The Land of Expectations

Ahh...expectations. Aren't they great?

An amazing friend once told me that disappointment is a direct result of expectations and that learning to live without them is the key to a happy life. So, always willing to try something once, I threw caution to the wind and forgot all of my expectations - for about 37 seconds. And while I love him dearly, I'm going to have to respectfully disagree with his philosophy, at least in how it pertains to me and my life. Call me naive (go ahead, I've been called worse) but I like to hope for the best in people, places and things until they have proven otherwise. I expect the best in humankind.

Recently I found myself disappointed in a person and a situation and seriously reconsidered the whole "no expectations" thing. But, after those 37 seconds passed, I once again remembered that's not who I truly am at my core. It's almost impossible for me to live without them.

Bottom line is this - I have expectations and they are a product of exactly what I feel about myself. I don't expect perfection, but I do expect to be treated with kindness and respect, to not have promises made only to be broken, and to have people's words match their actions. This is who I am, what I expect out of life and the people in it. I will not lower or completely forget about the things that matter most to me.

While I'm certain I will be disappointed
In the future, I'll continue to expect the best out of life. I know that there will be plenty of people as I grow that won't be able to meet my expectations. And that's okay, because it's these expectations that will help me weed out the people who don't deserve to be part of my life.

May today you be true to yourself...

The Dating Puddle

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...a glimpse into the 30-something single-girl dating diary. Dim the lights, pop the popcorn and get comfortable because you're all in for a entertaining treat.

Okay, maybe not.

I have to admit - I'm way out of practice when it comes to this whole dating thing. My last relationship was over 6 years, immediately following a 4 year-er, and my idea of date night was where someone else cooked dinner, there was more than just a fork on the table and I could wear heels (instead of flip flops) with my jeans. I know, I know.

I hate dating. Dating, contrary to what some good-intentioned friends tried to
convince me, is not like riding a bike. Because, you see, bike-riding does not involve progressively more complex and confusing levels as you age. You can wear the same bike-riding pants at 20 as you can at 30 and 40 and 50. You can even ride the same bike (or one just like it). You can get back on a bike seat and everything feels natural all over again. This is not the case for those of us who have been stepping around the dating puddle for such a long time. Apparently the rules (and clothes) of dating change as you age and all of it has the peculiar stench of awkwardness.

But, since we're on this whole living life kick I decided to give it a whirl. I got my nails done, my hair all fancied up, threw on a (gasp) dress and hit the town with random guy #1. Random guy #1 gets his name because we met in a random place, at a random time. I'm assuming there will be a random guy #2 - eventually.

Anywho, I guess in your 30s the word "date" means dinner and then maybe something following dinner if you're lucky enough to not have made a fool out of yourself in the first 60 minutes. Have you ever tried to have a conversation with someone you barely know that you're trying to impress and analyze all at the same time as you're chewing?? It's not that easy. Inevitably, there's always a question that comes right as you take a bite. But, awkward moments aside, dinner was filled with conversation (between chews) and very little silence, which I took as a good sign. Mission accomplished. And, I'm proud to say that I even knew enough not to consume enough alcohol to float a yacht (although the jitters were definitely encouraging me otherwise).

So...dinner's over...here's the true test...and the suggestion was dessert. Hmmm, not sure how to take that one. Here's what went on in my head, "Dessert? We just left a restaurant that served dessert. Is this a true extension of a date? What exactly does dessert mean? Am I over analyzing this? Argh."

Sigh. On to the next awkward moment.

Fears and Tears

Today's blog confession: I made my father cry.

Now I know that in my almost 33 years I've probably done a handful of things that have brought tears to my dad's eyes - like when I got caught by the parish priest writing scandalous non-Catholicy things, or when I blew out my knee and my soccer career went kaput, or when my pending nuptials went spiraling down the drain but I continued to date the ex-fiancé - but this was the first time he actually cried TO me BECAUSE of me. Well, not technically because of me, but more out of fear of something that may be happening.

If you've followed this blog at all, you'll recall my discussions about a particular health issue, which I affectionately refer to as "Carl." There's no actual reason for that other than calling it some random name seems to make it much easier to discuss (for weeks someone in my life thought Carl was a new boyfriend) and a little more palatable. It appears that Carl, much like a new boyfriend, still has a few surprises for me.

Reader's Digest version: My doctor's office called and said "biopsy" in the most chipper voice I've ever heard. Huh? I'm sorry, what is that you just said? I seriously believe Webster should strike that word from the English language. And no one should ever ever say it in a sing-songy voice. It does nothing except incite fear and, inevitably, tears. I shared the news with my dad who took it in stride until the very end of the conversation. He started to say that I needed to have every test I could possibly have, because....

