How Can We Change This?

In the past, I have written about things I fear as a single woman, things I am afraid of (MONKEYS), and things that make me worry for, well, for the human race as a whole, really. I have written about my worries and concerns, and have shared my friend's post about the fear of men that is sadly ingrained in all women.

But something in the news recently has triggered a reminder that no matter how many local murders, school shootings, mass killings, or kidnappings take place, I do not walk around in fear of my life. I am aware of my surroundings, I don't walk the streets late at night, and I avoid dimly lit parking garages, but overall, despite the very real risks, I do still live my life.

I try to remember that I can't control the bad in the world. If someone is going to kill me, it's going to happen; I'm not going to live in constant fear of what might happen. That'd be like never leaving home out of fear of a car crash or never traveling out of fear of a plane hijacking. You can't live like that. Get up, get out, and live the life you want - it's not your time to go until it's your time to go.

That said, I am absolutely fucking terrified of human trafficking. It scares the shit out of me. And the fact that there is a possibly trafficking case within a few city blocks of my apartment, is truly frightening. Despite that it may be the least likely disaster to actually happen to me, it is the one that scares me the most.

There is something just very finite about sex trafficking. I once read an article about it that said, if you go missing and are believed to be involved in the trafficking ring, if you are not found within 12 hours, you will never be found. Never. That is so final! With kidnapping or carjacking or rape cases, there is a chance. A chance to escape, a chance to be found or saved. With trafficking, there is no chance. You're literally never seen or heard from again, and that scares me more than anything else.

I recently drove from Vancouver to Olympia for a baseball tournament, and on the way up, Rachel and I had to stop to pee. In the bathroom at the rest stop on I-5 was a sign, written in about 11 languages, that said basically, if you are being forced to work or have sex against your will, call this number. It was eerie and chilling, and just too fucking scary for words. To know that this exists here, so close to home, and to know that really, if you become involved in it, there is no getting out...makes the hairs on my neck stand up.

What prompted this topic, is that there is a teen girl missing from Camas, which is just a leap from my own home. The news has stated that they are afraid she is involved in some human trafficking ring, and reading it just made my heart sink. Looking at all of the posts on her parents' "help us find our daughter" Facebook page was upsetting, because in reality, as pessimistic as it may be, she will never come home. If the suspicions of where she is are correct, these people will never see their daughter again. She is already on drugs, in another country, getting a bar code tattooed on her neck or her arm, and we'll never have any answers on her disappearance. And even though I don't know her, that makes me sick to my stomach.

I try to end my blogs on a positive, but I don't seem to be finding one today. It is just a very scary, chilling, frightening situation, and my heart goes out to this poor girl's parents.

It makes me wonder what I can do. How can I help? How can I make a difference? There are articles everywhere about fundraisers and awareness, and of course, the knowledge is power brigade. Talk about it. Know that it's a real thing, and that sadly, it is happening more and more, instead of less and less. Human trafficking is the second largest crime...how is that even possible? I've been doing my research, reading the facts, absorbing the information - and being scared fucking shitless. But sometimes, you have to find the thing that terrifies you to your very core, to know what human rights campaign you should be trying to help. And this is mine.

The Struggle is Real (Real Stupid)

There is a time in everyone's life - usually between ages 25 & 27 - where we think we are failing at life. Not just a little fail, but an epic fail. Chances are, we are settling into what we believe may be our career for the rest of our working life - and chances are, we probably aren't keen on that idea. We are dating the person we could potentially marry - and we may not necessarily be super excited about that either. Our friends are getting married, they're having babies. We spend a lot of time at wedding and baby showers, and a lot of money on bridesmaid dresses and bachelorette parties. If we are in college, we're probably rounding towards the end of a degree, about to graduate and be part of the Real World. We're starting to realize that it is not responsible to quit a job before we have another one, that a 401k is something we actually will need someday, that we should probably have more than six dollars in a savings account. We realize that we can't pay for everything with a credit card, and that coupons are sometimes necessary. We learn - usually through a pregnancy scare with someone we cannot imagine raising a human with - that we need to use a condom every time (sadly, this is also when we learn that we have to use said condom from the beginning if a baby is to be fully prevented). We realize, after putting on 15 pounds seemingly overnight, that we have to go to the gym and that we can't live on ramen noodles, and that we have to wear bras in public. We come to learn that we were sheltered as children and that our families are more fucked up than we ever thought. We learn a lot when we're 25. And some of it is hard to digest.

