Wednesday, April 30, 2014

What If Wednesday: What if I could do it again?

Today's Topic: What If...I could do it again?

Only 5-10 minutes of writing....GO!

So many thoughts.  I've asked myself this a lot lately.

I always find that I have a better come back, a better solution, a better answer, a better ways of coping, handling, or dealing with something after the fact. 

The truth is...I'm very rarely someone who handles anything the "right way" on my first reaction.  I need time to process.  Work it out in my own head.  Make peace with whatever inner conflicts I have before responding to anything, decide what I think or how I really feel, decide on the right words to use because I'm notorious for saying something stupid.  

Very few people understand that about me...that I'm so much better when I can process. 

Even Bonehead...who honestly knows me better than anyone still forgets that you can't put me on the spot, especially if I'm exhausted, overwhelmed, or stressed.  

But, would I do it all over again if I could? 

I might have ended my last relationship sooner.

I might have saved more money instead of spending it on stupid things in my earlier 20's. 

I might have gone to this or that event. 

I might not have let that person in my life. 

I might not have believe that other person was truly my friend. 

I might have waited. 

I might have done that sooner. 

I like to think that I'm happy I made the decisions I did because doing it that way made me the person I am.  But damn if I don't sometimes say to myself, "I should have said/done THIS instead of what I did!"

Sunday, April 27, 2014

15,000 Views. Thank you.

When I hit 100 "Likes" on Facebook, I wrote this piece titled Gratitude.  What I wrote there is still true today, only on a much larger scale.

15,000 Views. That means people chose to look at my blog, my words, my dreams, my experiences, my bullshit, my family, and my life 15,000 times.

That is incredible.

Thank for you being a part of my journey.  For sharing your confessions and your stories and your heartbreaks and your happiness.  For relating on some level.  For advising me when you can.  For just being awesome.

Thank you.

Thank you from the bottom of my Cheesy Heart.

I have no other words.

Sunday Confessions: In The Car

Welcome to another Sunday Confessions!

Today's prompt is:
In The Car

So many things happen when I'm in the car.

Over the winter, my beloved car that I'd had since I was 19 broke down.  It was less than 10 day before Christmas. The repairs were going to be expensive and while all car maintenance is expensive, with the money that had been put into the car in the last 2 years it meant that it was time for something more reliable as there were signs that there was only more to come.

Car shopping in Wisconsin in the Winter is one of most miserable experiences I've ever had.  Especially when there is an incredibly tight budget.  I knew I was going to need a new car, I just thought I could squeeze out another two years and so I was incredibly unprepared financially to buy a new car.

In the end, I went two months without a car.

Luckily, I found one.  But then something needed to be done with the old car and I decided to sell it.  I sold it to a man who apparently enjoyed repairing Pontiacs.  As they loaded it up, I misted up.

I'm super sentimental, even about cars.  My first car was chosen for me.  My second car, the one I sold roughly two week ago, was one I made the decision to buy.  The color was not my first choice.  I had it in my head that I wanted something sparkly and red.  But, it was an incredible deal and the car was in wonderful shape.  I was so proud and I loved it.

I cried later that night, silly as that may be.  That car traveled with me through so much in 8 years.

It was my first major purchase with my own cash.

I used that car to move my things into a new place after moving in with my high school sweetheart, who left to go to work one day and just decided to not to come back.  I was 19 and had been fired three days before for the first time in my life.  The car got me to my next interview, my next apartment, and on with my life.

I got my first traffic ticket in that car.  Actually, I've only been pulled over in that car.

I brought home my furry babies in that car.

On the rainy night my nephew was born, I drove across town to pick up my little brother to come spend the night at my house while our Mom was with my sister at the hospital.

My brother learned to drive in a lot of vehicles, but I like to think he got a lot of his hours of experience on the road in that car with me.  He passed on the first try, which is more than I can say for myself.

When my sister turned 21, I drove that car to take her out for the first time.

