone differently? you know?
and for those 4 months, i didn't know his name or even look at his face.
and that, my friends, is just the most hilarious case of love-life foreshadowing you could probably find on this earth.
while there were more than 400 people in my section, there were maybe 22 people in my weekly lab. i honestly had no interest in getting to know any of them.
my campus routine was always the same.
pull on my shoes, shrug on my backpack, put in my headphones.
walk to class.
if i arrived more than 7 minutes early, i would go to the bathroom or peruse the vending machine until it was appropriately early to go to class.
swing off my backpack, slouch into my desk and wait until class began to wrap up my headphones.
silence for the duration of the class.
bell ring, headphones in, backpack on, out the door.
most of the people in my lab had a similar routine. not many people participated. only two or three students answered questions on a regular basis, and it was generally more out of wanting uncomfortable silences to end and less about having a genuine desire to contribute to the 'discussion.'
once, the grad student who taught our lab asked if anyone could describe the difference between a flat and a progressive tax. silence. i thought of the debate i'd had with a group of guys the night before on the very subject, and as time and silence dragged on, i reluctantly raised my hand.
at the same time, one of the regular-participants also raised his hand, and our instructor sighed and called on him. as i put my hand down, the grad student noticed my movement and cut-off the fellow student with an almost urgent tone.
"michal! did you have your hand raised?!"
"....yes...?"
"oh! please! go ahead! sorry!"
and then i went on to give a very eloquent and riveting answer, i'm sure.
anyway, about a month after the semester ended, i met that very fellow student whose answer i'd stolen.
and a few months after that, i fell in love with him.
it wasn't like weird high school "i love you" after three weeks kind of love. i didn't even actually think it was love at all.
it was like... i never had the urge to touch him. granted, i'm fairly well-known for my aversion to human touch, but still... usually when i'd had interest in a boy, i'd had serious interest in touching them. hand-holding, at the very least. but never with this kid.
i just wanted to be around him all the time. he was smart and interesting and adorably awkward. never-kissed-a-girl-and-probably-wouldn't-be-interested type of awkward and i thought it was all just incredibly charming.
and, because i was kind of intense and overbearing at the sweet age of 19 and he was kind of terrified of women, he freaked out and stopped talking to me so i made out with his room mate who was actually dating my room mate and it was this big stupid mess that kind of ruined my otherwise wonderful freshman experience, which probably isn't the ending you were looking for, but my point is---
for 4 months, i sat next to someone who i still, to this day, wonder about. it's been 4 years, and sometimes i'm still like... what if things had gone differently? you know?
and for those 4 months, i didn't know his name or even look at his face.
and that, my friends, is just the most hilarious case of love-life foreshadowing you could probably find on this earth.
did you know that the voice of Mickey Mouse and the voice of Minnie Mouse got married in real life?
and the honest truth of it is that i've never not been late for anything, ever.
and i have mega OCD. like, leave the shower curtain closed, put the bar stools in the right order, make sure the coffee table is exactly 4.5 inches from the end of the area rug type of OCD.
and i'm particular with friendships. like, give me one reason to think maybe you and i will not be best friends for ever and ever and that's it, i'm gone, ship's sailed---you get it.
i think i'm an easy person to love, but i'm a hard person to keep loving.
which is my own fault, or maybe my own choice, but did you know that otters hold hands while they're sleeping to keep from floating away from each other?
so... i guess what i'm trying to say is that i'm working on it.
and the honest truth of it is that i've never not been late for anything, ever.
and i have mega OCD. like, leave the shower curtain closed, put the bar stools in the right order, make sure the coffee table is exactly 4.5 inches from the end of the area rug type of OCD.
and i'm particular with friendships. like, give me one reason to think maybe you and i will not be best friends for ever and ever and that's it, i'm gone, ship's sailed---you get it.
i think i'm an easy person to love, but i'm a hard person to keep loving.
which is my own fault, or maybe my own choice, but did you know that otters hold hands while they're sleeping to keep from floating away from each other?
so... i guess what i'm trying to say is that i'm working on it.
two whole tears.
two whole tears is all i could muster. alone, in a tanning bed. two whole tears.
that's how exhausted i am of all this. i could only muster two whole tears.
it was like this, all over again.
it was like this, all over again.
last night, i was surrounded by... prospects. kind eyes, full beards, infectious laughs.
and you know what i thought?
"god, i hope they're not interested in return. i'm too tired."
"god, i hope they're not interested in return. i'm too tired."
because really. i'm just too damn tired.
"I'm scared that as soon as we leave this bed..."
I stared at his pillow, avoiding his searching eyes.