Age 25: The Year of the Quarter Life Crisis. 

Here's the thing. Some of us experience milder cases of the QLC. Mild enough that we forget it happened. And then when our younger friends experience it, we write it off, tell them to get the fuck over it, make them feel like they're just being whiny bitches. A lot of life happens between 25 and 30, and it lets us forget about the struggle of being 25.

But the struggle is real. For those of us who, at 25, are single and without children, working in bars, living in tiny apartments with roommates, watching all of our friends get married, get jobs with daytime hours, get pregnant, the struggle of the QLC is very real. And we are the ones who remember - and can offer a listening ear - it when our younger friends fall victim to it.

When I was 25, I had just graduated college and taken a month-long trip to Australia, where I spent a ton of money, saw things I'd never seen, and had epic life experiences that I will remember forever. I was working in a bar, living in an apartment, and I was dating guys who were so much fun - and so far from The Guy for Me. Don't get me wrong, I was happy. I was having a great time, had great friends, and was making decent money for a part time job. I didn't have paid time off, I had no money in savings, I lived off cash tips, I wasn't planning a wedding or trying to make babies, and I wasn't committed to anything happening more than 3 weeks past today. All I wanted to do was travel, drink, have sex, and sleep in - and not necessarily in that order.

And then I turned 26. All hell broke loose. What was I doing with my life? I was working part time at a job with no security and weird hours, I had no money and lived off of cash tips. I wasn't dating The Guy for Me, and I was having too much irresponsible fun. I was having sex, but I wasn't planning a wedding or making babies. I lived in a tiny apartment and wasn't saving for a down payment on a house. I had a car payment and owed student loans, and I had debt to my mom & dad. I was dreaming of vacations to foreign countries, when clearly I should have been at home, getting my fucking shit together. My proverbial duckies, were not at all in a row. FUCK!

After 25 but before 30, we start being bombarded with all of the SHOULDs; what we should be doing, where we should be living, what we should have accomplished. We start to feel the pressure, start to feel like because we aren't getting married and making our 2.5 kids in our starter home with a white picket fence, we are doing something very wrong. We begin to feel like we are failing. Our world is crumbling because even though we may feel happy and successful, we aren't where we should be. And if we're not where we should be, we're not happy and successful, obviously. Because really, at 25, we are sheep. And sheep are supposed to follow the other sheep. So since we aren't doing what we should be doing, we are failing at being a good sheep.

The thing about the Quarter Life Crisis though, is that it really is all about perspective. That's the part we don't learn til we're 30. When we turn 30, we stop worrying about what we should have been doing for the past five years, and begin to be able to focus on what we want to be doing now. We stop caring that all of our friends are married and have their 2.5 kids. We stop being concerned about mortgages and realize that home ownership is a bitch and sometimes not worth it. We look back on our abusive relationships, our heartbreaks, our bruised credit scores and our slowly growing savings accounts, and we realize that we're fine. We're happy. We don't need those things to make happiness and success for us; our happiness and success is right here waiting for us to open our eyes and see it. We realize that if something doesn't work, we don't have to do it. We can change anything we want to, in the pursuit of happiness. Marriage, babies, and a picket fence is what sheep think they need to be happy - because we are programmed from birth to think that that's what we should have. I'm not a sheep. I don't need that. I don't want that. I want companionship, sex, sleep, and a roof over my head. Those things may not come in the form of husband, child, and mortgage, and that's just fine. By the time we make it to 30, we realize that all we're really after is a purpose, a reason to get out of bed other than the need to pee, and someone to laugh with on a long drive.

And once we realize that we've made it through the struggle - that we've survived the QLC - we can dive into life head first, proverbial duckies strewn about, without order or purpose, and just do what makes us the happiest. My duckies are all over the place, but my duckies are happy. Do more of what makes you happy; it really is just that simple. 

Boys Love Fire

Boys sure do love fire...

This weekend was the 4th of July, one of my favorite holidays. I love the 4th because there is no pressure to spend it with anyone specific, just a fun weekend to take a day or two off work, get together with family & friends, and enjoy the summer weather. If you read my blog on the regular, you may know that this past winter holiday season was especially difficult for me, as I was dealing with what I now know was grief, but was then being personified as anger and hostility. Getting through Thanksgiving and Christmas of 2013 was a challenge, and I was very excited when I would up with some fun, relaxing, family and friend plans for this holiday weekend.

