I Nell. Me Was Caveman.

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.

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Self Control… What’s That?

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 ❤

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Super Humiliating Proof Of My Childhood

My mother has been rifling through some of her prehistoric belongings lately.

Old birthday cards. Old Valentine’s Day cards. Old Mother’s Day cards. Old Christmas cards.

From overpriced Hallmark Signature greeting cards to good ole’ fashioned handmade masterpieces, that woman has somehow managed to keep every single thing I’ve ever given her since I first learned that it was socially unacceptable to ignore your parents on holidays. So, she’s been harboring a lot of junk for a really, really LONG time.

I have no idea how she’s managed it. Her closet is like an extension of the Smithsonian, only instead of it being full of valuable relics of the past, it is full of complete garbage that her only child gave her: Me. You are most welcome, Mom.

Well, today she ever so graciously passed along two bits of antiquity that I gave her back in 1994. She thought I would find them “funny”. I then decided to share it with you guys, but please do not judge what you are about to witness. It’s sincerely a crime against humanity, but what’s done is done.

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Disorderly Conduct

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.

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Dinner, Dessert & Desire

“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.

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Beer Before Liquor

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.

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I’m Falling, But Don’t Bother Catching Me

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.

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