"That it will be over," he finished.
I lifted my head slowly, eyes still locked in place. Then I closed them, and breathed.
"Well, what are you doing tonight? We could see a movie, or maybe grab some dinner?"
Eyes still closed, I smiled.
"Why don't you come up with a plan, and let me know what it is. Then we'll see how I'm feeling."
I looked at him, and made a face. The mood shifted, and he smiled, reaching for me. I burrowed my head into the crook of his arm, and he pulled me forward, turning me away from him and pulling me close.
His favorite thing to say was always "I feel safe with you." He would say it during serious talks, during intimate moments. It seemed like a strange thing to say. I'm dangerous. Wreckless. Unpredictable.
He knew it, too. In moments of disconnect, of selfishness, he would tell me he didn't trust me. I was a risk, I was frightening. Dangerous, wreckless, unpredictable.
Laying there, feeling his chest rise and fall, his voice ran through my head. I feel safe with you. And suddenly I felt my chest tighten, my heart sink, my stomach ache. This small place--my body against his, warm in my bed, in our tiny corner of the world--was the most dangerous place of all.
I knew then and there that it was over. We hadn't even left the bed.
"I have to go to work," I said.
We untangled ourselves and stretched. I rose, and walked to the closet. I heard him stand and walk over to get his things together while I pulled on some shoes.
I walked out into the hall and made a sarcastic complaint, and he heckled me as he shut the door behind us. I turned to him and playfully jabbed his sides. He grabbed my hands and we both laughed. He leaned down and placed a simple kiss on my still-smiling lips.
We seemed normal. Hopeful.
"Too bad I have to work, or I'd take you to a 'Sorry-you-lost-your-job-breakfast,'" I said, turning to him as I reached my car.
"You could take me to a 'Sorry-you-lost-your-job-lunch?" he suggested. "It's not like I have anything to do today."
I smiled.
"We'll see how I feel about you by lunchtime," I said. "I'll probably hate you by then."
He made a face, and opened his car door.
"Have a good day!" I called.
"Bye," he said, in a Southern accent. Neither of us knew why we always parted that way.
"Bye," I mimicked, and pulled my door shut. Starting my car, I looked back at him as he climbed into his car and smiled back at me, waving.
As I pulled away, the panic I had felt that morning settled in again. I knew, watching his brake lights illuminate in my rear-view mirror, that I would never see him again.
I stared at his pillow, avoiding his searching eyes.
"That it will be over," he finished.
I lifted my head slowly, eyes still locked in place. Then I closed them, and breathed.
"Well, what are you doing tonight? We could see a movie, or maybe grab some dinner?"
Eyes still closed, I smiled.
"Why don't you come up with a plan, and let me know what it is. Then we'll see how I'm feeling."
I looked at him, and made a face. The mood shifted, and he smiled, reaching for me. I burrowed my head into the crook of his arm, and he pulled me forward, turning me away from him and pulling me close.
His favorite thing to say was always "I feel safe with you." He would say it during serious talks, during intimate moments. It seemed like a strange thing to say. I'm dangerous. Wreckless. Unpredictable.
He knew it, too. In moments of disconnect, of selfishness, he would tell me he didn't trust me. I was a risk, I was frightening. Dangerous, wreckless, unpredictable.
Laying there, feeling his chest rise and fall, his voice ran through my head. I feel safe with you. And suddenly I felt my chest tighten, my heart sink, my stomach ache. This small place--my body against his, warm in my bed, in our tiny corner of the world--was the most dangerous place of all.
I knew then and there that it was over. We hadn't even left the bed.
"I have to go to work," I said.
We untangled ourselves and stretched. I rose, and walked to the closet. I heard him stand and walk over to get his things together while I pulled on some shoes.
I walked out into the hall and made a sarcastic complaint, and he heckled me as he shut the door behind us. I turned to him and playfully jabbed his sides. He grabbed my hands and we both laughed. He leaned down and placed a simple kiss on my still-smiling lips.
We seemed normal. Hopeful.
"Too bad I have to work, or I'd take you to a 'Sorry-you-lost-your-job-breakfast,'" I said, turning to him as I reached my car.
"You could take me to a 'Sorry-you-lost-your-job-lunch?" he suggested. "It's not like I have anything to do today."
I smiled.
"We'll see how I feel about you by lunchtime," I said. "I'll probably hate you by then."
He made a face, and opened his car door.
"Have a good day!" I called.
"Bye," he said, in a Southern accent. Neither of us knew why we always parted that way.
"Bye," I mimicked, and pulled my door shut. Starting my car, I looked back at him as he climbed into his car and smiled back at me, waving.