I spent the 4th with my cousin Stacey and our friend Juliana, and their husbands, kids, and parents. We ate, drank, and once it was dark, sat in a row on the sidewalk and watched an hour or so of fireworks. It was great! The little boys played with Pop-Its and sparklers, and the guys set off some great fireworks for us.

I then spent the 5th and 6th in Pacific City, with one of my best friends, her boyfriend, her son, and another guy friend. It was exactly the holiday weekend I needed to relax and recharge, and to give myself a bit of an attitude adjustment. I drove down in the morning on the 5th, and thoroughly enjoyed the company in the car - lots of laughs, not too much work talk (which is sometimes a downfall of being friends with your coworkers), and some poor traffic choices. We all met up at my aunt's beach house in Pacific City, which is literally my happiest place on Earth, had lunch & a couple of beers, packed the cooler, and headed to the beach. The weather was amazing; we played in the sand, put our toes in the ocean, and then, of course, the guys made fire! I mean, don't get me wrong, we needed it - we were roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, and a fire on the beach is never a bad thing - but it was really funny to watch Josh, Mike, and even PJ build their fire. There is just something about boys and fire; like, they can't just make a fire, they have to maaaaake a fire.

The fire party extended into the night, as Rachel and I sat back and watched an amazing fireworks display put on by the city of Pacific City, while PJ couldn't deal with not playing with fire of his own and proceeded to light his own little tiny fireworks display in the sand.

After our fire was out and the fireworks were done, we headed back to the beach house and put PJ to bed, then proceeded to have a couple more drinks and another fire in the fire pit in the backyard. I had made the decision to camp out on the deck, but I ended up laying on my cot, under the stars, next to the fire...because what better place to be?! The fire wasn't out as one by one we all crashed out, but there is something just awesomely mellow about closing your eyes and listening to one rage on nearby.

There is something about playing fire that boys apparently just can't help, and it seems to be fairly universal. Whether they're 10 or 35, boys love fire. I think they can't help it. It's part of why I love the 4th of July - the way men turn into boys around all the fire and explosives, the way they jump to cook your dinner outside, the way they can't stop poking at a fire with a stick. It's just funny. I love it.

Weekends like these - the ones where I am surrounded by my favorite people, where the weather is fabulous, where I am at the beach, where I get to have real conversations with real people - are my favorite. Weekends like these remind me that sometimes you just need to take a step back from the daily grind to have a little fun, drink too much, and take a nap in the sand.

Be a Lion, Don't Sweat What the Sheep Think

This post topic was at the request of one of my friends; someone I haven't known a very long time, but with whom I had a fairly strong connection from the jump off. There are people I meet and become friends with on a very surface level, and then there are people who I meet and share a lot with on a little deeper level. This is one of those people - someone who "gets me", someone who can talk me off a ledge when I am flipping the fuck out over something stupid. So, when he requested that I write this blog, I was happy to oblige. Because, I feel the same way!

Today's Topic: Just because I have known you longer, doesn't mean I have to be on your side.

Sometimes friends get a little possessive. Sometimes they have unrealistic expectations, or expect that you are going to have their back on any and every dumbfuck thing they ever do or say. And when you're a teenager, that's totally a legit expectation. Because in high school, we are all sheep. We do what our best friends want, we wear what they wear, we think what they think. In junior high and high school, we are much less individuals and much more in a pack mentality where you want to be exactly the same as everyone else to avoid making waves.

However, we are no longer in high school; this is real life. I have thoughts, feelings, and opinions of my own, and many of them don't line up with those of all of my friends. I have now had just shy of 31 years to form these beliefs - but my friends have also had 30+ years to form beliefs of their own. Do they always line up? Nope! Do we sometimes argue about politics or religion or sex education or children? Yep! And that is the difference between a high school bromance and a real adult friendship. It's okay to think differently. It's okay to argue and debate. And it's okay to not be a clone of your "bestie."