That car drove me to the airport for my first trip on an airplane alone.

The first time I met Bonehead, I drove that car three and a half hours to get there.

That car drove me to the funerals of some of the people who mattered most to me, including one of my favorite uncles and my grandfather who passed away the same year.

My nephew napped in that car.

I've stolen away for late night goodies with many friends in that car.

I have rocked out to music I loved in that car.

I have cried over many hurt feelings, heartbreaks, and losses in that car.

That car also drove me to many new experiences, fun times, first times and great memories.

Maybe I'm silly this way, but I'll never forget all the wonderful things that happened in the car.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

What If Wednesday: What if my life was a Fairy Tale?

Today's Topic: What life was a Fairy Tale?

Only 5-10 minutes of writing....GO!

"I am not a pretty girl
that is not what I do
I ain't no damsel in distress
and I don't need to be rescued
so put me down punk
maybe you'd prefer a maiden fair
isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere" - Ani DiFranco

I've never prided myself on being a pretty girl.  I don't recall every being a "Princess" when I was a little girl.  I don't remember my parents ever calling me one.  When I was a kid, everyone loved the Disney Princesses and wanted to play with the dolls but there wasn't all of the dress up and "be a princess" attitude that there is now.  But...maybe there was and I just wasn't into it.

But what if my life was a Fairy Tale?

I might like to be the Princess who gets to sleep until her Prince Charming comes to rescue her.  Maybe then I would get enough rest to live happily ever after and not end up an exhausted Queen once Prince Charming and I start making royal crotch droppings.

I could live under the sea.  Life as a Mermaid Princess doesn't sound so unfair...pretty sure I wouldn't have a period, would never have to wear pants, can lure men to their deaths with my voice (because I'd be able to sing) and I'd get a clam bra.  Because who doesn't want a clam bra?

I could live a life with almost perfect hair.  I could wear pretty dresses to fancy dinners.  I wouldn't complain about having a household staff to clean the 50+ rooms of my castle and make my bed.  I might actually get a pony, or maybe have a pet tiger.  Maybe Prince Charming would show up and rescue me from whatever plight I found myself in and we would get married and life Happily Ever After.

Probably won't happen.  I'm really not the rescuing type.  Turns out, I'm the kind of Princess who spends a little too much time kissing frogs hoping for a Prince.  And I wouldn't know how to let a Prince rescue me anyway because somewhere deep inside of me, I enjoy killing my own spiders.  Maybe I would change my mind if a dragon were involved.  But until then...I'm just going to have to keep buying myself sparkly shoes and not wait for a man to show up and see if the one he found somewhere is a perfect fit for my foot.

"and what if there are no damsels in distress
what if I knew that and I called your bluff?
don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down
whether or not you ever show up?" - Ani DiFranco

**Fun Fact...I've actually been to the Chateau Du Chambord pictured above**

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Tickled Tuesday: The Pet Edition

Indecisively Blogging

It's time for Tickled Tuesday with Indecisively Blogging.  This week the topic is ANIMALS.

Oh my goodness.  The things I could say and the stories I could tell you.  

My childhood pup once ate scented crayons and covered our little lawn with rainbow colored poops for 3 days. 

We got our first cat when I was 14 and my sister was 12.  My sister was convinced it was a girl and named it Penelope Spencer Bentley Botswick.  Then, "Penelope" grew little kitty testicles.  His names was then changed to Angus Penelope Spence Bentley Botswick because she wanted to call him "Gus Gus" like on Cinderella.

But he was a rather petite, black cat...and I often called him Angus the Cow Cat.  Angus was probably too little to be separated from his mother.  Unfortunately, being a barn cat, we couldn't be sure.  So he was fed with a dropper for the first few weeks we had him, and he never really learned how to be a cat on account of spending the first year of his life being carried around on ample bosoms, and nesting on chests and around necks every night to sleep.  It's cute when you're dealing with a 6 pound ball of fur, not so much when you're dealing with a 11-12 pound cat.  He spent his life acting like a furry baby, eating off forks, and helping himself to whatever he wanted to eat.  He was particularly fond of pink lemonade, cream cheese stolen off bagels, and berries.  

