Locked Out

I just had a long quiet drive home which was plenty of time for me to think of exactly what I wanted to say about my experiences tonight. I learned a serious lesson in a somewhat humorous way. In retrospect, locking my keys in my car is a pretty funny thing. Its laughable because its something we’ve all done and its something we all smack ourselves in the forehead over, yet the whole ordeal helped me to realize a thing or two about myself. So my story begins….

Shortly before getting off work my friend announced to me that she no longer had any intentions of going to this costume party with me. I heard excuse-excuse-excuse, reason-reason-reason, but behind all of the rationales and hoopla was the most simple of all, “I just don’t want to go.” I had this feeling all day she was going to change her mind, but no matter how much preparation I had for an immanent let down, I still found myself disappointed when she confirmed my suspicions. I was looking forward to going to this party because of several reasons. I knew it would be an opportunity for me to meet some new people, it would be something different for me to do aside from the typical Friday night hangout, and lets face it, its not often that I get the chance to attend a Thanksgiving inspired costume party.

Upon arriving home and seeing my costume I had laid out before I left for work, a determination built up inside me. I didn’t need my friend to hold my hand just so I could go to the party. Granted going with a friend is safer and makes socializing easier, but I didn’t care. I had wanted to go to this party and I wasn’t about to let anyone stop me, however, there were a few things that had me severely apprehensive about going. For instance, I wasn’t too familiar with the party’s location and I would have to find it by myself. I was also pretty worried about how late I was leaving. Leaving late meant arriving late and I wondered if anyone would even still be there or if I would just be showing up to the party as everyone was saying their goodbyes. There were so many times on the long drive down there that I thought about just getting off the freeway, turning around, and coming home…

My mind wrestled the whole way down there but I finally made a deal with myself. If I could find the place where the party was, then I would at least go in and not let my costume go to waste. Much to my surprise I found it without any trouble (GPS didn’t send me to the middle of no where for once). But then came the next big issue. I had to work up the courage to actually go in by myself. I sat in my car and watched other cars full of people pull up, park, and walk in as if it was nothing. Once more I made a deal with myself. I sent a text to one of the hosts of the party and decided that if he didn’t respond to my text (assuring me I was at the right house) before the half hour struck, I was going to just pack up and go home… the moment I made that deal my phone sounded, “come on in!”

And right there… that above paragraph is where my night took a turn for the worse (although I wouldn‘t realize it till much later). Because it was amidst this trepidation of whether or not to go in that my keys sat ever so peacefully in my ignition. The excitement and motivation to head in quick before I lost the nerve left me locking my door blissfully unaware of the events that would befall me later in the evening.

Here is realization number one. Girlfriends, friends, wingmen, whatever you want to call them, they are like a security blanket. They make me feel warm and protected when I am surrounded by people I don’t know. As per the norm I think I fair much better in social settings when the ratio of people I know to people I don’t know is about even. However, when there are more people I don’t know, its harder for me to really relax and enjoy myself. I am guessing that this is probably normal and that most people would feel the same, regardless of that I don’t like it. I don’t like the idea of needing to drag security blankets along, kicking and screaming to things that I want to do just so I can feel more comfortable. No. Instead I am going to just continue to push the edge on my comfort zone and learn to get the most out of these social settings, in hopes that one day I wont need any blanket at all.

Aside from my social anxieties, the party was fun and I was especially grateful to see that even though I had arrived so late, that the party was still in full swing. I enjoyed meeting new people and seeing some old friends at the same time. As the night winded down and I looked at the clock, that long drive home stuck out in my head and I thought it best to get going. After making long goodbyes I began to pilfer through my purse… first I felt panic as my hand searched through the contents of my bag and found nothing that felt like a set of keys. I removed every item from my purse and even looked around in the couch cushions but to no avail. Then I felt pure dread as my mind wandered back to those brief hesitant moments upon my arrival. I began preparing myself as I walked to my car for the possibility that was ahead of me, but I silently prayed nonetheless for a different outcome. Yet as the dome light flicked on once I lifted the handle, there my keys were nestled in the ignition.

My mind began the process of filtering my options when how conveniently a cop was parked in front of the house. I don’t know that I have ever been so grateful to have a cop called for a noise disturbance. I explained the situation and asked him for some help, he informed me that he didn’t have the proper equipment but would radio someone that would. I could have gone back in the house to wait for the other officer to arrive but by this point I was feeling utter humiliation. Sixteen-year-olds who just got their license lock their keys in their car or eighty-year-old senior citizens that are borderline senile. I don’t fit either of those bills so what is my excuse? Am I just that stupid?

So there I sat alone in the freezing cold. The cop that I had asked for help saw me and took pity on me. He came over and made small talk with me. It was nice of him to keep me company until his fellow officer arrived. The twenty minutes the two cops spent trying to unlock my car was unsettling. My heart sank each and every time he yanked the tool upward only to see that my lock button did not follow suit. I prayed and prayed and prayed for a blessing. I just wanted to come home. Then I felt despair when each cop began to apologize… their attempts had failed, I needed to resort to another option. The second officer offered I call a lock smith which all that screamed to me were dollar signs, in other words, money I don’t have to spend. He began to ask me if there was anyone I could call… here is realization number two.

