Walking Away

Walking away from something you've put your heart into is never easy. It's part of your history, a chapter in your book, a frame that hangs on your wall of memories. No one ever knows when to walk away... sometimes you linger because it's comfortable and easy, other times you stay for fear of what the future holds. But those who are able to do it successfully open themselves up to paths of endless possibilities, as a friend of mine once pointed out.

There are people in this world who will make the decision to walk away easy for you. Whether its with unkind words, thoughtless actions, or inconsideration for your feelings, the more times you get beaten down the less likely you are to get back in the ring. I have spent the past year haunted by faces and voices who have both intentionally and unintentionally done everything in their power to rain on my happiness. I have encountered selfishness in it's ugliest form and a lack of graciousness from those who I have gone above and beyond for. I've tried my best to avoid some of the most pathetic and sad cases of people, those who really don't have a clue and never will, but somehow, someway, their faces manage to resurface time and time again. And finally one recent morning, I woke up empty. I realized that caring too much can be a burden. I began to understand that there is truth to the idea that people don't realize what they have until it's gone. I'm reluctant to admit that it's better to be the bigger person and do the right thing, even if it's not appreciated.

And I'm walking away. I'm leaving behind 5 years of memories, pain, love, passion, commitment, strife, confusion, frustration, success and failure to start anew. No one likes change.

I'm scared, I'm sad, but I'm doing what's best for me. I hope any of you who may find yourselves in this position have the strength to do it. It's both the weakest and most powerful I've ever felt in my life.

But as my mother told me last night, "You are not given things you cannot handle."

After Awhile.

I came across this jotted down in a journal, in the midst of cleaning my old bedroom at my parents house this weekend.  I thought the message was beautiful, something I needed to hear at this point in my life, and wanted to share.  

I hope you find it as inspiring as I did.

"After Awhile" by Veronica Shoffstall

After awhile you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't mean security,

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open, with the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child,

And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for paths.

After awhile you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So plant your garden and decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure... that you really are strong... and you really do have worth.

Paying It Forward.

Since I've started writing this blog it's been repeatedly called to my attention that some of my entries are on the darker side.  I've been called depressing, inspiring, deep, introspective, thoughtful, passionate, and intense, just to name a few.  Friends and strangers have privately approached me, thanking me for saying the words and thoughts that plague their mind but they fear to speak out loud.  

I wanted to share with you all a few lines of an e-mail that was written to me.  This year has been particularly difficult on many different levels, and I've been dealing with several internal struggles that I am still yet to conquer.  When I received this e-mail a few weeks ago, it somehow said all the things I needed to hear at the moment... things that I want to pass on to my readers who may deal with some of the same issues as myself.  I am only sharing a piece of it to keep in anonymous for the writer, but this is the piece that touched my heart.  I suppose this is my way of paying it forward...

"...  I think you have something inside you that may be special beyond what you see in the mirror.  You are an amazing lady...  Love love love... kisses kisses kisses... only joy to you.  Only love and everything that is good in this world to you.  Take it easy on yourself."

My response was brief:

"Thank you.  For seeing something in my that few have, for always having a kind word and a thoughtful gesture to share, and for making me feel like someone sees past the surface layer... a feat that I have struggled to make others see, or at least acknowledge, for longer than I care to admit.  

It means more than words can express."

We often take for granted that people know how we feel.  We don't tell them we love them, we don't tell them how important they are, and we sometimes don't even pay attention to them until it's too late... the hurt has been set in and the damage has been done.  So for all of you who have written to me, or have simply read and felt a connection, I encourage you to share those feelings with the people important to YOU.  Let the people in your lives know how much they mean.  Be aware.  Don't ever give up on someone or something you believe in, and don't think the gestures have to be grand to be effective.  Spend a few minutes each day, or at least each week, shooting out an e-mail or a text or a phone call.  

Words are the most powerful weapon to ever exist.  Pair those words with an action... And suddenly you are in charge of your own destiny.  

The Great Debate: Heart Vs. Head

There is something that physically happens to the heart when it is stimulated.  During cases of extreme sadness, the heart will swell to a point where it pushes against your throat and your stomach, forcing all parts of your body to virtually become overwhelmed and shut down in despair.  During moments of extreme happiness, the heart beats fast and furious, sending rushes of elation throughout the body and causing all organs to shift gears into overdrive.  Different things can stimulate this reaction, but most of the time it stems from some form of love or heartbreak.

