To whom it may concern... but not really

Tonight I took a stroll down memory lane. I’ve been unable to sleep tonight as this most recent of rejections has my heart under arrest, flitting about in my chest as if I drank a red bull then hopped into bed. Its annoying really, to be as tired as I am with a full day of work looming over head, and not a wink of sleep happening. In light of my previous blog I have taken on new coping mechanisms for heart ache, don’t worry, I tell myself every morning that I am 27 and I am brave (I think its actually working). But tonight I thought I would roll back and satiate my need to write but using one of my tried and true methods, the unsendable letter.

Ya ever get that inkling that you never quite got to say what you really meant? Or tell that person how you really felt? Well, I’m a self diagnosed crazy person, so more often than not my thoughts are better left to myself, but it helps me to get all the words out… so he get’s a letter, one that I never send. Sometimes two, three, even four letters, each one residing in my computer. Ha, if only these boys knew how tortured I was, but that’s not the point. The point is that in some small way, writing this letter helps bring me just a little bit of peace and a little bit closer to acceptance.

Tossing and turning until four in the morning, I finally decided that an unsendable letter was in order. I grabbed my Jurassic laptop from the desk and began spilling my heart out onto the screen. To my dismay this letter left me feeling rather unsatisfied. Maybe because the wounds are still so fresh, or maybe because I thought this one understood me and after writing my letter, it seems like he has grievously misunderstood me. Regardless of the why, the fact remained that I still felt rather lousy, but then something kind of neat happened…. Wait for it…

I went to save my unsendable letter and being as organized as I am, I would naturally have a file containing all the letters I wrote but never sent. Sometimes when in a melancholy mood I treat myself to a bowl full of misery. Perhaps I wanted to punish myself further tonight, but I was curious as to what some of those old letters contained as quite a few of them were written years and years ago. I opened one and began reading… the feelings I had written… the pain, the hopelessness, the anguish… all these feelings I felt all those years ago are the same exact ones I’m feeling now. Here is this past letter I had written for someone, about feelings I had felt very intensely at the time I wrote it, and yet here and now I feel completely fine about it. I don’t still miss them, although according to each of my letters I thought I would miss each one for eternity… but I don’t. The feeling of an epiphany never gets old folks. The saying that time heals all wounds could be the most useless statement when suffering heart ache, yet the most profoundly truthful saying with hindsight.

The letter I wrote tonight didn’t help me much. It was nice to get some things off my chest but what has really helped ease my caffeine powered heart are all those old letters. The proof that it actually does get better. Here I had written that it would never get better, that I would never find someone new, that I would never move on, and wouldn’t you know it, I moved on to five other heart breaks and subsequently wrote about those ones. I am sad, might be sad for a little while and that’s okay, because it will get better. Someone else will come along… he’ll probably break my heart too but we can worry about that one later.

I am 27 and I am brave

Breath in
Breath out

Don’t forget to breath…

I haven’t written in a while... like 9 months a while. I blame my computer, it freezes all the time and I pretty much want to throw it out the window. As I am laying here I thought to myself, why let this computer get me down? Why let it defeat me? I will not let this device conquer me! I will write when I damn well feel like writing, and right now I feel like writing.

Nothing unique is happening in my life. I live in the same house, I have the same job, and I have the same story, my heart is broken. What is unique is I am no longer 23. That‘s actually not new information, I haven‘t been 23 for nearly four years now. Here this very night, amidst this freshly broken heart of mine there was a moment that I screamed that I wished I was 23. Why 23? Years and years and years ago, back when I was in high school I had this dream that I would be married by 23, at the time it seemed like the perfect age. Then this crazy thing happened when I turned 22, I got baptized. Which to me meant I no longer had the stigma of being a “non-member” holding me back from this teenage dream of being married by 23. But 23 came and went, so did 24... And 25... And now 26. Yeah, still not married, not even close, not that I was close before this hurt my little heart strings, I mean, we hadn‘t dated for very long, but I‘m certainly less close tonight than I was a week ago. I cried for a minute, but after the initial sting of rejection wore off, my breathing slowed and returned to normal, I thought over this little outburst, and I’m actually pretty grateful that I’m not 23.

You see, 23 year old Noelle would have handled this little heartbreak situation very differently. She would start off by throwing a serious pity party. She would personally invite misery, doubt, and self loathing to throw up a chair and enjoy some refreshments. Twenty three would close the curtains, turn off all the lights and cry and cry and cry, believing the notion that maybe if she suffered long enough, this boy who broke her heart might come back. It’s a crazy thought process I know, 23 was a real whack job. Twenty three was prone to this self perpetuated suffering for weeks. Lots of angsty poetry and writing, really cry baby status updates on Facebook, basically she was a hot mess crying for attention and approval from any which way she could get it. Twenty three needed lots of validation and convincing that she was still worthwhile and desirable, in spite of the rejection from her beloved.