As I pulled away, the panic I had felt that morning settled in again. I knew, watching his brake lights illuminate in my rear-view mirror, that I would never see him again.
sometimes, he says things to me that make my heart skip a beat.
a small stutter in the otherwise constant rhythm.
and for one small moment, that tiny moment when my heart is stammering, that's where i'm most vulnerable. the walls around my soul are momentarily weakened, and i'm penetrated, changed.
it's those tiny moments of vulnerability that are overriding days upon weeks of logical thinking.
everyone asks me "why? why him?"
and i just say "I KNOW, okay? I know. I don't know why."
but it's because, sometimes, he makes my heart skip a beat.
and when my heart is fluttering, unable to maintain the wall, he settles himself in just a little deeper.
that's why.
but i realized something today.
he makes my heart skip. but then it resumes its rhythm, the walls go back up.
my heart doesn't want him in there. it's doing its best to push him out.
it's not going to be the person that makes my heart skip a beat that i'll spend my life with.
it will be the person who makes my heart stop.
a small stutter in the otherwise constant rhythm.
and for one small moment, that tiny moment when my heart is stammering, that's where i'm most vulnerable. the walls around my soul are momentarily weakened, and i'm penetrated, changed.
it's those tiny moments of vulnerability that are overriding days upon weeks of logical thinking.
everyone asks me "why? why him?"
and i just say "I KNOW, okay? I know. I don't know why."
but it's because, sometimes, he makes my heart skip a beat.
and when my heart is fluttering, unable to maintain the wall, he settles himself in just a little deeper.
that's why.
but i realized something today.
he makes my heart skip. but then it resumes its rhythm, the walls go back up.
my heart doesn't want him in there. it's doing its best to push him out.
it's not going to be the person that makes my heart skip a beat that i'll spend my life with.
it will be the person who makes my heart stop.
i have a secret.
this one, tiny secret that i've kept from him.
it's the only thing keeping me in control.
because, on the surface, he owns me.
i'll do anything for him. go anywhere he asks. say anything he wants to hear.
but this one secret, this one tiny secret, that i know i'll never tell him...
this one secret is what's keeping me sane.
this one, tiny secret that i've kept from him.
it's the only thing keeping me in control.
because, on the surface, he owns me.
i'll do anything for him. go anywhere he asks. say anything he wants to hear.
but this one secret, this one tiny secret, that i know i'll never tell him...
this one secret is what's keeping me sane.
thanks to the 7 people that read my blog today, because i have 4,444 pageviews right now, and that's something to celebrate
i remember the first time that i met him, the boy of my affections as of late.
let me tell you, i did not like him.
and then, we started talking more. lunch breaks and the like.
did not like him.
hanging out and smooching up a storm.
really did not like him.
then along came the ex-boy of my affections to rock my world and all that i knew to be true.
so i kept the boy i did not like around. as a buffer between me and the ex.
then we started going on real-life dates and having real-life talks. guys, i shaved his back.
still... didn't like him.
and then, one day, i found out that he was dating someone else. (why does this keep happening, i mean really! a girl can only handle so much infidelity!)
and then, i liked him. nay, loved him! i wanted him around me every second, to have and to hold and to make children with! heaven help me, CHILDREN!
and now i feel like i'm in some fight for my life for the man that i love, the father of my children, and my question to you is--
do i only want him because he isn't mine?
i wonder.
let me tell you, i did not like him.
and then, we started talking more. lunch breaks and the like.
did not like him.
hanging out and smooching up a storm.
really did not like him.
then along came the ex-boy of my affections to rock my world and all that i knew to be true.
so i kept the boy i did not like around. as a buffer between me and the ex.
then we started going on real-life dates and having real-life talks. guys, i shaved his back.
still... didn't like him.
and then, one day, i found out that he was dating someone else. (why does this keep happening, i mean really! a girl can only handle so much infidelity!)
and then, i liked him. nay, loved him! i wanted him around me every second, to have and to hold and to make children with! heaven help me, CHILDREN!
and now i feel like i'm in some fight for my life for the man that i love, the father of my children, and my question to you is--
do i only want him because he isn't mine?
i wonder.
i decided that i've been acting sad because i think i'm supposed to be sad.
and i'm kind of a weird and depressing person that holds on to reasons to be sad for far too long, because i think i should.
but the truth is that... i'm not sad. i'm not! say what you will, but i'm not all that sad.
so i'm just going to be happy, i guess.
i mean, frown lines are no joke.
and i'm kind of a weird and depressing person that holds on to reasons to be sad for far too long, because i think i should.
but the truth is that... i'm not sad. i'm not! say what you will, but i'm not all that sad.