The thing about real friends is, even when you're wrong, they will have your back. They'll support you even through your stupidest decisions. But unlike the clones you were in high school, your real friends will not always agree with you when you are being an ass hole. A real friend will call you out. A real friend will sit you down and explain why they don't agree with your choices or why they think you're acting insane. That doesn't make them a shitty friend. That's what makes them a real friend. A real friend doesn't go balls to the wall to start a bar fight with you, nor do they agree with you like a sheep when you are debating something with someone else; a real friend has your back, but is honest with you when you're being insane.

We are adults. We don't have to agree on everything. How boring would it be if we did? A little debate or disagreement every once in a while is what keeps things spicy between friends. Part of what I admire about my closest friends is that we are not all exactly the same. We are different, and none of us fits in a little box - but we can respect, admire, and learn from those differences, and really, we're better friends for it.

Stop trying to be a sheep. Be yourself. Stand your ground. You don't have to be your friend's twinzie to be their BFF. Just let them do them, and you do you. You'll be better friends on the other side of your first real disagreement.

Keep Your Political Agenda Out of My Vagina

I had every intention of not writing this blog while I was still angry. I was going to wait til I calmed the fuck down and then write a thoughtful, organized post on all the reasons I am disappointed in the Supreme Court today for their ruling about the availability/coverage of birth control for women - that ruling being that "conservative" business owners need not provide birth control to women under their health care plans.

However, as a debate rages on my Facebook page, I find myself getting more - not less - pissed off, so here goes nothing.

Why in the fuck does anyone think that they have the right to take away my access to birth control, based on the religious beliefs of some bazillionairre in a suit somewhere way up in some company??? What the fuck right do you have, as my boss, or as my insurance company, or as my boyfriend, or as literally anyone other than ME, to tell me that I can no longer access birth control because someone else believes life begins when a guy cums?!? What the fuck kind of bull shit, sexist, asinine garbage is this?!?

Here's the thing: I don't care when you - "you" being Corporate Big Shot in Charge of My Medical Care - think life begins. It doesn't matter. Providing health care coverage to employees does not get to bring in a religious "but what if." It shouldn't matter. It should not matter whether Man in Suit believes life begins at conception, or whether a sperm isn't a baby til it looks like one. It doesn't fucking matter because I am not trying to get health care coverage from a church! I don't work in a church, I work in an office. I work in an office for a company for which I pay way too much into my own medical benefits. I deserve to have adequate, fair, comprehensive access to the birth control of my choice.

You can give me all of the excuses in the book: the fact that health insurance doesn't pay for condoms for guys, the fact that I can still use the pill even if I can't use an IUD, the fact that corporations are legally allowed to be discriminatory pricks if they want....none of these arguments will change my mind or change my opinion. I don't care what the reasons are; it's wrong to deny any sort of medical care based on religious or political views.

Let's look from another angle, shall we? I manage an apartment complex for a living. Part of my job is to treat everyone the same, whether they are old, young, black, white, or purple. My ass in on the line if I even think about thinking about refusing to rent an apartment to someone based on their race, class, disability, yada, yada, yada. However, I am, in my personal life, very pro-choice. I am also very supportive of gay marriage. I also think you should be able to take a gun pretty much anywhere if you have a conceal/carry permit. BUT, I do not get to refuse an apartment to someone who is pro-life, nor do I get to deny the rental application of someone who is homophobic or in favor of major gun control. It's not how it works. I have to treat everyone the same, and I deserve to be treated the same.

Whether you believe life begins at conception, or whether you support abortion up to 12 weeks, is irrelevant. Whether you think condoms are expensive or not, is irrelevant. All that matters here is fact: and the fact is, when I signed up for my health care package through my employer, I did not - and should not - have to worry about them taking away access to certain medications, no matter what reason I need them for.

End rant.

Done, And Done.

Despite my seemingly tough girl exterior, I really do tend to give people - my friends specifically - the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes, to the point where they don't deserve it. I care about the people in my life a lot, and for that reason, when someone I care about lets me down, I find myself really disappointed and hurt. And while it may take me a long time or a lot of crap to arrive at the I'm done point, once I'm done, I am done. 

Right now, I'm feeling very done. I have spent the past 12 months being a damn good friend; being patient, considerate, kind, and without expectation. I've asked all the right questions and have had all the right answers, and without giving myself a high five, I have to say I've been nothing but a great friend. And yet, it has occurred to me that I am not getting the same out of this friendship that I am putting into it. I am on the back burner and am the only one making an effort; I am a second thought (if that) and am not a priority. And I've exhausted myself trying to justify and excuse someone else's poor behavior, while the reality is, I am just not as important to this person, as this person has been to me. 