My brother's cat came later.  Samson.  He's beautiful, and has all the qualities of a Russian Blue.  Interesting, for a cat that was abandoned with his siblings.  He quickly grew and last I heard tipped the scaled at 21.5 pounds.  He is an incredible nap buddy.  When my brother leaves town, Samson will bring up his clean laundry from the basement, drop it in the middle of the dining room floor and caterwaul. 

When I moved out, I waited a few months before getting my first cat, Tyler.  I knew from the moment I saw his little face that he was supposed to be mine.  He came to live with me.  A few months later, I started working more and was considering getting him a little kitty friend.  I went to the local humane society and his brother Ryan (who I had seen when I got Tyler, but I didn't want to overwhelm myself with two cats in my first apartment by myself) was still there.  He came home with me 3 days later. 

When I first moved into my apartment, my landlord was this middle-aged man, kinda "geeky" but mostly quiet who lived downstairs by himself.  Our mutual space was kept pristine.  

I think I've changed his life. 

One day Tyler got outside and my landlord said it was ok if he played in the porch.  What started as kitties playing on a porch turned into my landlord building little ramps so they could look out the window.  One day I walked in to find an elaborate string system set up on the ceiling so that if one cat played with a toy, it would cause the other toys to move and would entertain the other cat.  

Every day I would come home to something new.  One day, he decided there needed to be a kitty "patio", so he made a little box, enclosed it in screens and screwed it to an existing window.  The week after, he had found a cat in the neighborhood and had started feeding it.  One day I came home to find it in the house. 

Then, the new cat started living with the landlord.

I started being afraid to come home. 

Then I found a kitten on the boulevard one night.  He started living with my landlord too. 

Then we needed cat doors so the cats could go where they wanted.  I walked into my landlord's kitchen one day while asking to borrow a tool...there were 8 different kinds of cat food, a water fountain, and wet food on the floor. Then it turned into ramps outside to little cages.  The little cages got bigger.  Then, it turned into a 9 foot fence with an overhang so they can't climb out of it.  

Then the landlord noticed a hawk and got worried so he ran string in a matrix from one side of the  yard to the other because the hawk wouldn't fly in and risk getting stuck because it would see all the string.  The cats started bring in creatures.  It's one thing for a cat to bring you a mouse, it's another for it to bring a completely healthy, uninjured mouse into the house and put it in a food dish and walk away. 

That's when the  landlord decided to get a large, plastic owl decoy.  Which is fine, until you're nonchalantly walking out the door to go to work and freak out because something huge is staring at you from the clothesline pole.  I ducked down and backed up so fast...I didn't even know I had moves like that. 

The thing about pets is...they will bring you great joy.  They will cause you to clean things you never thought you would.  There will be hilarious moments.  They will cause your landlord to build structures and you'll end up with a yard that looks like a miniature prison.  There will be moments where you are incredibly annoyed.  But, they will love you in ways you never thought you deserved to be all for a bowl of food, water and your love. 

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Sunday Confessions: LET

Welcome to another week of Sunday Confessions!  There are some holiday today so.... Happy Easter!  Happy 420! and Happy Half-Price Cadbury Egg Day!  Happy Peep Genocide!

I'm glad you've joined me for another week.

This weeks prompt:

Let it go.
Let it happen.
Live and let live.

Let is such a small word with such a huge meaning.  It sounds so simple to say those trite little things...

Let it be.
Let go and let God.
Let go of the things that do not serve you.

You know, I love Bonehead.  Love the guy like crazy and part of the reason is sometimes amidst all of the downright corny things he says to me, he says something and it's like a golden nugget in a pile of corn. Seven years ago, I was struggling to let go of a friendship that has gone so South that almost every interaction left me emotionally exhausted.  I've always been a firm believer that ending friendships can be just as bad or worse than the breakup of a relationship.  I was struggling with it pretty hard and Bonehead said to me:

Sometimes in Life, there are things/people we have to let go in order for them to grow in their own way.