Each year between 23 year old Noelle and now, nearly 27, have taught me a lot. Twenty six has been rather fearful, more so than all the years before it. Apparently all those negative experiences in relationships have really got 26 backed into a corner like a frightened little child. Twenty six has been afraid to fail and not live up to personal expectation and the expectations of others. She’s been afraid to walk away from bad situations, feeling an overwhelming obligation to see things through to an end. The worst of it, 26 has been so afraid to trust people and let herself enjoy a good thing for fear of how much it may hurt when the good thing ends.

Well 26, no more I say. No more fear, because 27, she is brave. She will live and let live, love and let love. She will not cry for weeks because some boy was afraid to love her, she will fight for happiness. She will fight every day to be the happiest damn person in the room, even if it annoys everyone around her. Twenty seven, unlike all the years before her has let go of this unbridled need for approval. Twenty seven knows she is awesome and she will not be knocked down by some silly rejection. She will open the curtains, take the rejection and flip it the bird! Twenty seven doesn’t have time to waste being sad like 23 had, she’s only got time to be motivated and take on the world.

For the better part of the last few months I have been dreading turning 27, but now, I’m just going to start telling people I already am 27, because I already think she’s much cooler than 26, and 25, and 24, and especially that wussy 23. I am twenty seven and I am brave.

tonight I feel like crying

I haven't written in a long time.  I've been too busy trying to pretend I'm fine.  Here I thought I had turned a new leaf on my blog, writing nothing but happy anecdotes, but sometimes its just too tiring to be happy and brave all the time... so tonight I'm going to let myself cry and let myself be sad.  I think in light of the situation, its pretty justified... its about my one that got away.

.....

I walked away. He gave me a choice, it was him or this new guy. At the time it all made so much sense.  In all honesty it seemed like I didn’t really have a choice, it felt like fate had stepped in and decided for me. Now months and months and months after the fact, I’m still suffering from losing him.

I work in a restaurant that plays country music. Most days I am fine.  My mind is too preoccupied with tables orders and salads and drinks. I don’t have much time to stand around listening to the white noise coming from the juke box. But Thursdays are absolute torture. I hostess on Thursdays, so I stand up there at the hostess stand, more or less forced to listen to songs that I’m certain were written for the soul purpose of prolonging my suffering. Every song reminds me of him… songs that he once played for me, dedicated to me… they play on repeat. Some lyrics remind me how foolish I was for letting him go while others paint a bleak picture, knowing I’ll never really get over him.

I know our love wasn’t perfect and we never could quite seem to find ourselves on the same page, more than anything I don’t think I was ready to be loved like that. It was frightening because I felt so responsible for his happiness. I always felt some sort of pressure because of it… so I would leave. I would go out in search of something and then I would always return to him, but this time I cannot return. I left him for someone that presented all the qualities I thought he lacked, the qualities I thought I needed. In that sense, I am glad that I left because I learned that the things I thought I needed were absolutely useless to me. What I needed is what I had had all along, I was just too naïve to see it.

My pride kept me from crawling back… I told myself that it was too much, that I made too big of a mistake and he would never take me back for it. I took a break from dating for a few months, I felt that maybe I needed to clear my head and just let things happen for a change… but then nothing happened. No knight in shining armor waltzed into my life to rescue me and sitting around by myself left me longing for him more and more. So then I began dating again, any male with a pulse.. That’s pretty much been my motto since the new year. Some weeks I felt like I needed a secretary to take care of my schedule.

A week or so ago I was at work one night. When I got off I noticed I had a missed call from him. I was so excited and scared, I didn’t know why he would call but I didn’t care, he had called me finally. It had given me hope. I had text him a few times since the new year, but he ignored them, I had thought that maybe the number I had for him was no longer his, but sure enough, there his number was as a missed call on my phone. I hurriedly text him to inquire about the call and for the first time in months did he respond, but to my dismay it was a cruel joke at the hands of a mutual friend… at least he was talking to me. It had been nothing but silence for so long that I’d almost forgotten what it was like to talk to him, albeit text messages.

Since that little prank I’ve been sick, not really knowing what to do… I asked him for closure and he dismissed it… but today I asked him outright. I needed to know if my hopes for a reconcile were childish and unrealistic. I needed to hear him tell me that we would never get back together again. When I had left all those months ago he had told me that he would never say never… that has left me with far too much hope that maybe things can go back, that maybe we could give it just one more try. When I text him today I didn’t want him to say never… never would mean the end of all my hope… but hearing never from him, and knowing for certain would be a far lesser pain than sitting here in limbo, blindly hoping for something that would never happen.

