Mar 27, 2015 |
I’m just sitting here and this sudden, invasive thought came to me:
The Complicated and I looked so good together on paper. He was everything I thought I wanted, except for one big “check” on “the list”.
But once I got to the depths of who we were together, for each other, I knew it wouldn’t work and I broke it off. I know I broke his heart and for that I’m sorry. But I also know staying with him would have destroyed me completely. I know he now hates me and thinks I led him on or used him.
But I also know that being single, and alone, and being the Right Person for ME, is better than being the Wrong Person for someone else. He may hate me now, but I would have hated me then.
And a tag-along thought is, I don’t. I don’t hate him. And I don’t hate me. In fact, I’m darn well pleased with who I’ve become. And how I didn’t compromise myself out of loneliness.
Last summer taught me a lot about just being. Yes, I still have moments that I wish I had someone to really talk to. Someone to hold me after a long day. Someone to appreciate my successes with me. Someone to call and say, “Let’s hang out” or “Let’s watch a movie” or just “Come over and have coffee”. I want someone to go on dates with, a reason to get dressed up and keep the house clean and wash the car and have a drink with and cook for and just anticipate his smile and his voice.
I spent six months on eHarmony after The Complicated, and all I learned is to NOT make a detailed list of expectations of who he should be.
Those things I thought I wanted in a man? The Complicated was most of them. And it didn’t work out. eHarmony “matched” me with guys who “fit the bill”. And they didn’t work out.
So I’m done with the list of expectations. You know what? I’m just going to enjoy life each day at a time.
I have discovered, that I am loved by a treasure trove of people. I just had to open myself up to them. My loneliness didn’t stem from not being in a relationship. It stemmed from me keeping myself hidden from the world.
I believe, as hard as it was to say “no” to The Complicated, that it was the best thing to do. So I could rediscover myself, and find out not what I want in a relationship, but what I have to offer the world at large.
I do still want to share my life with that one person I can trust with absolutely everything. But until he comes along (and I have faith he will!), I’m no longer keeping a list. And I’m no longer keeping myself hidden.
Years ago, I woke with this sort of mantra running through my head. I’d forgotten it, forgotten to pay attention to it.
“I am worthy
Of being loved
By the One
Who is worthy
Of being loved
By me.”
I don’t know what brings it to mind now.
I was just sitting at the computer playing Trivia Crack and this entire episode hit me like a refreshing, warm wave on the beach in summer.
Time to dip my toes in a little deeper, and trust that I know how to swim.
Funny the things you realize in a moment. . .
Don’t Leave. Period. My mantra to myself. No matter who else is involved, I mustn’t lose myself.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
It’s Complicated, Part One: My Relationship
Stop Fighting and Be Still.
“He loves me. He loves me not.”
Oct 29, 2013 |
Consider this your nudge.
It’s time to get moving.
One way or another, it’s time to get moving.
Get out of your own way, and just step. Just once. And then once more.
Do it. Do it and you’ll be amazed.
Do it.
Take that first step.
This is your nudge.
Know how I know? I’ve been nudged myself lately.
I’m familiar with the comfortable. Comfortable with the familiar. But it’s time to get moving.
Whatever it is, take that first step.
Success stories don’t just happen. Those scars are earned. These badges are claimed. People don’t just hand them to you. Failures aren’t failures. They’re the successful attempts of finding out what doesn’t work.
I’ve a few projects in the works, and one I’m not sure how to start.
What if it really is just that simple?
What if starting this project means just doing it?
Putting aside my doubts, insecurities, preparations and pre-planning. What if doing what I’m supposed to do means just doing it?
What would I be doing if this project were ready to go? I’d be working it. Not thinking about it. Not scheduling it. Planning it. Contemplating it. Worrying about it. Structuring it.
I’d be working it. Not letting it work me over.
It really is just that simple.
Take the first step.
I’m on a path that I can’t see the end of. Maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe this is part of stepping out in faith. Maybe an unforeseen part of this project is that some of it is still unforeseen. Maybe I just need to stop saying “maybe…” and instead say
“Yes!”
And everywhere I look, I’m being nudged onto the path. Pushed to participate.
I’m no longer on the sidelines, waiting for direction.
I’m doing it.
One baby step at a time.
Do Something
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Doing Something. Good.
TGIF: A-P-P-R-E-C-I-A-T-I-V-E-L-Y
FIVE THINGS FRIDAY: Everything Old is NEW Again
May 29, 2013 |
A few posts ago, I wrote about watching Under the Tuscan Sun and how I desperately want the white dress.
Well. I bought myself a dress. It’s not white. There’s no black belt. Am I’m a few sizes bigger than Diane Lane. But I bought a dress.
I Wore a Dress. And I Wore a Hat.
And I love it.
I wore it for the first time today.
I’ve struggled with my hair since getting it cut last week. Melanie always does such an amazing job. But I couldn’t duplicate the salon style in my own home. Then we caught The Great Gatsby at the theater this weekend, and I became enamored with the abundance of short hair styles.
Today I love my hair. Even wispy after a long day and getting windswept just before this photo, I love my hair.
It’s not always magazine-beautiful. But I like my short hair. Today, I love it. Tucked under a matching blue headband, I felt the part. I felt coordinated. I felt…
Confident.
I’m not a Size 0 or even a Size 6. I have an eczema flare up on my face that rivals any teenaged pizza delivery kid in town.