It sounds so simple. doesn't it?  That idea that we need to let people go in order for them to grow.  I won't lie, sometimes I've thought that it means that I was holding them back and that thought has made me sad.  But looking back at the times I've needed to let people in my life go...many times I've been a part of the problem as an enabler, sometimes acting like things were ok when they weren't was really hurting both of us, and sometimes losing me as a part of their life seemed to need to be a part of their rock bottom.

At the beginning of this year, I decided I was going to work towards becoming the person I want and feel I'm supposed to be.  I've been striving to let go of the past.  I've been working to live and let live when it comes to people and things who no longer serve me.  I've been working on my own walls, tearing down things that let me keep people out because I've realized that there are people out there who love me for me if I let them.

I ended a horrible emotionally abusive relationship seven months ago.  Working to heal after letting someone treat me so poorly for so long, I was forced to see how I accepted and tolerated things like manipulation, and chronic put-downs from him because I let other people who are close to me treat me in similar ways.

This sounds terrible, but I'm ready for people to let me go.  I've reached a point where I want people in my life who want to be around me.  I don't want to be tolerated.  I don't want to be in the lives of people who feel they need to be mean, manipulative or abusive in their interactions with me.  I don't want people who keep me around because of what they believe I can be, or what they know I can do for them.  I want people who want me around because they think I'm great just the way I am, but are willing to support me in whatever direction I want to go in as long as I am striving to improve myself as a person.

I believe there is a difference between a person with flaws and a flawed person; I don't want people who don't understand that there is a difference, people who can't understand that I have flaws, or people who can't love me in spite of my flaws in my life anymore.

I make mistakes every day and I am aware that sometimes those mistakes hurt people.  I no longer want people in my life who think that I am deliberately hurtful, people who find me malicious, or people who aren't willing to accept my apology and help me grow.

My goodwill has been abused lately and I've been left feeling butthurt about it.  In my heart of hearts, I believe that people who do that know what they are doing.  If you don't enjoy me, my sense of humor, my opinions, think I'm a good friend or a good person, or struggle to be there for me the ways you expect me to be there for you...don't take advantage of me by letting me pay for more than half the check because you're hard up for cash, borrow money from me, ask me for favors, or ask me to do things for you "as a friend" that you wouldn't do for me.

I just want people who want to be a part of my journey, not take me away from it, distract me, or let me travel their path and attempt to make it better while I don't travel my own.  I want people who love me for everything I am, everything I'm not, and seek to grow with me to be the best people we can be.  Perhaps I'm asking too much, but right now in my life...if you can't be happy for me, if I don't bring some kind of happiness/joy/friendship/laughter/love into your life, if you think ugly things about me, if the only good things you have to say about me are the things I do for you, please...let me go so that I may grow in my own way.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

What If Wednesday: What If I Could Fly

Today's Topic: What If...I could fly?

Only 5-10 minutes of writing....GO!

Sometimes, I like to think of all the things I could see if I could fly. 

The places I would travel with ease, without worrying about the financial restraints of the cost of a ticket or the stress of carry-on versus checked baggage and airport security.  

How much easier it would be to visit people I love instead of getting in a car and driving for hours.  Imagine if family trips could be made in a V.  Everyone flying in their own air space, in their own thoughts, with their own radios instead of fighting over which station.

I've never seen the Grand Canyon, but if I had a choice I think I would want to fly over it. 

I'd know for sure if I was a deep roller or a shallow roller.  

I don't know if I would have beautiful wings like an Angel, wings like a bat, or a cape like a Superhero.  With my luck, I'd have wings like a Pigeon; I really dislike pigeons. 

But, chances are, I'd be a worse flyer than I am a driver and run into a window. 