For a moment after sending the text I thought maybe, just maybe he still loved me, even just a little bit, enough to listen to me and tell me so… but no.  Like I had dreaded, he told me never.

A part of me wonders if he still reads my blog… if he does I would want him to know how much I love him and that I never stopped loving him. I would want him to know that I needed to leave so I could know for certain about he and I, so I could know how great we really were for each other. I would want him to know that it wasn’t until I was with someone else that I realized how much I had put him through, that I couldn’t really appreciate how much he truly loved me until I met with someone who was indifferent towards me because of my flaws… the flaws that he had embraced. I needed to learn those things to make my love for him as powerful as it is today. I don’t know what would have happened to he and I if I had chosen him all that time ago. If I had to wager a guess, I don’t know that we would have survived anyway. I had an unfounded love for him at the time, but it was always laced with a pinch of doubt and a hint of uncertainty, by now we probably would have broken up anyway…

… so I learned what I needed to. I finally learned how to love him as deeply and profoundly as he loved me. As much as it hurts me, I am grateful for the journey that he and I took together. For every single up and down. He was with me through some of the darkest hours of my life and I would hope he knows how eternally grateful I am for that. I am grateful to know that my heart is capable of loving someone this much, in spite of how painful it is. My only hope is that the pain begins to dull and I can start to really heal. He told me never, that we wont work, and that I should move on. I told him I would never stop loving him, and I meant it.  I love him still and always will.

2013: I Can

So this is one of those blogs where I don’t feel like writing something pretty. Today I just feel like I need to write something, get some thoughts out on paper (or a big white screen that looks like paper). So if you’re reading this, don’t anticipate anything mind blowing. Today is just me.

Today is January 13^th. I’ve been mulling over what my new years resolution would be for weeks now. You’d think by the first of the month I would have come up with something but it just seemed like there were so many something’s that needed some resolute in my life that I couldn’t quite hunker down on one.

For starters I have been saying for years that I wanted to compete in a body building competition and yet, haven’t quite gotten there. I also quit my job right before the holidays, so that’s kind of a big deal that needs fixing. Then there is my poor… very VERY poor relationship status. Yes yes, lots of things in my life need change… but then I realized something today. Perhaps it is not these circumstances in my life or these pieces of my life that need to change, but maybe it is me. Maybe I need to just make one change deep within myself.

I want 2013 to be the year of “I Can”. I’ve had this sensation lately that I am a severe under-achiever. Its not that great of a feeling in case anyone was wondering. I have had a few different individuals praise me lately, raving about my abundant talents and gifts. I know the intent was to uplift me and make me feel good about myself, but a reverse effect followed. I began to feel like I have been underutilizing these faculties that have been given to me. I get by on what I have… but have I really lived up to my full potential? Have I really left a mark on anyone? This loathsome feeling could be contributed to the fact I have been hold up in my room for a few weeks doing nothing but watching cartoons all day, but either way, I have little to show for my 26 years here on earth.

I live at home with my parents. I am not financially stable enough to live on my own. I don’t see me getting out of debt anytime soon. I’m not married, I’ve never even had anyone ask me to marry them. I’m not even in a relationship. I’ve never been out of the country. Yearly I travel down to Lake Powell, but that’s about it. The only noteworthy thing I have done in all these 26 years is I did get a bachelor’s degree, that was kinda cool… but then I remember that the bachelor’s degree is the new high school diploma and suddenly that one thing I did do no longer seems as cool, especially since I’ve yet to land a job with this degree of mine. I just got my old job back, waiting tables. The worst of it is all of these things in mind and I’m still pretty content… and that I find to be most alarming.

I have been working really hard to be grateful for my life over the past few months because I know that an attitude of gratitude is a means to finding happiness. It is the ability to find a silver lining that has gotten me through some recent hard times… but I feel like I have just been awakened. While I have done a good job of staying positive I feel as though I have truly missed the mark. I have simply rolled over and accepted my life as it is, albeit I am thankful for it, I don’t know that contentment in mediocrity is the best way of showing my gratitude.

Which is why this year I am going to stop saying “I can’t.” I am doing myself a disservice. I am doing my loved ones a disservice. I am doing mankind a disservice. Above all I am doing my gracious Father in Heaven a disservice. There is potential for me to be so much and make so much more of all the things that I have. I don’t have everything worked out, in fact, I don’t know that I have a specific game plan for how I’m going to go about reaching my potential. All I know is that big changes are coming and I’m going to get things done this year simply because… I can.