so i'm just going to be happy, i guess.
i mean, frown lines are no joke.
relationships are only as hard as you make them
i take things personally.
i'd like to say that i don't, but i do. i've accepted it. moving on.
for a few weird months, i dated a guy who made jokes at my expense. not "har har you're an idiot" jokes, but jokes that made me feel worthless, ugly, and unimportant.
and he would tell me "you have got to stop taking everything so personally."
and i would think you have got to stop being an ass hole.
so we sat, stagnant, in this constant struggle between who was being normal and who was actually flawed.
it felt like...we were puzzle pieces. and it looked like we would fit and sometimes it felt like we would fit. but when it got down to it, we were grinding at each others corners, trying to alter the others shape to fit our own.
who really needed to be reshaped? who really needed to change?
i realize now that it was both of us, a little bit. but mostly neither of us. he is the way he is, i am the way i am. we have personality traits that are... extreme, in some ways, but they aren't bad. neither of us were broken, neither of us were wrong. we were just wrong for each other.
he's going to find someone with the sanctifying quality of being tough skinned, and i'm going to find someone with a kinder sense of humor. then, no one will have to change. we'll just fit.
i mean, puzzles are only as hard as you make them.
the life i almost had; a narration of the last four years of my life
it's 4:30 am and i can't sleep.
my insomnia has, of course, led me to catching up on the lives of old friends. i've gone through all my core friend groups from the last 5-ish years of my life, just to see where i'd be if i would have just picked one group and stuck with it.
here's what i've come up with.
i started at byu just more than 4 years ago.
my first year was spent exactly right. i lived in the dorms and ate at the cannon center and went to the dances and attended church every sunday and made cookies for boys in my ward. i even tanked my first semester like every normal college student (NOT normal for byu, but listen... college is hard, beer or not, okay?)
for the first semester of my second year, i lived at home. i blamed it on the fact that one of my dearest friends from high school had a brain tumor, and i wanted to be close to her. and that was... partially true.
but if i'm being honest, like completely honest with myself, it was because the last few weeks of my first year didn't go so well socially. and it was absolutely my fault, i have no way of getting around that. i made some decisions that lost me some very strong relationships and i don't know if i'll ever really get over that.
but anyway, i never looked for an apartment or did any kind of serious thinking that involved moving back to provo. secret? i haven't been back to provo since then. i mean obviously i've been there, but i haven't moved back or even really spent significant time there that wasn't on campus. i can't explain it, something about provo gives me anxiety.
the second semester of my second year, i moved out with my best friend. we'd known each other since jr high and she had never moved out and i didn't want to go anywhere without a security blanket that came in the form of a relationship that i could probably never ruin if i tried, so we moved to orem. close enough?
and i lived this semester trying to do all the things right, but not really. we kind of socialized, we went to maybe 40% of the church that we were supposed to, and my job became more important to me than my school. and, while in the long run i think living with my best friend ultimately strengthened my relationship with her, it was kind of hard at the time. we had small fights that mostly consisted of not speaking for days, and she came back to the apartment maybe 3 nights a week, and i developed a kind of social depression that found its way into my life by way of gossip girl reruns and cadbury eggs--which were the reason my adventures in veganism ended.
--oh yeah, i tried veganism. so far, i've tried the typical provo-byu college lifestyle, the granola-y vegan "phase" college lifestyle, and the working-more-than-schooling college lifestyle.
it was at the end of my second year that my mom was checked into a hospital and then my parents were separated for some time. i could probably use more discretion in this subject, but it is what it is. my dad asked me to move home to help take care of the family. my mom was gone, my dad was a wreck, my sister just avoided being home at all costs, so i was just kind of there. pretending to hold everyone together.
it's important that i say here that i used to blame my proceeding life choices on this phase in my life. while they did play a huge role in things that were to come, i made my own choices. i had my own desires. when presented with the same opportunities that i was, under different circumstances, it's likely that i would have made the same decisions.
after my mom moved back home, i moved to my aunts house. i kind of wish that i never would have done that because it did some serious damage in a lot of my relationships, but it was a necessary step.
it was here that i met bryson.
i moved back home after a few months and started school. the day before school started, bryson and i started a little adventure that turned into a year-long relationship. that entire school year was spent in a whirlwind of mistakes. my parents were completely checked out. they spent basically the entire year in their bedroom trying to sort things out, and my sister and i got away with everything. it was during this one year of my life that i made every serious mistake i've probably ever made.
there's not really much more to say about that school year. i did worse that year than my first semester, probably because i wasn't sober for most of it. i also fell in love that year.
