Knock, knock

As I stood in the street outside my dad's house over ten years ago, I was so nervous I wanted to puke. I hadn't seen him since I was in third grade. I was then a freshman in college. It took me twenty minutes of pacing back and forth in front of his house that night to get up the nerve to ring the doorbell. 

As I sat parked in my mother's driveway last Saturday night, I felt nothing but indifference. I might as well have been pulling up to Walgreens to buy mascara. I hadn't seen her in over two years. I parked in the driveway, grabbed my bags, and walked resolutely up to the door. 

She welcomed me in and hugged me. She said she was glad to see me and that she loved me very much. As I put my arms around her to hug her, I felt like I was hugging a mannequin or a robot. It seemed empty.

The conversation was awkward and sputtering. For a person that usually has a lot to say, nothing compelling came to my mind. I met mom's fiancée, Kyle, who lives with her now. We sat in the basement for several painful minutes watching Kyle's two cats play with fake mice and eat cat treats. Two cats? Mom hates cats. She showed me her engagement ring, and I told her it was very nice. Kyle went to bed soon after I got there so mom and I could "catch-up". 

Usually when you "catch-up," both parties inquire of each other about the goings on in their lives and each person shares in turn. Mom just kept talking about how great her life is and how great Kyle is and how in love she is. She asked me if I was happy that she is so happy. I told her I was, of course. She continued on about her great life, never asking my about my life and whether or not it's great, so I just listened. Then she talked about how she wants us to have a relationship again, and she launched into what seemed like a political commercial, listing all the reasons I should trust her again. I felt like she was asking for my vote. It all seemed so fake. 

I sat there on my kitchen stool and wondered who this person was in front of me. And as she spoke, re-writing history with every word, I was reminded again of how different her past is from the one I remember living through. I was too tired to be angry or indignant, so I just sighed quietly and told her that we just can't talk about some things, and I was glad to give our relationship a go again as long as it didn't turn into what it was before. Because I'm tired of being hurt, and if she tries to hurt me again, she'll lose me forever. 

Driving home the next day, I tried to think through what had happened and how I felt. It's an odd thing to have no feelings at all for a parent. I told God that if this relationship was to blossom again, he'd have to really till the soil of my heart so that new life in our relationship could grow. But even if he tilled the soil, I have no desire to do any planting, weeding, fertilizing, or tending. So what's the point? What is the point of maintaining this relationship?

And that's the question I'm still looking for answers to. I know what I should do, and I know what I want to do. I can't seem to reconcile the two. 

Moments

For most of my time on this planet, life has been a series of ups and downs; extreme highs and extreme lows, with only a few times spent somewhere in between. Over the past couple of years, there have been a handful of times where something within me made me stop to survey my life and say to myself, "Life is really amazing. I'm so happy. I'm so blessed." And they aren't necessarily the moments you'd think they'd be. I had another moment like that last night.

I was driving home from church after a Superbowl party my friends and I had thrown together. The turn-out was pretty good, and I got to spend the evening stuffing my face and watching my favorite sport with my favorite people. Everybody pitched in to make it happen, and it was pretty flawless in execution. At one point Ben, who cooked all the hotdogs for us, said to me, "Hey, thanks for putting all this together. It was a lot of fun," and those sitting around the table concurred. I thanked him but pointed out that it was a team effort, because it absolutely was, and I thanked all of them for helping out. Later, my friends Cara and Suzanne stayed long past when they were obligated to, to help me clean up the kitchen. My friend Bill closed up the building and took out the trash when he could have left much earlier. My buddy Fred texted after he left to let me know he'd come the next day to vacuum and put a spit polish on the place. I smiled and hummed softly to myself as I left the church. "I have great friends," I thought. As I turned into my apartment complex a few minutes later, I realized what struck me most about the evening was the sense of doing it all together and being a part of something that meant something to someone. Something as trivial as a Fantasy Football league really turned into something bigger and deepened our relationships with each other. You see, the older I get, the more I feel like what I'm doing in life isn't important. And God always reminds me that it's most often the littlest of things that make life rich. Things like Super Bowl parties with really amazing people.