I had the pleasure of spending time with both family and friends these past few days, many of whom I have not seen or enjoyed quality time with in months.  Being with them reminded me of how it felt to be happy, how it felt to be understood, and how it felt to not feel alone.  It was wonderful.  But as I drove out of the city tonight, my heart began to feel heavy.  Tears welled in my eyes as my latest CD obsession blared on the stereo, and I found myself angry for letting the worried and confused thoughts in my mind cancel out the joy felt in my heart in time spent with loved ones.

It made me wonder which of the two organs are more powerful, the head or the heart?  Do you follow your heart, the small flutter that beats and rushes butterflies of excitement to your stomach?  Or do you cautiously steer down the logical path in your head, avoiding sharp turns and dark territories that may prove to be exciting and dangerous, for fear of the pain they could inevitably cause?  As a society we are conditioned to follow the safe path.  Our brains reinforce right from wrong and we stubbornly march to the beat of the familiar drum, oddly comforted by the obvious image that lies at the end of the road.  Why?  Why not take chances?  Why not put ourselves out there to feel and love and hurt and cry and laugh and hate and forgive and forget and move on and walk away and come back and regret and rejoice....

Why does the brain always play the role of the angel and the heart of the devil?  Where does the happy medium come into play?  Relationships aren't meant to be scripted.  They are meant to be full of passion, chemistry, trust, and support.  Friendships aren't meant to be ordinary.  They should be an escape, a breath of fresh air, an honest look in the mirror and a place to rest our heads.  

As a dancer, one of my favorite quotes was always "Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music."  Well, there is always music playing in my head, and sometimes it drowns out the thoughts that are trying desperately to convince me not to say and do things.  Does that mean others think I'm insane?  Probably.

I live life for passion.  I live for those swellings of my heart, those rapid flutters, that squeamish stomach ache, the waterfall of tears and the loud rhythm of laughter.  I live for my heart, not for my head.

In my opinion, it's the only way to live.

LOST

A few weeks ago I was explaining my obsession for the show LOST to a friend of mine who had never watched it.  She asked me, "Is it one of those shows that makes you think about your life?"  To which I responded, "NO.  It's the exact opposite.  It's the one hour every week that I DON'T think about my life.  There is so much happening on the show I simply can't."

After watching yet another heart-pounding episode tonight I started to think about why it is I love this show so much.  Yes, Sawyer is easy on the eyes and makes my heart skip a beat every time he smiles, and yes, I can't help but stare at how flawless Juliet and Kate's hair and skin always seem to be no matter how many days they've gone without showering, but it's worlds more than just the superficial aspects.

This show is the ultimate escape.  It stimulates all of your senses and challenges even the most simple minds to dig a little deeper and think a little harder. If you stop and consider the tragic premise on which the show is based, and how the majority of the world has an intense fear of flying, it's amazing how vast the audience is.  

I think it's because deep down, everyone wants to find their own "island."  Not necessarily in the sense that they want to be chased by smoke monsters or tortured in cages, but let's be honest, the chance to have a fresh start is pretty damn appealing.  Every character on that show was given a second chance at life, an opportunity to reinvent themselves, regardless of how successful they were at living it once the time came.  The internal struggles that we watched week after week are something we can all relate to, because everyone can find a piece of themselves in the angels and demons that reside on the shoulders of each character.

There is solace and comfort in the idea that we as individuals have a greater purpose in life.  We gravitate towards others who challenge us, who feed into and off of our deepest thoughts.  But then we turn and run from these people, who hold mirrors to our faces and force us to see reality.  In the end, we always end up looking back in wonder.  

We'll cling to those who hurt us, often with blurred vision and a forgetful heart, searching for an answer that may never come.  We avoid those who know us, because nothing is scarier than someone who can see right through you.  And yet we ache for those who look right through us, as though we aren't even there.

Huh.  I guess LOST does make me think about my life after all.   Now, I need to go lay down and let my overheated brain cool off for the night.  Until next week...

All Grown Up

From the first encounter with disappointment at a young age, we are taught that things happen for a reason. We are led to believe that if we are good people, we will be treated well by others. We think the people we fall in love with will love us in return, and that our hearts won't steer us wrong. We plan our lives from high school through college, from age 20 to age 40, from our first job through retirement, believing that we will live and abide by the blueprints we have laid.

And as we grow up... we realize we were wrong about everything.