the summer after my third year at byu, i was completely in love with someone and i was prepared to marry him. well, i thought i was prepared to marry him. i laugh at that now, but anyway. he cheated on me, so i told him to never speak to me again, and that was that.
moving on.
my parents moved to colorado this summer, and it should be clear by now that i'm a person who was/is socially unfit for roommates, etc. so, after bouncing around from couch to couch for a few weeks, i moved in with my cousin, who owns a house and lives alone, and continued to live out of boxes. i stayed there for an entire semester, which i took off of school. i had just started a new job, ended a serious relationship, and really came into my problem with substances.
i like to think that it's my relationship with bryson that gave me a substance-abuse problem, but it was really the time after things ended that it was truly an issue. while we were together, i was still mostly just experimenting. it's afterwards that i started trying harder drugs and drinking more and slutting around like a real-life college student.
then one day, i decided to grow up. i moved out into my own apartment, BY MYSELF, and went back to school part time. i tried sobriety and church for two months, and then mike happened. well, nothing really happened, but it was just kind of the principle behind the whole situation, and also ashlee came back into the picture at the same time, so how could i not have returned to my life of narcotics?
right?
so i was back to smoking and drinking and pill popping, mostly on the weekends. or when i wanted to go jogging.
and then my sister moved in with me. (for those who have made it this far, we're in the summer after my fourth year at byu, aka a few months ago.)
my sister has many more friends than i do, and they mostly all have a substance problem, too. we thought we were so sophisticated, with wine parties on the deck and hot boxes in the bathroom, but really, i was just falling further into my habit of denial and anti-socialism. only hanging out with my sisters friends? and being that weird stoner older sister that always gets the kids high?
that was me.
and now..... well. it's only been a few weeks of sobriety for me. and it takes every last ounce of energy and focus not to fall back on old habits.
speaking of old habits, i've rekindled a friendship with bryson. we go to institute together and try to keep each other sober and it's weird. that's all i have to say because i'm trying not to think about it too much, or i'll probably get freaked out and never talk to him again. but it's been good and i'm happy so, no more thinking!
ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY!
i could have lived the provo lifestyle. i could have gone from the dorms, to liberty square, to king henry, where i'd probably still be. except i'd probably be graduated, actually. because i'm into my fifth year now. and i still have a year to go. all those semesters off... shoot.
in any case, what i'm trying to say is that... i always kind of hated the provo lifestyle. i thought it was stupid and fluffy and annoying.
and now, i just have this overwhelming feeling that i need to abandon the life i've set up for myself, the apartment that i've spent the last 10 months furnishing and establishing, and i need to get room mates. and go to church. and hike the fucking Y. and probably stop saying fuck.
except that i know i can't back track, so.. now i'm just feeling stuck. i'm feeling old and sad and overwhelmed by the lives i could have lived.
hopefully, i'll figure out what life i'm supposed to live soon, so that i can get to it. i don't want to feel this regretful hindsight feeling ever again.
if you made it to the end of this post, please leave your name and address so i can send you a thousand dollars.
my insomnia has, of course, led me to catching up on the lives of old friends. i've gone through all my core friend groups from the last 5-ish years of my life, just to see where i'd be if i would have just picked one group and stuck with it.
here's what i've come up with.
a picture from each summer of the last four years.
i started at byu just more than 4 years ago.
my first year was spent exactly right. i lived in the dorms and ate at the cannon center and went to the dances and attended church every sunday and made cookies for boys in my ward. i even tanked my first semester like every normal college student (NOT normal for byu, but listen... college is hard, beer or not, okay?)
for the first semester of my second year, i lived at home. i blamed it on the fact that one of my dearest friends from high school had a brain tumor, and i wanted to be close to her. and that was... partially true.
but if i'm being honest, like completely honest with myself, it was because the last few weeks of my first year didn't go so well socially. and it was absolutely my fault, i have no way of getting around that. i made some decisions that lost me some very strong relationships and i don't know if i'll ever really get over that.
but anyway, i never looked for an apartment or did any kind of serious thinking that involved moving back to provo. secret? i haven't been back to provo since then. i mean obviously i've been there, but i haven't moved back or even really spent significant time there that wasn't on campus. i can't explain it, something about provo gives me anxiety.
the second semester of my second year, i moved out with my best friend. we'd known each other since jr high and she had never moved out and i didn't want to go anywhere without a security blanket that came in the form of a relationship that i could probably never ruin if i tried, so we moved to orem. close enough?
and i lived this semester trying to do all the things right, but not really. we kind of socialized, we went to maybe 40% of the church that we were supposed to, and my job became more important to me than my school. and, while in the long run i think living with my best friend ultimately strengthened my relationship with her, it was kind of hard at the time. we had small fights that mostly consisted of not speaking for days, and she came back to the apartment maybe 3 nights a week, and i developed a kind of social depression that found its way into my life by way of gossip girl reruns and cadbury eggs--which were the reason my adventures in veganism ended.