So I'm done. I will not continue to make that effort. If you want to talk to me, you'll call. If you want to see me, you'll drive to my place and take me to dinner. You won't say stupid or hurtful shit in front of me to impress your other friends, because you'll figure out that my feelings are important. And more than anything else, you'll make me a priority, the way I've made you one in the past year. It's very simple. And you'll either step up to the plate, or we won't continue to be friends. It's been hard to come to that realization, and it's hard to say it that way, but it's true - the ball is no longer in my court, but in yours. 

It's not as easy to make new friends as an adult. It's also not as important to have a thousand friends you party with. I care much more about developing closer, deeper friendships with fewer people these days. Do I want to have fun? Of course! But I don't want to surround myself with a ton of people who really, at the end of the day, don't care about me enough to make an effort for me. I deserve more than that from people. We all do. We deserve friends who support and encourage us, who inspire us to be better people, and who are there for us when we need somebody. When you find yourself in a one-sided friendship, sometimes the only thing you can do is take a few steps back and wait to see whether your friend really cares enough to put in the effort, or if it may be time to admit defeat and walk away. 

It's hard to get to the point where you're done. It's hard to wipe your hands of someone you care about. But sometimes people just don't do what you need from them; sometimes they fail to come through on their end of a relationship. And when that happens, in order to take the best care of yourself, it may be necessary to walk away. 

Good friends are hard to come by. When you find a good one, hold tight. Make the effort. Do your best. Remind that person how important they are and how much you enjoy having them in your life. As good friends, we all need to hear that sometimes. 

Yoga for the Soul

365 days ago, I was smack dab in the middle of my very first Advocare 24 Day Cleanse. I was starving, detoxing off of caffeine, craving salt like a crazy woman, and was one cranky bitch. And yet, I was doing the best thing possible for myself - eating green! The cleanse itself was the jumping off point to a whole new mindset for me: green is better, processed is bad. Seems fairly simple. 

When the Cleanse was complete, I wrote this blog about organics, and about the ways that I'd learned that eating green and choosing organics was completely worth all of the hype. Food tasted better. Fruit looked real instead of plastic, veggies needed to be rinsed off because they came out of the dirt, and I could not believe the difference in my meat and dairy, especially eggs. I was on board! 

A year later, I still believe that organic food is the best for you. Where I used to spend an hour grocery shopping at Fred Meyer, I now spend a whole Saturday picking berries and visiting local farmer's markets. And honestly, I love it. I have always enjoyed my "me" time at the grocery store, but spending a day in the sun, with some chill music and a friend, is even better - it's like yoga for the soul! I spent an entire day outside this weekend, buying much more local produce than I could possibly need, but just enjoying some best friend time and good music, and then ended the day with a local hard cider out on Sauvie's Island - it was great!

Could I do better? Yes. I don't buy 100% organic produce, because sadly I can't afford to. (Which is bull shit, by the way, that it costs a percentage more to purchase clean, non GMO, non cancer causing fruits and veggies.) 

But I am doing much better than I was at this time last year. I read labels. I never, ever buy meat that isn't organic. I also only buy organic eggs and milk. I buy as much of my produce as possible from local farmers. So it is a change I was - and still am - committed to. Because I don't want to get cancer from my lunch. 

It seems so easy, the whole eating green mentality. And yet, it's not. And it's not because of - big fucking shocker - money and politics. Because of course, we cannot just eat food. Instead it has to be about being spoon fed by whoever makes the most money. And suddenly, reading your food labels becomes way more challenging than it should be - to the point where half the time I just say fuck it, and take a leap of faith that the yogurt I am buying is not full of chemicals (though I am sure more often than not, it is). 

Did you know that Naked Juice is owned by Coca Cola? And that Odwalla is owned by Pepsi? Or maybe vice versa, but the point is, what the fuck kinda double dipped bull shit it that?!? Soda is like, literally, the worst thing to put in your body, and the giant soda-producing companies are going to trick me into thinking that Odwalla and Naked are chemical free?! Yea right! Sure enough, they just recently came under attack for having cyanide or some shit, in their Naked juices. No, not cyanide...formaldahyde! Umm, yes, the shit that you put the dead pig in that you have to dissect in high school. The stuff that prevents your dead pig from decomposing in your classroom before you're done studying it's guts. 