If someone would have told me what life would be like at 27 I would have laughed at them, or maybe even slapped them.  Being the ultimate planner and control freak, I was convinced by age 16 that I knew exactly what I wanted, precisely where I was headed, and what direction my life would take. Now, I sit on a daily basis and try to wrap my head around reality. I replay details and memories in my head, trying to understand how I, being the "smart girl" that I am, could have been wrong in what felt like the right decisions.  I think about the choices I made, wondering if I've given enough to my career, debating the pros and cons of not following a traditional route, and feeling like I somehow missed the boat that everyone else jumped on years ago.  I consider myself old, and not because of how I look or act, but because MY ship sailed a course that bypassed youth and went straight to adulthood.

I feel alone, and grown ups aren't supposed to feel alone. They're supposed be strong and reliable, taking charge of situations and not wallowing in self-pity. Grown ups have bills to pay, mouths to feed, functions to attend, warm bodies to sleep with at night and responsibilities to uphold.  Some people are forced into this role way too early; others never quite make it there.  Is that really fair?  Why are some able to selfishly extend their youth, make a mess of things around them and leave the clean up for the unfortunate ones who stepped up to the plate way before their time? 

Why do I feel punished for being who I am, an alien amongst my peers, struggling to find a place to belong and a life that I'm comfortable with?  At some point the frustration of giving and giving to everyone and everything, just to receive so little in return, pools like black liquid in my heart, filling the gaping hole yet leaving me completely empty.

We live in a world plagued with "Peter Pan Syndrome."  The economy is a mess, monogamy is virtually dead, you can stay in school forever earning various degrees, thanks to the internet people can extend high school drama well into their mid-life crisis, and through all of this we put the blame of our misfortunes on everyone but ourselves.  Words are weapons, full of accountability, because somehow, somewhere, it was documented and publicly displayed on a website, blog, or social networking community.  In a sense, everyone has reverted back to a child-like existence, full of excuses and not willing to take responsibility for their actions.   Any chance to take the easy road is pounced on, no reason needed, because it will not be challenged.  It's accepted.

Well I will not accept it.  I will not apologize for being a grown up.  I am a fighter, and I shall not back away from real-life, even as it throws heart-wrenching, painful curve balls that crush my spirit and my soul.  I will not feel sorry for making decisions that do not please other people.  I refuse to take the easy road, for on the easy road there is nothing to learn.  There is no excitement, no spontaneity.  Without challenge, there is no true success.  Without suffering and adversity, there is no appreciation.  Without loss, there is no gain.

Most importantly, I will not settle.  Whatever my "grown-up" life is comprised of, it will be so full of passion and beauty that when I wake in the morning my chest will ache with joy.  And for everyone still hanging out on the playground, running from the Grim Reeper of Childhood, clinging to the Ghost of Youthful Past... you don't know what you're missing.

A jar of snow

Mother Nature struck once again last night, showering the city with fine crystals of snow that settled into powdery blankets.   I sat on a small side street in the Village, noticing how the tall street lamps highlighted the swirling patterns and clean sparkle of the falling snow, and wished for a moment that I could bottle that moment the way we collect sand from our favorite shores.

Snow is the most fickle of all the weather personalities.  As each flake falls we are filled with the excitement and anticipation of what is to come.  Standing covered, wet and cold, our body temperature rises, our cheeks flush, and our inner child comes out to play.  The snow then settles, nestling itself on sidewalks, trees, grass, buildings, and any place it finds a welcoming surface.  Bit by bit these flakes bond together, forming pristine layers.  Soon we are gazing out at a winter wonderland, a sight that brings peace to even the most active minds and heavy hearts.  We long for a moment to stop time... take this image and store it in a place where it can never melt.

But soon after the last flake has fallen, the peacefulness is broken.  Plows burst in spreading sand and salt, reclaiming their territory, disrupting the picturesque serenity.  Temperatures rise, footprints stomp through, snow turns to slush, and soon our Norman Rockwell painting has turned into a cold gray battleground.  Until one day, the snow is simply gone.  All that remains are small piles that have survived the beating sun, and serve as reminders of what was once there.

The city in the snow provides a false sense of security.  It calms our mind and eases our hearts, but it's always temporary.  Moments seem more intense due to the dramatic background, but we are not to be fooled... the snow may make everything beautiful, but what lies underneath remains the same.

This will most likely be the last big snowfall of the winter.  It's now March, and we sit eager with anticipation for the first buds on the trees to blossom, hear the birds begin to chirp again, see the butterflies emerge from their cocoons, and shed our bulky coats, hats, and gloves for t-shirts, flips flops, and sun-kissed skin.  

But on my memory mantle will always sit that jar of snowfall.  Those moments that I bottled up for eternity.  The images of winter that brought hope to my heart and warmth to my soul.  

Enjoy the snow day...