--oh yeah, i tried veganism. so far, i've tried the typical provo-byu college lifestyle, the granola-y vegan "phase" college lifestyle, and the working-more-than-schooling college lifestyle.
it was at the end of my second year that my mom was checked into a hospital and then my parents were separated for some time. i could probably use more discretion in this subject, but it is what it is. my dad asked me to move home to help take care of the family. my mom was gone, my dad was a wreck, my sister just avoided being home at all costs, so i was just kind of there. pretending to hold everyone together.
it's important that i say here that i used to blame my proceeding life choices on this phase in my life. while they did play a huge role in things that were to come, i made my own choices. i had my own desires. when presented with the same opportunities that i was, under different circumstances, it's likely that i would have made the same decisions.
after my mom moved back home, i moved to my aunts house. i kind of wish that i never would have done that because it did some serious damage in a lot of my relationships, but it was a necessary step.
it was here that i met bryson.
i moved back home after a few months and started school. the day before school started, bryson and i started a little adventure that turned into a year-long relationship. that entire school year was spent in a whirlwind of mistakes. my parents were completely checked out. they spent basically the entire year in their bedroom trying to sort things out, and my sister and i got away with everything. it was during this one year of my life that i made every serious mistake i've probably ever made.
there's not really much more to say about that school year. i did worse that year than my first semester, probably because i wasn't sober for most of it. i also fell in love that year.
the summer after my third year at byu, i was completely in love with someone and i was prepared to marry him. well, i thought i was prepared to marry him. i laugh at that now, but anyway. he cheated on me, so i told him to never speak to me again, and that was that.
moving on.
my parents moved to colorado this summer, and it should be clear by now that i'm a person who was/is socially unfit for roommates, etc. so, after bouncing around from couch to couch for a few weeks, i moved in with my cousin, who owns a house and lives alone, and continued to live out of boxes. i stayed there for an entire semester, which i took off of school. i had just started a new job, ended a serious relationship, and really came into my problem with substances.
i like to think that it's my relationship with bryson that gave me a substance-abuse problem, but it was really the time after things ended that it was truly an issue. while we were together, i was still mostly just experimenting. it's afterwards that i started trying harder drugs and drinking more and slutting around like a real-life college student.
then one day, i decided to grow up. i moved out into my own apartment, BY MYSELF, and went back to school part time. i tried sobriety and church for two months, and then mike happened. well, nothing really happened, but it was just kind of the principle behind the whole situation, and also ashlee came back into the picture at the same time, so how could i not have returned to my life of narcotics?
right?
so i was back to smoking and drinking and pill popping, mostly on the weekends. or when i wanted to go jogging.
and then my sister moved in with me. (for those who have made it this far, we're in the summer after my fourth year at byu, aka a few months ago.)
my sister has many more friends than i do, and they mostly all have a substance problem, too. we thought we were so sophisticated, with wine parties on the deck and hot boxes in the bathroom, but really, i was just falling further into my habit of denial and anti-socialism. only hanging out with my sisters friends? and being that weird stoner older sister that always gets the kids high?
that was me.
and now..... well. it's only been a few weeks of sobriety for me. and it takes every last ounce of energy and focus not to fall back on old habits.
speaking of old habits, i've rekindled a friendship with bryson. we go to institute together and try to keep each other sober and it's weird. that's all i have to say because i'm trying not to think about it too much, or i'll probably get freaked out and never talk to him again. but it's been good and i'm happy so, no more thinking!
ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY!
i could have lived the provo lifestyle. i could have gone from the dorms, to liberty square, to king henry, where i'd probably still be. except i'd probably be graduated, actually. because i'm into my fifth year now. and i still have a year to go. all those semesters off... shoot.
in any case, what i'm trying to say is that... i always kind of hated the provo lifestyle. i thought it was stupid and fluffy and annoying.
and now, i just have this overwhelming feeling that i need to abandon the life i've set up for myself, the apartment that i've spent the last 10 months furnishing and establishing, and i need to get room mates. and go to church. and hike the fucking Y. and probably stop saying fuck.
except that i know i can't back track, so.. now i'm just feeling stuck. i'm feeling old and sad and overwhelmed by the lives i could have lived.
hopefully, i'll figure out what life i'm supposed to live soon, so that i can get to it. i don't want to feel this regretful hindsight feeling ever again.