Fuck that.

It becomes so difficult to choose healthy, non-GMO, pesticide free products, that I bet half of the people who are trying to do right by their bodies end up giving up. It's hard! Grocery shopping, which I did used to enjoy, now feels like homework, and most of the time, I just decide that all I need is produce because I'm too freaked out by what is in anything else. And it should not be that hard. Nobody should be able to trick us on their labels; it should be straight forward: this shit will cause cancer, and this shit won't. People should not be scouring labels for the truth after some bold faced lie about "natural" ingredients is blasted on the front of the box - these labels fool people into buying unhealthy, dirty foods instead of the natural, green options they are after. It's wrong. And we should be mad about it. And we should not be tolerating it.

But we are. I mean, some of us are. It is very refreshing to see my Facebook bombarded with posts from people not tolerating it, from people writing articles and publicizing what really is a serious issue. 

365 days after my initial cleanse and my initial attempt at eating more locally grown, chemical free, organic foods, I have learned a lot about what is safe to go in my body and what isn't. I have learned that non-fat is usually worse than full fat, and that the best things for you are generally not even sold in the grocery store. I have learned that I love picking berries, looking for new farmer's markets, and being outside when I buy my food. In reality, it is unlikely that I will ever be able to consume 100% clean food - but I can try my best to do so. All it takes is more effort and more patience, and if it means my salad won't give me cancer, I am willing to do the leg work.

You should be too. Read your labels. Know your product. And most importantly, buy foods that make you feel good. 

As Long as You Learn Something

Day #3: What lessons have your learned from blogging? 

When I started this blog in last July (almost a year ago, wow!!), my goals were to blog 4-6 times per week, on topics which both irritated and amused me, hence the "rants and raves." I wanted to find a way to get people to read it, and I wanted people outside of my immediate friends and family to read it.

I learned how to put my own blog on a selfless blast on the regular. I learned to post a blog and then Pin it on Pinterest with a photo that people would surely click on. I began Tweeting each post and I started a Tumblr account (which I still am unsure of). I also, of course, publicly post each blog to Facebook. Additionally I learned that I could link other blogs in my own new blog (thanks Matthew). This resulted in a much larger audience than I knew I was capable of. I have posts which have been viewed 300-500 times, which is so amazing - people outside the US are following it...just what I wanted!

By writing a public blog and not locking down any privacy settings, I have learned that crazy people do, in fact, like to see what I am doing on the internet. I have learned that my former family stalks me online, which I think is hysterical. The less funny part is, they also make attempts to sabotage my already distant relationship with my own grandmother. So that's just really mean. But do what you gotta do to feel better about your pathetic little life, I suppose.

I have learned that my rants are more widely read than my raves. When I get on a tangent about how much I hate dogs, or even more so when I talk about victim shaming or body image, people respond and are generally super energetic about it - apparently it's a more entertaining read to listen to me complain. Even more than my bitching about things that piss me off, readers (except my mom) enjoy when I write about sex, sex, or more sex. Which makes sense.

Overall, by writing this blog, I have grown much more confident in my writing ability; I feel like I have a great following, I get a ton of compliments on my posts, and people often share or re-tweet them as well. I have learned that maybe "being a writer" isn't something I will ever make a living off of, but it is certainly something that I do. I write. I am a writer. I don't necessarily need for that to be my source of income (though what I wouldn't give for that), for it to be successful. I have learned that when I do receive criticism on something I post, I don't have to change it or remove it; it's my blog, it's my writing, and I don't have to censor it for people I know are reading it.

Ahhh, writing. Like free therapy.

Like Ripping Off a Band-Aid

Day #2: Update an old post. 

In December, I wrote this post about emotional baggage, and the way it affects your new relationships. At that point, I was spending a lot of time with someone who had gone through a pretty shattering breakup a couple of months before that, and there was definitely a lot of baggage in the way of anything potentially happening. And that was fine - as I wrote in that blog post, I understand (and have) baggage just as much as anyone else. I respect it, and I know that sometimes it can truly be the reason that something doesn't work out.