My eyes burned and my voice shook as I tried to explain to him that I didn’t live near by and to ask for someone to come and get me at this hour was pretty unreasonable. Maybe it is my pride that stopped me… or maybe I really just don’t trust anyone enough. The cop could see how unsettled I was and he ran through a pretty typical list. “What about family? A brother? Your parents?” I was shaking my head. How would I explain to them as to how to get here? If I could even wake them up… How could I ask any one of them to hop in their car at 1:30 in the morning, to drive just under an hours time, navigate to a location they were unfamiliar with, and pick me up all because I was so hell bent on going to this party…. No. “What about a friend? Do you have any friends that could come get you or bring you the spare?”… My friends had somewhere else to be tonight. And in that instant it all came back to trust. If I can’t trust people with my little needs, how can I trust them with my big needs?

So many times in my life has my trust been abused that long ago I settled into being self reliant. It just seems easier to count on myself. I can’t rely on the word of others or the commitments that have so falsely been advertised. It is far too damaging to need people that aren’t dependable, especially for someone like me who is so self critical. I blame myself for nearly every injustice that befalls me, as if there were some action or misdeed that left me deserving of such letdowns.

I felt so alone. Each name played through my head like a list, each one crossed off as I answered, “no.” I had no one to call. As much normalcy as I could muster in my tone, I politely asked the officer to call me a lock smith. As he went about radioing someone, a neighbor from two houses away waltzed on over, having been watching the whole scene unveil, and offered his help in the matter. He scurried off and returned with some tools. Some pieces of wood, a screw driver, and a long, thin piece of metal. The two cops noticed him working on my door, they got out of their cars once more and gave him a hand. Inch by inch he pried my door open just enough to slide the metal piece in. I watched from the driver’s side window as he maneuvered and pulled, tugged and bent, shifted and lifted. I watched as the tip of the metal hovered over the U on the automatic lock button… never has the sound of my doors unlocking sounded so sweet. I could have cried… Here I found it easier to trust these three complete strangers to help me in my time of need than my loved ones way back home. I hugged the neighbor, he was my blessing that I had prayed so hard for.

There may be some greater lesson at hand here. I don’t know that being interdependent and relying on people is a bad idea, but maybe I still haven’t figured out how to filter who I rely on and who I don’t. Maybe my problem is my high expectations of people or my tendency to be centrally focused or self absorbed. Perhaps I just need more practice and exercise so I can quit stumbling over these life hurtles.  I was locked out of my car on this night, but now I feel as though I am locked myself out from the people that could potentially hurt me.

If you knew how sick you made me...

Like a virus you plague me. Love is a sickness that I liken to a bacterial infection. With the proper tender, love, and care (and maybe some antibiotics) I can overcome the sickness. I can get better. I can move one. But with you it is different.

You are ever present in my heart and in my mind. Like the virus that you are there are times when I feel fine, when I feel as though I have escaped the hold you have on me, but that is when you are dormant and hiding within the farthest reaches of my heart. All it takes is a moment of weakness for that sickness to resurface and once more I will find myself incapable of evading the haunting memories. My senses are bombarded with things that reminds me of you. Everywhere I go I see places that we used to frequent, each one holding a unique story that can be recalled without much effort. I hear songs playing on the radio that we used to sing loudly and terribly in between fits of laughter. I can still smell that cologne I helped you pick out from the department store.

Like any virus there are triggers. There are certain circumstances in which the particular ailment thrives and flares up. How I wish I knew what caused me to lament this way because if I knew what was prompting such nostalgia and sorrowful longing, then I could better protect myself from it. I could prevent these episodes of sickness… and maybe then we could be friends.

I’ve tried every remedy I can think of. I thought maybe seeing you or even being near you was the source of all the sickness in my heart, so I tried removing you from my life, but that only seemed to make things worse. Then I tried doses of medicine in the form of dating new people, and in true medicine form, it helped alleviate some of the symptoms and I felt better for a little bit, but did it kill the virus? Not even close. I even tried a bigger disease, maybe one that would be more potent than the virus you have inflicted within me, but that effort backfired and I found my heart aching for two persons instead of just one.

You are my virus, the illness for which my heart perpetually pangs for. As with any virus there is no cure. The only thing I can do is get used to this aliment, accept the fact it wont ever go away, and do my best to keep myself healthy and happy in between the bouts of sadness and yearning. Sometimes I wonder what you would do if you knew how sick you made me…

Seriously, go eat a burger...

I am currently writing live from my adult development class. After reviewing some of my blogs it has come to my attention that for the most part my blogs are ULTRA depressive. I’m aware that most of my inspiration to write is derived from negative thoughts or feelings, so its not wonder that reading my blog and knowing nothing about me other then what I’ve written, it would be safe to assume that I am clinically depressed and in need of some prozac… however, for my friends who know me I would hope they would think I’m rather lively and cheerful MOST of the time. So I figured a random blog about cheery things was in order…

So today I was really hoping to get my hair colored. I am breaking with tradition this fall. Generally speaking girls tend to dye their hair much darker in the colder months, which I have religiously followed this tradition for several years but this year I wanted to do something different. I am planning almost a complete overhaul and lightening my hair color to a shade similar to Lauren Conrad’s. Much to my dismay, however, I wont likely be able to start this process until next week.