What would you do if you could fly?

Tickled Tuesday: My Kitchen Nightmare

Indecisively Blogging

It's Tickled Tuesday with the wonderful Indecisively Blogging!  I love her (seriously) and I'm so glad she started this link-up.  Today's Tickled Tuesday topic is...Cooking Mishaps. 

Have you seen any of the things that have come out of my kitchen?

Some of it is pretty, some of it looks tasty, some of it looks like a pile of shit in my kitchen has seen beautiful successes and great tragedies.  I'm fortunate to not be a horrible cook.  There have been some...not so awesome things that have come out of my kitchen, but nothing downright terrible. 

My Mother's kitchen, where I learned to cook and bake, has seen more mishaps than mine ever has.  Like the time I put in 3x more baking soda than I needed.  Or the time I turned the oven on to 350 and not realizing that the oven was set to "Broil".  Or the time we were making pizza, and I pulled the locking mechanism on her self cleaning oven and then it wouldn't unlock...that was a disaster.  

My Mother's kitchen is where I learned the basics, the how-to and the what nots.  My Mother's kitchen was my test kitchen.  As an adult, I haven't had so many hard times in my kitchen and seem to have learned my lesson for the most part. 

But there have been times something boiled over or I overcooked something.  The time I didn't use tinfoil and it stuck to the pan.   The countless times I've cooked grits and they've overflowed or exploded all over my microwave.  Or the really terrible time I forgot corn in the microwave in the middle of the summer...for days.  For some reason, there is a splatter on my ceiling that I vaguely remember being from chocolate pudding, though I can't remember how or why I would have been doing anything with pudding that would have caused that kind of projectile splatter.  The science projects that have been created in my fridge from meals forgotten or so unloved that no one could bear to eat the leftovers. 

More recently, there was the time I bought cheese I was unfamiliar with and tried to make frosting out of it and was unsuccessful but then couldn't bear to throw it away so I just kept trying, wasting expensive cheese, butter and ingredients on something that was simply never meant to be a dessert.  Or last Halloween, I made broken glass cupcakes and didn't cook the "glass" long enough and it melted into gooey sticky taffy on top of red velvet cupcakes.

I honestly haven't had as many mishaps as one might think.  Truth be told, the biggest disaster my kitchen has had happen to ME!

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Sunday Confessions: Lessons

Today's Sunday Confession prompt:

I've been struggling with what to write about lessons for over two hours.  Two hours of writing, deleting, writing, deleting.  Right now, it is 1:30 in the morning.  I am at a hotel 200 miles away from home.  I am surrounded by my siblings, my nephew and my mother.  I came here this weekend for my Grandma's internment.  

We finally laid Grandma to rest next to my Grandfather.  The man she had been married to for nearly 60 years when he died.  Their marriage, while not "perfect" from my outsider's standpoint, still leaves me in awe.  I can't stand myself most days, so 60 years with someone else is amazing to me. 

So here I sit with my nephew laying curled up at my side in his Super Mario Brothers bathrobe, listening to the gentle snores around me and I just keep thinking about everything that has happened this weekend. 

My concerns, stresses, anxieties, insecurities and basically my entire little freak out about seeing Bonehead for the first time in three years was completely unnecessary.  I was stressed for nothing.  He's wonderful and I'm lucky to have him in my life. 

My family doesn't get together and do too much like this anymore.  We all have so much going on, it isn't often that we all cram together and hang out, sleep together, ride around together.  It's really been a nice thing. 

When it comes to lessons, I'm sure life will keep on keeping on and I will keep learning them the hard way.  But right now...I'm pretty happy and content with the way things are going. 

I've been fighting so hard to learn the lessons I'm supposed to be learning, maybe I'm not taking enough time to just enjoy the things in life that just are.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

What If Wednesday: What If I were the opposite sex?

Today's Topic: What If...I were the opposite sex?

Only 5-10 minutes of writing....GO!