Fear is a powerful thing. It can knock you over, take your breath away, remind you of the doomsday possibilities and distract you from the positive. It sits with you during the quiet, lonely moments, invades your dreams, erases the joy you should feel every day. Fear can hold you back, hold you down and ultimately immobilize you.

But I also believe that giving in to fear is a conscious decision. I sat with my own fears for a few days, then realized I had 2 choices: I could continue to let it define me, or I could defy it. Life is never promised to us, and each day is a very precious gift. So maybe, it some weird way, that too chipper phone call was a wake-up call from the universe, reminding me to grab hold of life and take in each moment I'm given (which included a great big splash back into the dating puddle - more on that in the next post).

Luckily for me, when it was all said and done, the word "biopsy" didn't turn out to be life-altering, unless you count the brand new outlook, new therapies and new meds. It was the good news I had been waiting to hear, the news that would make the fears non-existent, for both me and my dad. I'm honestly hoping this is one of the last times I ever make him cry.

May today you overcome all of your fears, dream all of your biggest dreams, and live in each and every moment.

Just a Quick Note

First, I want to apologize for the lack of witty postings. I have heard from a number of you about my apparent absence from the blog, so I figured I should probably write a quick note.

The truth is I recently had one of those moments when life comes around and knocks you on your ass. For some reason, this time around its been a little harder to get back on my feet than before. I've spent days walking around in emotional zombie land and haven't felt truly inspired to write (or talk or do for that matter) about anything. This is also my apology to those of you in my life who have experienced my lack of interest recently.

So - I may be MIA for a little while, but I will be back to regale you with stories of single hood shortly, just as soon as my legs get back underneath me. Thank you to all of you for your love, support, and continued readership of this fairly random blog, and I will see all of you very soon!

May all of you today find the things that pick you up...

Tiny Ripples

It's true that my life, like everyone else's, has had its share of potholes and brick walls.  Through all of the tragedies and triumphs though, one thing holds true - the universe has surrounded me with exactly the right people in exactly the right moments.  I'm not sure I will ever have the words to adequately describe the strength and support I receive from them, but those people have left enduring marks on my heart.

I have to admit, I was a little caught off-guard by the response to my last posting.  I tend to go off on tangents, especially in areas in which I am passionate, and this was no exception.  Through emails, phone calls and public postings (thank you to a very dear friend for sharing for others to see), I realized that my one tiny ripple reached more people than I could have ever imagined.

Within 48 hours of that posting, I received this poem.  Tonight I want to share it with you.  For all of my readers, both those I know and those I have never met, thank you for allowing me the safe place to open up:

I'm Glad I Touched Shoulders With You

There's a comforting thought at the close of a day

When I'm weary and lonely and sad

That sort of takes hold of my crusty old heart

and bids it be merry and glad.

It gets in my soul and drives out the blues,

and it finally thrills through and through:

It is just a sweet memory that chants the refrain,

I'm glad I touched shoulders with you.

Did you know you were brave,

Did you know you were strong?

Did you know that I waited and prayed

and was cheered by your simplest word?

Did you know that I longed for the smile on your face?

For the sound of your voice ringing true?

Did you know I grew stronger and better because

I have merely touched shoulders with you?

I'm glad that I live, that I battle and strive

For the place that I know I must fill;

I am thankful for sorrows; I'll meet with a grin

What fortune may send, good or ill.

I may not have wealth, I may not be great,

But I know I shall always be true,

For I have for eternity that love that you gave

Because I rubbed shoulders with you.

-Author Unknown

May you all continue to be that light for others.

Let's Talk About It

I just attended a domestic violence conference and between the heart-wrenching statistics shared there and the media storm that accompanied all of the young girls who tweeted they would allow Chris Brown to beat them following his appearance on the Grammy's, I feel compelled to do something I have very rarely done.

So let's talk about it.

Earlier in my life, I became involved with a guy that I originally thought was pretty damn amazing.  He seemed to be well-liked, had a bit of a bad boy edge, and was definitely into me.  Little did I know what I was actually getting involved in after that first date.

Through a series of events (which we'll save for some future blog), I had begun to think that love somehow involved some version of hurt.  My self-esteem was already floundering when I met this guy, I was at a point in my life where I had just started to come into my own and develop my own identity, and I fell HARD.  Things seemed wonderful at first....but even that didn't last very long.