if you made it to the end of this post, please leave your name and address so i can send you a thousand dollars.
stranger hands
i remember his hands the most.
so strong. rough and scarred, capable hands.
and i remember him as an extension of his hands. he was rugged, strong, big and protective. i always felt safe in his arms.
but my memory fails me.
because, seeing him now, he's not his hands.
he's not as tall, or brawny, or attractive as i remember.
he's just a boy.
it's funny how we idealize the people in our memories. we're just setting them up for failure in our minds, aren't we? we immortalize some people in our minds, hone in on those specific details that then branch out to materialize the rest of the person in our memory.
and then... they're not what we remember.
he's not what i remember. he's just a boy.
and maybe to him, i'm just a girl.
regardless, we're strangers to one another.
strangers.
waking up, for me, is like clawing my way through seven hundred layers of reality in a crazy swirling vortex of nothingness and everythingness all at once
this morning, as i was lying in bed, climbing through those last few layers of consciousness, i rolled over to my sister (sometimes we have slumber parties) and said
"girls have relationshops or relationstars. boys have relationsex and relationsnacks."
i still can't figure out what i was really getting at with that theory, but i'm sure it was profound.
"girls have relationshops or relationstars. boys have relationsex and relationsnacks."
i still can't figure out what i was really getting at with that theory, but i'm sure it was profound.
seeing into the future
I work with a 50-something year old woman who ame to work sporting a rough times hair cut.
When I asked her about it, she said
"My husband and I were swimming, and he bet me I wouldn't cut my hair, so I went inside and found the kitchen shears. I mean, he's known me for forty years... he should have known I'd do it."
...I just hope I'm like that in 30 years.
When I asked her about it, she said
"My husband and I were swimming, and he bet me I wouldn't cut my hair, so I went inside and found the kitchen shears. I mean, he's known me for forty years... he should have known I'd do it."
...I just hope I'm like that in 30 years.
the slide
*this is copied from a conversation i had with someone today. advice i was handing out because i thought she needed it, but really i needed to hear it myself.
the relationship is over.
and you don't want to love him any more.
you don't want to hate him anymore.
you just want him to not exist.
to never have existed.
just the thought of him being alive somewhere in the world makes you feel like less of a human being.
but you have to recognize that, yeah, you're not the person you were before you met him. it sucks.
all of that happened, and you're forever changed.
he's forever a part of your life, even just as a memory, a lesson, or a scar.
but you're also not the person that you were when you were with him.
that's in your past. it's not who you are.
you're a whole new person. you have new experiences, new relationships.
sometimes you want to call him. to just go back to how things were.
because even though that was a dark place, it's easy and familiar.
it's like climbing backwards up a slide.
it would be easier to just slide back down.
but you have new friends, experiences, goals, all at the top of slide helping to pull you up.
it's a fight right now. a constant, conscientious struggle.
but eventually you'll make it over the top.
i'm not there yet. but i will be.
everyday, i make it one step closer.
and one day, i'll take my last step over the edge, and walk way.
and i'll never even think about the bottom of that slide again.
the relationship is over.
and you don't want to love him any more.
you don't want to hate him anymore.
you just want him to not exist.
to never have existed.
just the thought of him being alive somewhere in the world makes you feel like less of a human being.
but you have to recognize that, yeah, you're not the person you were before you met him. it sucks.
all of that happened, and you're forever changed.
he's forever a part of your life, even just as a memory, a lesson, or a scar.
but you're also not the person that you were when you were with him.
that's in your past. it's not who you are.
you're a whole new person. you have new experiences, new relationships.
sometimes you want to call him. to just go back to how things were.
because even though that was a dark place, it's easy and familiar.
it's like climbing backwards up a slide.
it would be easier to just slide back down.
but you have new friends, experiences, goals, all at the top of slide helping to pull you up.
it's a fight right now. a constant, conscientious struggle.
but eventually you'll make it over the top.
i'm not there yet. but i will be.
everyday, i make it one step closer.
and one day, i'll take my last step over the edge, and walk way.
and i'll never even think about the bottom of that slide again.
when there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire
today, i asked my sister how she felt about some boys from her past.
and she said fine, i've moved on to bigger and better.
and i jokingly said, named?
and she laughed and said, named self-respect.
and i.... cried.
because, that's what i've been saying to myself and everyone else for the last 9 months.
you only really ever move on once you've accepted yourself and learned to love who you are, etc etc.
you've heard all this from me before.
but.... lately, i've forgotten.
i've allowed myself to worry about money instead of be proud of my independence.