I know it isn't Sunday Confessions, but I have a confession to make... I have penis envy.  

Don't get me wrong, the general opinion seems to be that I have cojones either way and I wouldn't give up my chesticles for all of AC/DC's big balls, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't think life would be just a little bit better. 

If I were a boy, I might actually enjoy things like camping and the outdoors.  I know lots of women enjoy those things now...but I'm not one of them.  I never mastered the art of squatting.  In fact, I'm really bad at it.  You know why I really hate truly roughing it?  I mean, besides the bugs?  Because I always end up peeing on myself.  And I'm not into that. 

If I were a boy, I'd write my name in the snow.  And I'd be bitter about the fact that my first name doesn't have any i's to make it a challenge. 

If I were a boy, I'd totally know about things like fishing and boat and guns.  Not that I can't know about those things as a woman, but I feel like if I were a boy I wouldn't have to beg and plead to be taught like I feel I have to now. 

If I were a boy, I'd totally be the guy wearing whatever the hell I want.  I'd roll out of bed and go.  There would never be a question about what makes my butt look big. 

If I were a boy, I'd be topless all the time.  But I wouldn't ride around on a bike or a scooter without a shirt on because I can't figure out how anyone doesn't get hit by a bug in the chest doing that. 

I'm not going to jump on the #banbossy parade, but somewhere inside of me...I believe that if I were a boy my "bossy" side might have been honed and guided into becoming leadership skills instead of being shot down as character flaws.

If I were a boy, I'd totally spend more time burping and farting. 

If I were a boy, I would think my morning wood is a topic needing acknowledgement every morning. 

If I were a boy, I'd probably crack period jokes because I can't comprehend what days of cramps and tampons is really like instead of being grateful I was born with a penis.  And I wouldn't trust anything that bleeds for 3-5 days and doesn't die. 

If I were a boy...I'd totally sing Beyonce songs in the shower. 

If I were a boy, I would have probably taken a punch to the face by now. 

If I were a boy, I honestly don't know that I would be all that different, I'd just be working with different equipment. 

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Sunday Confessions: TIME

Thanks Everyone for showing up while I don't feel well!  Much appreciated! 


When I was born, my Mom was in labor for days.  She reminds me of that fact a lot.  I like to tell people that I don't run on regular time or reservation time, I run on Ashley time...which means it'll happen, I will get there, or I will get it done when I'm ready.  That being said, there is a part of me that feels like I'm running behind right now. 

I feel like I'm losing time.  I feel like time goes by faster and faster the older I get and sometimes when I look back I laugh at how my hair has changed as time went by, marking each time in my life with a different color.  Now, I feel like I'm running out of time before hair dye becomes a necessity not an accessory, and I need to grow up and be someone I fought to be when I was younger and don't want to be now. 

Me at 21.  Yup, even Hot Ash has made a duck face.  I wish I could remember what I was using on my hair at the time.  But...check out my rainbow eye shadow!

Ahhh, 24.  Recently dumped, decided to see if blondes really do have more fun.  

25.  Can you see the pink streaks?  I loved them so much. 

On my 26th birthday.  I feel like I looked so orange.

I feel like I'm running out of time to do certain things that took me years to be brave enough to do.  I decided to put pink streaks in my hair at 24, now at 28 I miss my pink hair but feel like I should be more professional.  I love my lip piercings...a Valentine's Day gift to myself this year, but I think about getting a second job and feel like maybe getting them wasn't the most practical thing from an employment perspective.  I wish I would have just been silly and crazy as a teen instead of constantly trying to be older and "mature".

I feel like I keep learning lessons the hard way.  Lessons I should have learned by now because I've made them a time or two already, but somehow I didn't see that the situations were the same. 

I'm struggling with feeling like I'm supposed to have my life "together".  I have so many friends who are married, having children, buying homes.  When I was 20 years old, I wanted to own my own home by 25.  I'm a few years past that now and honestly, I like my home and my living situation but I'm still disappointed because I feel like that is an avenue my life was supposed to have gone down by down.  I would even go so far as to say I'm purposely failing adulthood, and feeling guilty about it. 