Let’s see… I am trying really hard to find cheerful things to write about right now. I’m actually in a decent mood, but finding that silver lining is becoming increasingly difficult as the semester winds down. I’ve all but accepted the fact that I’m likely going to fail my abnormal psychology class. This is due in part to lack of attendance and enthusiasm to study… woops. I’ll have to just take it again next semester. I guess the silver lining on that is, hey, at least my dad doesn’t check to see what classes he’s paying for so I can easily avoid any lectures from him on that matter. Also I wont have to purchase the book for the class next go around, because hey, I still have it.

Um, good news… All my financial troubles and worries can lighten up. Well, at least there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, I don’t think I’ll be able to breath until all my debt is consolidated in the form a subsidized student loan. I have great friends that are willing to help me figure this kind of stuff out, because I really have no idea what I’m doing. I hate that I am almost 24 and I still feel like I know nothing about the world.
Let’s see, I guess the last good thing I can really think of right now is that although I haven’t worked out in about two weeks, and I’m not really happy with how my body looks, I am grateful for the fact that my body still looks decent in spite of what I’ve eaten as of late. I keep making excuses about working out. I’ve been pretty sick lately and its really hard to find the motivation to get to the gym when I have to carry around a box of tissues… I don’t think the people at the gym really want me there in my current germ-spreading condition. But! I’m guessing I will be well enough on Monday that I can’t make any more excuses. Its time to stop being a fatty… but In and Out is just so freaking good. Those burgers and fries make me so happy, I mean they don’t help me fit into my swim suit but for that moment in time, they make me happy. I think maybe that’s why I’m in a good mood, I am still flying off that burger high from last night.

My friend advised me that writing should always have a lesson or a moral, that way people don’t feel like they have just wasted 10 minutes of their life reading you dribble on about nothing important. So here is my moral, there are still good things in this world even though finals week is rapidly approaching, burgers from In and Out are on that list… seriously, go eat a burger.

Not waving, but Drowning...

I feel so lonely. The worst part about being lonely, other then the fact that you feel like no one in this world understands or cares for you, is the fact that it is self inflicted. I know that the words and comfort I so desire are only a moment away should I ask for it… but there in lies the problem. I have to ask.

Perhaps I am so self absorbed and central focused that I have this belief that those who are closest to me should be able to know and detect when I am sad or when I need them, but I hope that isn’t the case. I like to think I know better than to expect people to read my mind. I think the real problem is that I am just too damn prideful to ask for help.

I depict this aura that tells everyone around me that I am strong, I am capable, I am self sufficient, and that I can get by on my own. Perhaps if I keep feeding this lie that I don’t need anyone, someday it will be true. I think I’ve adopted this mantra because of the amount of times I have been let down by people in my life or better yet, the amount of times I’ve let myself down.

Maybe I am self absorbed, because it always comes back to me, it is ALWAYS my fault. After all, I can’t really pin my disappointments on others, even if I was there for them when they needed it, or if I dropped everything to be at their beck and call, or if I went above and beyond to do them a favor without asking anything in return… the fact of the matter is that I chose to trust them, therefore any pain or discomfort I feel as a result of their actions, is of my own consequence, which isn’t quite a spoon full of sugar to help the medicine go down.

You would think by now I’d have it down to a science as to who I can or can’t trust. I wish these day to day interactions came with some sort of manual or that people wore signs, “I have a nice smile but beware, I have a 75% chance of breaking your heart.” That kind of information would be nice to know because all the time I spend getting to know someone, trusting them, being crushed when they abuse my trust, and then all the self healing, it could all be averted and better spent on something else… maybe homework.

I know its silly, stupid, and irrational… but I feel like maybe because I am so sparing with when I ask for help, that it really isn’t too much to comply. I know that amidst all my sorrows and this lonesomeness that I currently find myself drowning in, that if a friend were to come to me and ask for help with something, I would help them to the best of my abilities and within my means. When I say it is rare for me to ask for help, I don’t mean with simple things like homework projects or throwing a party, I mean with this emotional dirty laundry that I don’t necessarily like to air in front of everyone. I don’t need all my friends to know that deep down beneath this tough exterior is a tender heart that just wants to be loved and cared for. I don’t need people to know how vulnerable I really am or how easy it is to hurt me… I don’t like giving people that sort of power over me.

Love is like giving someone a map to all the places in your heart that will hurt you the very most and trusting them to avoid those danger zones. How foolish it feels when someone veers right into one of those places where X marks the spot and you are the one that handed them the map that guided them there…

There is a poem I read a couple years ago in my poetry class. I wish I still had the book or at the very least could remember the title or the author. Regardless of my inability to recollect, the poem is very fitting for the state I am in now. It is about a man who swims out into the seas on his own, at some point he is so far out that when his friends look on him it seems as though he is waving to them, when in fact he is drowning. Perhaps I have swam so far out on my own that the ones I care about most think I’m only waving.