to let the emptiness of my apartment inspire loneliness instead of freedom.
to constantly worry about calories and wear more makeup than is necessary and feel nauseous whenever i hear the name "shelby."
i'm letting myself slip back into a place of insecurity.
this is a place that i have worked so hard to get out of.
to realize that there's nothing wrong with me. i have flaws, yes. but it wasn't until i saw the good in myself that i could tackle the bad.
and bit by bit, my self-critical, self-loathing side has creeped it's way into the forefront of my mind.
and i've been so unhappy; not because of my current circumstance, but because i stopped working to love myself.
to respect myself.
and my sister not only reminded me of that today, but also showed me how much she's grown.
i'm happy for her to learn the things i've learned. and to apply them.
it's a sucky lesson to learn, but it really, really is the most important one.
and she said fine, i've moved on to bigger and better.
and i jokingly said, named?
and she laughed and said, named self-respect.
and i.... cried.
because, that's what i've been saying to myself and everyone else for the last 9 months.
you only really ever move on once you've accepted yourself and learned to love who you are, etc etc.
you've heard all this from me before.
but.... lately, i've forgotten.
i've allowed myself to worry about money instead of be proud of my independence.
to let the emptiness of my apartment inspire loneliness instead of freedom.
to constantly worry about calories and wear more makeup than is necessary and feel nauseous whenever i hear the name "shelby."
i'm letting myself slip back into a place of insecurity.
this is a place that i have worked so hard to get out of.
to realize that there's nothing wrong with me. i have flaws, yes. but it wasn't until i saw the good in myself that i could tackle the bad.
and bit by bit, my self-critical, self-loathing side has creeped it's way into the forefront of my mind.
and i've been so unhappy; not because of my current circumstance, but because i stopped working to love myself.
to respect myself.
and my sister not only reminded me of that today, but also showed me how much she's grown.
i'm happy for her to learn the things i've learned. and to apply them.
it's a sucky lesson to learn, but it really, really is the most important one.
i have this theory.
this theory that... you have to learn to be single before you can ever be in a working relationship.
because if you go from relationship to relationship, you never learn how to love yourself.
and if you don't know how to love yourself, you don't know how you should be loved.
and you let people go on loving you in all the wrong ways.
and you'll never have a functional, healthy relationship.
you'll always be unhappy.
and you won't know why.
i'll tell you why- it's because you've never learned who you are, what you want or need. you don't know yourself, you don't love yourself. you let people tell you how to feel about yourself because you've never been independent enough to learn it on your own.
and i'm not the only one who feels that way....
Pinterest agrees
Meg agrees
Regina agrees
anyway...
i was just thinking about that today.
this theory that... you have to learn to be single before you can ever be in a working relationship.
because if you go from relationship to relationship, you never learn how to love yourself.
and if you don't know how to love yourself, you don't know how you should be loved.
and you let people go on loving you in all the wrong ways.
and you'll never have a functional, healthy relationship.
you'll always be unhappy.
and you won't know why.
i'll tell you why- it's because you've never learned who you are, what you want or need. you don't know yourself, you don't love yourself. you let people tell you how to feel about yourself because you've never been independent enough to learn it on your own.
and i'm not the only one who feels that way....
Pinterest agrees
Meg agrees
Regina agrees
anyway...
i was just thinking about that today.
to the man with the hair and the eyes and the plaid shirt who drove next to me from american fork to draper in the tan honda
let's do that every morning, yes?
and maybe one day, you'll follow me off 106th, and we can get coffee. and learn each others names.
and we can do that every morning, yes?
and maybe one day, we can meet for dinner. and learn each others laughs.
and we can do that every weekend, yes?
and maybe one day, you can take me home. and learn each others faces.
and we can do that every day, yes?
and maybe one day, we'll fall desperately in love. and learn each others lives. and we'll realize that we never want to stop learning about one another. and we'll talk about the small things. and we'll cry about the big things. and we'll laugh all the time.
and we can do that forever, yes?
or.. we can just play car-tag on the freeway.
whatever works for you.
and maybe one day, you'll follow me off 106th, and we can get coffee. and learn each others names.
and we can do that every morning, yes?
and maybe one day, we can meet for dinner. and learn each others laughs.
and we can do that every weekend, yes?
and maybe one day, you can take me home. and learn each others faces.
and we can do that every day, yes?
and maybe one day, we'll fall desperately in love. and learn each others lives. and we'll realize that we never want to stop learning about one another. and we'll talk about the small things. and we'll cry about the big things. and we'll laugh all the time.
and we can do that forever, yes?
or.. we can just play car-tag on the freeway.
whatever works for you.
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