I recently saw a meme that said "Be the person you needed when you were younger".  I'm not sure how to take that.  Somehow, I feel like when I was younger I spent so much time trying to be what I needed for myself.  I was always trying to take care of things.  I worried about adult things that I didn't need to worry about.  I was always trying to be in charge, more mature, take care of everyone and everything.

Now I'm 28 years old, doing all of the things I was too "mature" to do before because I WANT to do them.  However, I'm pushing so hard to have these experiences that I feel like some sad, desperate woman clinging to her youth.   Not to say I'm not still young, but damn...there's so much I wish I would have done before time was important.  I want to be the person I should have been when I was younger.  

I really miss my pink hair.

Friday, April 4, 2014

Secret Subject Swap: I'm usually a nice person, until I'm not.

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week, 14 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there: Baking In A Tornado The Momisodes Stacy Sews and Schools Follow me home . . . Someone Else’s Genius Confessions of a part-time working mom Dribbles and Grits Impoverished Vegan Spatulas on Parade Dinosaur Superhero Mommy More Than Cheese and Beer Evil Joy Speaks Juicebox Confession Climaxed

My subject is “I'm usually a nice person, but when...”. It was submitted by Michele at Follow Me Home. Here goes:

I'm usually a nice person, but when people don't take the time to really get to know me, they tend to get the wrong idea.

I first noticed it in my early 20's while working at a job I still consider to be the worst job I ever had.  Knowing that it was at the worst job I ever had doesn't really temper how hurt I was when a coworker turned to me and told me I was probably glad to hear about someone's misfortune.  I don't remember exactly what had happened, but I do remember it was something very terrible and my coworker looked at me and said, "I bet that makes you happy".   Since then, there have been multiple instances where people have expressed surprise at me for the nicer things I do, or thought something terrible about me.

It isn't really anyone's fault for thinking I'm someone else, and I've spent a lot of time asking myself why.  I think the worst part is when people assume I'm some mean, hard-ass, horrible human being.  It hurts when people think the worst of you.

I'm usually a nice person, but when I have conversations with people I swear a lot.   Everyone knows I'm a giant potty mouth.   I'm totally that chick dropping F-bombs (accidentally!) in front of your kids.   My grandma used to tell me it made me sound hard.  I guess there was some truth to that because there are people who think I'm really a badass.   I'm not, I just say fuck a lot.

I'm usually a nice person, but when it comes to personal relationships I'm an introvert and a flake.   Isn't that an awesome blend?  Like...if you're my friend you need to know that I'm an introvert suffering from what can be debilitating social anxiety, and I will cancel on you if I can't seem to bring myself to get over whatever is going on in my head.  I'm also super forgetful, so if we make loose, tentative plans I'm going to need to be reminded or I'll forget or get busy doing something else.  I'm not trying to blow people off.  Sometimes after I've been incredibly social I need time to recuperate, it isn't because I don't want to spend time doing things with people it is that I've exhausted my limits of social interactions and I need time to regenerate myself.  Sometimes, being able to hang out with me is really a matter of first come, first serve.

I'm usually a nice person, but when someone has done me wrong I won't feel sorry for them when they are put into a similar situation.  I believe that what we send out into the world with our intent and by our deeds is what we can expect to come back to us.  This is not a new idea... the Golden Rule to treat others as we would like to be treated, the Rule of Three which states that whatever energy one puts out into the world whether positive or negative shall be returned times three, or the most abused term...Karma.  That being said, when someone has done something horrible to me and later finds themselves in an incredibly similar situation to one I was in,  I feel terrible because I know what that is like but there is often a part of me that feels a sense of vindication and justice at knowing that they now know and understand what I was feeling when they were so horrible.   Unfortunately, people often mistake these feelings as Schadenfreude, or purely getting joy from the misfortunes of others.