Here we are, almost 7 months after I initially wrote this blog post, and my perspective on baggage has changed a little bit. I still understand and respect it, and I get that there are things that will never go away...but I also feel that baggage easily becomes a crutch or an excuse for not moving on, in which case, you need to take some responsibility.

They (whoever they are) say that time heals all wounds. And I believe that to be mostly accurate. Time will heal a broken heart, and time will help alleviate the grief of that failed relationship. But time isn't going to eliminate the emotional baggage that you are holding onto. That's your responsibility. Letting go of your fear, your lack of faith, your unwillingness to let someone else in - that's up to you.

At what point are you letting your fear take over? At what point are you guarding your heart so much that you aren't letting anyone else get close enough to you for you to care about them? And when do you acknowledge that as losing the battle? You're not winning because you're alone or because you're in control of your feelings and not letting your heart find someone else. That's not how you find happiness in a life with someone. That's the recipe for being alone. More importantly, that's the recipe for waking up one day and seeing exactly what you missed out on by being scared and closed off, and by letting your baggage control you. Do you want to open your eyes one day, when the person who was with you through all of it is happy with someone else, and realize that what you wanted was staring you in the face all that time and you were too scared, mad, hurt - whatever - to see it?

It's easy to close your heart off. It's easy to say you don't care and that you don't have feelings and that you want to be alone. I've said it, I've felt it. It's easy to let your emotional baggage control you and to let yourself be convinced that it's better to be alone than to be hurt. It's more difficult to open your eyes and see how much you care about someone. It's harder to recognize your jealousy when they talk about other dates they're on or other people they've been seeing. It's harder to admit that you care, even harder to say it out loud. But in the end, nothing that was truly worth it, was ever super easy.

We all have baggage from previous relationships that we will always carry, that friends, therapists, and new relationships will help lighten but will likely always be there. Time will fade the heartache, and will heal the wounds. But it's our own responsibility to make a conscious choice to be open to the next person who could love us. Do you want to miss out? Do you want to blame someone else for what someone else did you to? Do you want to be the one that gets left behind because you were scared to close your eyes and jump?

Time heals all wounds, but you're the one who has to rip off the Band-Aid. What exactly are you waiting for?

Epic Life Fail

Thanks to Juliana, who writes one of the fab blogs I follow regularly, I am starting on a new 30 day blog challenge. I find that the weeks that I am able to blog 3-4 times, I see much more traffic and page views, and I also am just more excited about it, because let's be real, this nerdy girl loves to write! But I can only come up with so many ideas on my own in a week, so I am often in search of a new blog challenge to give me fresh topics.

After all, it can't all be sex ed and parties, right?

Day 1#: Share a recent failure and what you learned from it...

Does this include failing at life? Because lately, I feel like I am just experiencing some general life failure. I've just been so tired, and feeling so blah,  that I haven't had much drive to get up and do anything. A big contributor to that is that right now, I am experiencing some health issues in which I am throwing up almost everything I eat or drink. So I'm hangry, like, all the time. Barfing five to ten times in a day makes me tired, and not keeping any food down makes me tired, and grouchy, and hungry. Plus, it is super awkward to be out to lunch or dinner with a friend and have to go in some nasty public bathroom to throw up. So I have just been sticking closer to home the last several weeks, which is an uncommon thing for me once the summer sunshine sets in.

So overall I just feel a little bit like I am failing at summer maybe - I haven't been traveling or taking a day to run to the coast, and I haven't been on any hikes or nice long walks. And I am certainly not consuming enough summer brews right now.

What have I learned? I've learned that I am not a fan of being sick, nor do I enjoy vomiting in public. Or anywhere, really. I have learned, though, that there are things I enjoy doing closer to home, that don't involve food and drink, that still allow for some fun with friends. My friend Kattie and I just recently refinished a desk, and are now starting on another. What I have learned is, I am obsessed with power tools. I am having so much fun sanding and staining and painting, and none of those things are causing me to toss cookies, so that's awesome. I have planted an array of plants on my patio, and I've learned that while I may struggle to keep them alive, I enjoy potting flowers and I enjoy having them there. I've learned that I read a lot more books when I don't feel good and want to do nothing but lay on the couch. And I've learned that I am much happier when I can get off the couch, and when I have the energy to go out, eat & drink with my friends, visit my family, hang out with their babies, and be outside.