There once was a time when I handled my romantic relationships like a caveman. Not even a cavewoman. A caveman.
Despite having grown up in a family full of (questionably) happily married couples, I never had any formal training when it came to learning how to form my own relationships. Did any of you? Hmm. Perhaps I mistook the Dating 101 seminar invitation for junk mail… or bills. *Shudder* I always make sure to throw my bills into the recycling bin straight away. It’s good for the environment, you know.
Anyhow, unlike the whole birds and the bees thing (from which I naively took away the message, “Never, ever, ever touch boys”), my mother never sat me down and explained what I should and should not do if I hoped to maintain a successful partnership with a member of the opposite sex.
I didn’t have any siblings to ask, and although I’d grow to have friends who also dated, I wasn’t about to pick their brains about something so serious. Besides, I was fairly confident that they didn’t know what they were doing either. It seemed like a much better idea to wing it. And so, I did.
Turns out I was a relational caveman. No contemplation. No patience. No decorum. No idea what the heck I was doing. It was simply, “Me like. Me want. Me take. Me bored. Me throw away. Me like new thing now. You go away.” And the cycle would repeat itself.
Before I jump into today’s throwback post, I’d like to wish all of the fathers out there a very happy Father’s Day.
It has always seemed as though mothers get so much more recognition for their half of the parenting. I mean, retail stores practically cram Mother’s Day gifts down our throats a month in advance. By the time we hit Father’s Day, stores are like, “Here, just get him another tie. It doesn’t really matter.” That’s not true though; it does matter. Fathers matter.
Fathers are just as important as mothers. They have a responsibility to show their sons how to properly conduct themselves as true men. Likewise, they have a duty to display the kinds of qualities their daughters should look for in a mate. Fathers should be there to guide, provide and nurture their children to the very best of their abilities.
As for my father, he has served as an excellent role model. I’m not saying he is perfect, but he’s done such an exemplary job of being the kind of father many people wish they could have had. I truthfully cannot name anyone who has worked as diligently or hard as my father has throughout the years. He’s been such an inspiration to me. It is from him that I inherited my two favorite traits: (1) the ability to dream bigger than big and (2) a wild taste for adventure. Thank you for everything, Dad ❤
I may never come to understand why he meant so much to me…why this one night meant so much.
When I recall this particular memory there is such a rush of raw, poignant emotion. It has been twelve years. You have no idea how hard it is for me to believe this to be true. For me, it still feels like yesterday. It’s almost as though everything about the world has changed in those years except for my feelings for him. Sure, the details are fuzzy at best, but there is something about that man that never left me. “It” will never leave me.
Hey, everyone! Today’s post details my first few days working at the job that ended up being my favorite of all time. Somehow, someway I got lucky enough to score a position working for a major title company when I was still a lowly college student. Just thinking back to my time working for them makes my innards feel all warm and fuzzy…like a cashmere sweater or a newborn kitten.
Thinking back, it is easy to see how I came to love working there. Between the good pay and frequent (aka. weekly) in-office cocktail parties, the general nature of the job made very good use of my natural abilities. My co-workers were (mostly) amazing and best of all, I loved my boss (the feeling was actually quite mutual). I’d give anything to work for her again.
The entire process of revisiting the written events of my past has been surprisingly cathartic. In the very short time that I’ve been doing this I have been struck by a handful of profoundly beneficial epiphanies, all of which have helped me to make significant strides in my present day life. I’m having great fun over here…hopefully you guys are too.
Today’s post is reasonably lackluster on the surface (my apologies, guys); I was just a college student painting her nails the night before starting a new job. As seemingly benign as this post is, it was actually interesting for me to look over it because I could actually recognize this period of time as being a sort of “jump-off point” for a number of issues that would later prove to be quite problematic for me.
Today’s throwback post is an unwelcome reminder of my history with disordered eating. For as long as I can remember I have dealt with cyclical bouts of binge eating and bulimia (with or without some form of purging)—yet another thing I’m not particularly proud of.
I’m sure I will someday talk about how this whole issue got started, but for now, I can confidently say that I am mostly recovered. Anxiety-induced binges are still a problem from time to time, but I am currently doing my very best to offset them by eating normally and losing weight the “right” way.
“The intention and outcome of vulnerability is trust, intimacy and connection. The outcome of oversharing is distrust, disconnection— and usually a little judgment.” – Brene Brown
Isn’t that the truth?
There have not been many people to know me as I truly am— this has caused me considerable grief over the years. Building walls and hiding my feelings was simply how I made it through most of life. I don’t know why.
In some ways, I never felt as though I belonged anywhere…belonged to anyone. A walking, talking, living, breathing paradox. Unpredictable. Inconvenient. It seemed as though people only liked me if I’d fit their mold. Oh, I played along sometimes. Then I’d go home, soak my pillow through, get up and prepare to do it all over again.
I knew this day would come, and though I’ve tried to mentally and emotionally brace myself, anxiety has overtaken me. Today’s post may be the hardest one I will ever share. There is so much that I want to say about what you will soon read, but…I’m not entirely sure that I’m up for it right now. I intend to post further commentary in the days to come, but for tonight, I will let my former words speak for themselves.
As far as Adam is concerned, he genuinely lived up to his namesake by being the first man to accomplish so many monumental things in my life. For instance, he was the first man I ever truly loved. That alone speaks volumes, but I also believe that he was the first man to genuinely love me back. As beautiful and precious a gift that was, it only makes perfect sense that we couldn’t have lasted long.
For some reason, today’s throwback post really caught me off guard. I’m unsure if it was because I hadn’t remembered this particular event until I read it, or if it was due to its eerie similarity to the night I tearfully screamed, “It’s over! Don’t you ever call me again, you “blanking” (expletive)!” into my phone’s receiver.
Oh, I was so dreadfully dramatic at that age. It makes for wonderful reading though, so I won’t spoil the end for you.
I’ve been blogging since before I knew what I was doing had a formal name. If my memory hasn’t failed me, I started my first blog back in 2001-2002, respectively. A very good friend of mine at the time knew I loved writing and suggested I join her in posting on Livejournal. It was one of the best things I ever did.
The Internet has changed a lot since the early 2000’s, and blogging is no exception. For that matter, a lot about me has changed since then. I was about 13 at the time I started writing about my life online, so I have an extensive collection of blog posts that span the last 18 years of my life. Outside of a handful of my closest friends, I never publicly advertised the fact that I had a blog (heck, I don’t even promote this blog), so my posts have been seen by very few—until now.