I'm usually a nice person, but when I say things that sound insensitive or sarcastic it is usually due to some concern or fear of my own, not out of malicious or hurtful intent.  I'm a terrible communicator.  I always thought I was a really good communicator but as I've gotten older I realize that I abuse sarcasm.   I have said terrible things at terrible times, sometimes it is purely open-mouth insert-foot syndrome, but more often than not what I say is directly related to something I'm concerned or afraid of about the situation.  People think I'm strong and I don't know fear or weakness, the truth is that I'm afraid just like other people but somewhere along the line I decided it was weak to say something as simple as "I'm scared".

Sometimes, this is exactly how I feel

I'm usually a nice person, but when people hurt my feelings, especially if they lie to me or abuse my goodwill, I shut down.  I'm not a confrontational person and I don't know how to communicate my feelings.  In hindsight, I sometimes feel like it is because my feelings weren't validated growing up.   I don't know why I have that idea, but I genuinely feel like I was often treated like what I was feeling was inappropriate.   Now as an adult, I have a hard time confronting another person when they do something hurtful because I feel like I shouldn't feel that way, or like I'm wrong for feeling that way so I choose instead to back away from the person.  If I try to have a conversation and sense backlash, instead of being really listened to or discussing my feelings I won't try again.  Not being willing or able to tell someone what hurt or bothered you means issues go unresolved.   I've lost friendships over things that probably could have been worked out had I said something.  But had I said something, things still would have never been the same because in my experience people rarely change and will often do the same thing again even knowing it is hurtful.   I have been used by people for material things, money, even things like time and energy.  It's unfortunately very kind of sad.

I'm usually a nice person, but when you abuse the good person I strive so hard to be, you might just find that instead of choosing to be someone who isn't nice I will choose to maintain my dignity.   I'm usually a nice person, but when people treat me poorly I will choose to treat them like they do not exist instead of letting them ruin my peace.  In choosing to be rid of someone's poor treatment, I will choose to eradicate them from my life and remove myself from theirs as much as possible.  I'm usually a nice person, but when people mistake me for being a terrible person it hurts way more than I let people know because I don't think I am...I just think I'm a poor communicator who is misunderstood.  I'm usually a nice person, but when people don't take the time to get to know me deeper than sarcasm and swearing...I'm a nice person they'll never see.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

What If Wednesday: What If I Never Met You?

Today's Topic: What If...I never met you?

Only 5-10 minutes of writing....GO!


What if I had never met you?

What if I hadn't taken the initiative to message you?

What if you hadn't been who you are, where you're from, where you're at?

Do you ever wonder that?  

I don't consciously appreciate you as much as I should; I'm big enough, or terrible enough, to be able to admit that.  Truth be told, I can't imagine my life without you because I totally take you for granted and just assume that you will always be here even though I know better.  It's not that we haven't been apart, but I've always known that in those times when we weren't talking that I could have reached out at any given time and you might have held me accountable for not being in touch, but you still would have been there no matter what.  And somehow, we always just seem to fall back into stride with each other like we never stopped walking the same path.

I know that you love me more than I've ever loved you.  And as terrible as it sounds, it's a good thing because if I loved you as much as you love me nothing would ever get done.  I tell you everything.  You know how I am and how I "work" better than anyone.  Sometimes, I think you can see right through me.

I don't know that you've changed my life.  So much has happened in my life since you and I met, and I don't know that the changes necessarily had anything to do with you.  I don't think you brought about any of my changes in the last few years but I think you, in your way, eased the transition for me. 

Looking back, I don't know what my life would have been like all these years without you.  I think there would have been more confusion.  I would have learned more lessons the hard way without you there to talk it over with me, letting me struggle the way I have to in order to learn while quietly supporting me.  There are times where your presence has been so huge to me, that I don't know if I would have survived without you.

I don't know what life would be like if I had never met you, but I'm glad I don't know.