And today I wore a dress.
Dreaming.
I felt strange. As though I’d been waiting for this moment. It was so much more than a dress. It was, as I thought it would be, an embracing of who I already am and letting what’s inside shine out.
A few months ago I wouldn’t have shared these photos. I wouldn’t have been confident enough. But today I am.
Today, I’m okay with being bigger than a Size 6. I’m okay with a less than perfect complexion. And I’m even okay with showing a yard that still needs some clean-up.
Because this is Who I Am.
And let’s face it: nobody’s perfect. Nobody’s even what you see. So much of us is hidden or ignored. That’s not to say I’m not going to strive for something better. But I’m not upset with the way things are.
How can I tell my daughter, “You’re Worth It!” if I example to her a lack of confidence or self-control? How I be a good role model for Dot if I’m constantly struggling with how I present myself or have a lack of willingness to participate in life?
Granted, you’ll (hopefully) never see a photo of me crawling out of bed in the morning… there are just some things y’all don’t need. Like a spider in the shoe or fingers on the chalkboard. I don’t want to leave you with that kind of experience. And me before coffee is exactly that. You’re just gonna hafta trust me on this.
There’s Nothing in My Cup!
Today was also about having fun and letting Dot take the lead. I simply handed her my iPhone and said, “Do your thing.” Inherently amazing behind any camera, she allowed me to be goofy and dramatic. I made a few suggestions of what types of photos I was hoping for, and she did the rest. Have I told you how amazing she is?
We had a time of fresh air, laughter, togetherness. And it was all free. And in my own backyard.
The legacies I leave my family are more than just my duties and responsibilities. As I’m putting energy into action to accomplish goals and dreams, I don’t want to lose sight of the “little” things. I don’t want to be so focused on writing that I forget to look. I mustn’t be so burdened with a drive to get to Italy that I neglect my own town. I can’t concentrate so hard on working that I forget how to play.
Going Places
Maybe someday I’ll have a slimmer body, whiter teeth, and a stamp or two in my Passport [Note to Self: get a passport]. Until then, I’m more than comfortable with who I am.
I’m confident enough to wear a dress. And a hat.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Follow us on Instagram!
Hannah E. Realy: @herealy
Molly Jo: @TheRealMojo68
You may also enjoy reading:
She Wore a White Dress. And She Wore a Hat.
You’re Gonna Make It After All
Where are you, Paul Varjak?
As Long As You Love Me
Feb 18, 2012 |
I have admittedly held back from giving myself over to my best writings. Some themes, like a good shoot-’em-up cop drama or a Stephen King-esque, while I enjoy reading and watching, are not something I want to really wrap my head around. I can’t bring myself to allow myself to get that deep into such a mindset so as to write an acclaimed novel. I don’t want to know the inner thinkings of a serial killer or even a regular thief. I don’t want mystical dark details in my head. Not as a rule of thumb.
Writing for God means everything should be lollipops and gumdrops and puppy dog tails. Right? I don’t want to be typecast as a horror-writer. Or worse, a mediocre writer.
And so I’ve resisted writing some stories that rest in the back of my mind.
Until this week. This week I recognized that I was copping out. Using the fear of the unknown to keep me from writing some really great stories that are festering and boiling forth from the back of my mind.
But now I have no excuse.
I believed in myself enough to form my own company. Why not believe I can do what I formed the company to enable me to do?
And in the deep recesses of my subconscious, fighting for recognition, is that collective sigh that says
Finally.
and
Thank you.
So. Hi Ho. Hi Ho… you know the rest.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Dec 20, 2011 |
The other day I was driving on Main Street when I came upon a slow moving car, following a slow bulldozer trying to make its way in traffic. The three of us, and others, stopped in line for a red light.
That’s when I saw it.
The license plate.
The vanity plate.
It wasn’t anything special. And it took me a moment to figure it out.
And then I realized. I’ve seen that plate before. On a different vehicle. Years ago.
And then I realized…
It must be driven by one of them. A member of that family; his family.
That license plate is a vanity plate belonging to the family of a former boyfriend.
And I’m driving right behind them.
Oh, joy.
It’s been about 15 years since I broke up with him and his family. And every now and then I see him about town. And every time, I get a little snobby. A little proud. A little taller. A little How Do You Like Me Now? attitude.
I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s vain. But let’s be real. If he was a keeper, I would have kept him. Right?
There’s a reason (or two… or ten) why that relationship ended, and I don’t for a moment miss it. I love the person I’ve become since then. But every now and then, I’m reminded that even I am capable of making really stupid choices.
The point is, to pick up and move on. And I’ve done that. Every now and then it’s okay to look back and see how far I’ve come, how I’ve changed, how I’ve grown.
But every now and then, I guess I get a little arrogant. I don’t mean to. But every now and then, I take a little pride that on those few-and-far-between days that he spies me out and about, I still look better than I did. I still stand up for myself, and am nobody’s doormat.
Most of all, the dreams we had 15 years ago… well, mine are coming true. And since he’s still in this general area, I know for a fact his are not.
The light turned green. And in that split-second writer’s inspiration that I get, I thought it was very apropo as I accelerated and drove around the slow moving, road-blocking tractor and car making their turn down another road.
Did they recognize me? I have no idea. I’m not one to keep looking in the rear-view mirror. I just prayed as I passed and happily thought There but for the Grace of God go I.