Over the course of a few months it became increasingly obvious that I was much more considered property than a girlfriend.  I was expected to do things, say things, be things that he wanted, and there was constant ridicule and humiliation if I failed to comply.  At some point, things went from verbal and emotional abuse to physical. I somehow managed to hide the increasing amount of violence from everyone who loved me while still attempting to hold on to this "man".

One of the last violent moments still sticks in my mind as if it is somehow permanently imprinted there, like a horrible nightmare that just keeps replaying over and over.  It was late and I was ready to leave his house, ready to go home for the night.  I had already heard some really not-so-pleasant things about me, my body, and, without going into graphic details, my ways of doing things.  When I vocalized that I was heading home, the look in his eyes was almost crazed.  I was stripped of my clothing and locked in a room - an effort aimed at imparting humiliation and degradation but also at making it very clear who was actually in charge.  Again, no graphic details here, but it was a very long night.  When I finally arrived home I looked as if I had just been hit by a bus - I was covered in ash and Jack Daniels and could see the beginnings of more than just a few bruises.

Something in me came alive when I looked in the mirror that day.  I knew that if my parents had seen me (or smelled for that matter) that morning I would be in serious trouble.  More than anything, though, I knew I would see the concern in their eyes.  It's then that the voice in my head finally spoke up to support me - saying that there was no way I could continue on this path.

I made the decision to get out, made my plan, and eventually packed up and moved to California.  But the violence didn't end there.  He attacked me via all forms of social networking (at that time it was email and instant messenger - thank goodness Twitter and Facebook didn't exist, who knows how horrible that could have been) and flew out to California.  I became a statistic (it takes, on average, 7 attempts to leave an abusive situation), but when I refused to do the things he wanted me to do because the voice in my head was getting stronger, he attacked me verbally, told me I was never going to be wife-material, and packed up and left.  I never spoke to him again.

Let me be perfectly clear here - just because I walked away from an abusive relationship doesn't mean I am any better than those who choose to stay.  What it does mean is that one day I realized that I couldn't do it anymore, that I couldn't be that person any longer.  I do not look at women who choose to stay and blame them.  I WAS them.  For a long time.  It took a very long time to be able to look at myself in the mirror, to believe that the person staring back at me was not the person he convinced me I was.  I still have those moments today, more than 10 years later.  I understand the pain and heartbreak associated with an abusive relationship, both being in one and leaving one.  I understand the toll that takes on you and your life for years. I hope that if you are reading this and identifying with the situation, that you are not judged but supported by those who really love you.

So what needs to be done? What we need is not only to teach our girls that they are strong, competent, and that no man is ever going to be worth that, but also to teach our boys that violence is NEVER EVER okay.  I am not property, you are not my master, and the belief systems that encourage that way of thinking need to disappear.  We'll be able to do that when we start speaking up, loudly, and putting a face and a name to the violence.

You now have mine.

May all of you be treated with dignity, respect and love - today and always.

The Upside of Running Away

A few weeks back I took a much needed break from reality.  I packed a bag, decided against telling anyone I was leaving and ran away from my life.  And while I know there are a few of you out there skipping over words right now trying to get to the juicy part of THAT story, I’m sorry to say I’m still not sharing.  I firmly believe there are some moments, some memories in our lives that we should keep just for ourselves.  Ones that we only share with the person(s) we made them with.  But I digress.

I had reached a point in my life in which simply turning off the ringer on my phone and curling up on the couch wasn’t going to do any good.  I needed to be someone other than Jen, if only for a few days.  I needed to shut off the every day and be free to absorb the little joys in life.

  

We all have moments that can wreak havoc on our emotions - different situations that lead to a questioning of ourselves and if we’re truly on the right path.  I have a tendency to allow myself to be overpowered by the voice in my head that, despite any visible successes, knows exactly what to say to knock me off my feet.  This voice can become massive and cruel and can use almost any situation to point out all of my fears and weaknesses, turning them into some skewed version of the truth.  

I have learned, throughout my life, that running away from my problems for a short amount of time helps alleviate the voice in my head.  I think that denial is the mind’s way of allowing the body to continue to heal because if we continued to be stuck inside our minds, our physical selves would deteriorate until there was nothing left.  

I’m not saying that running away is a permanent coping skill to problems in our lives.  All that really happens then is the our problems find new homes in the places we ran to.  But running away for a short amount of time can give us the energy we need to face whatever challenges await with the courage and strength that was being depleted.  

And while I’m still not sharing, I will tell you that my break from Jen was exactly what I needed at that exact moment.  And for that I am grateful - grateful for those who accept me for who I am and for those who allow me to be whatever I want to be.

May you all find moments of rejuvenation today...