Life is about community. If you aren't living in a good community, life doesn't have much meaning. I realized that at each of those moments in time, where I was stopped in my tracks by how amazing life was and is, it was at moments when I felt loved, supported, accepted, significant, and surrounded. Surrounded by people who made me a better person. People who I felt really liked me. Most of these moments were at times when I felt very close to my family, my friends, and God. And the times I felt the lowest in life were times when I felt the most alone. I know that isn't a coincidence. Life is easier and richer when you do it with other people.

When I get caught in one of those good moments, I try to hold onto it as long as I can, and I memorize every piece of it; every ray of sunshine, every laugh, every song, every joke, every hug, every tear. Because when the present becomes the past, all we have is the memory. And if we spend too much time waiting on the future to get here, we'll miss how amazing the present is. I sometimes wonder if I am the only person who has to consciously tell themselves, "Hey, you are having a great time. Focus. This is a great moment. Soak it up. Be present." I struggle to stop looking forward to the great things I have planned for the future and focus on the great things I am doing right now. These moments are what life is about. And I think that if you are doing life right, you'll remember so many great moments that they will just blend together into one amazing life.

Honor your mother and father?

As humans, we have difficulty letting go of the past. We have trouble forgiving others who have hurt us or who have hurt those we love. We feel justified in our anger or our refusal to reconcile. We carry our pain with us all the time; sometimes hiding it deep inside our hearts. It can be a barrier to trust, respect, and intimacy in other relationships. We may eventually reach a place of forgiveness. Despite the scars we bear on our hearts, we are able to find a place of peace, of healing, and of love. We can look back on the events of the past and see them as a marker of how far we’ve come and where we don’t want to return. But when this process of healing and forgiveness only takes place for us, and not the one who hurt us, it can make reconciliation impossible and even harmful. And the question then becomes, “How can I love this person and honor them when they continue to try to hurt me, themselves, or others?” And fear creeps in that they may put us back in the dark place of pain again if we allow them to be in our lives. It’s easier to walk away. It’s easier to ignore the phone calls or the emails. But it's not so easy when it's a member of our own family. Our mother or our father. It's one thing to cut off contact with an ex, it's quite another to do the same with someone who literally gave us life. It takes a lot more guts, love, and long-suffering to choose to honor that person in whatever small way we can. And then it's just a matter of letting your heart guide you into exactly what that looks like. Because it looks different for all of us.

The Road Ahead

I felt really depressed yesterday thinking about my future. Not that my future is really bleak or anything, it's just that I feel like I'm in a never-ending phase of my life in which I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing and where I'm going. For some reason, I just felt a wave of depression and hopelessness wash over me. I wondered if I would always feel this way: lost.

I always tell myself that this is part of being in your twenties. Whenever I talk to people my same age, they tell me they are struggling with the same things. I think the most frustrating part of all is that I know what I want to do, I just don't know exactly how to get to a place where I can do it. And when I say that to people, they usually rush to ask me all these questions and give all these suggestions about how I can get there and what I should do to get there. I understand they are trying to be helpful, but I want to say to them: "Don't you think I've already thought of all those things?"

I think the real issue is the fact that, sometimes in life, you have to take a leap of faith and do something crazy. It's hard. It's hard because "leap of faith" indicates you don't exactly know what is going to happen when you leap. You have to have faith that, if you leap, you'll land on the other side, and if you fall off a cliff, God will be there to either catch you, or meet you at the bottom to sweep of the pieces and superglue them back together. It's the leaping that has me stuck right now.

I want to leap so badly. I see others leap, and I'm so jealous of their faith. I see people post pictures on Facebook of themselves standing in front of the pyramids in Egypt, hiking the highlands of Scotland, making lewd gestures at the guards outside of Buckingham palace, and I want so desperately for that to be me. So why isn't it? Why can't that be me?

For the moment, I feel like I might be inside a cocoon, waiting to come out and fly away to wherever I wish. I read somewhere that if you were to cut open a cocoon before whatever inside emerges on it's own, you will kill whatever is inside. I'm trusting right now that God has me still wrapped up in my cocoon because there are things that must be completed in me before I emerge. I just hope I emerge sooner rather than later.

Little Me

I was pondering the other day what I was like as a child, and I suddenly had the thought, "I wish I could travel back in time and give that little girl a big hug, and tell her that everything was going to be ok."

At the moment I was having these thoughts, I was remembering a time during my parents' divorce when I was hugging my dad as he was dropping me off at my mom's house. He was going away on business, and I told him I wanted to stay with him and that I didn't want him to go. I could see that he was torn, even at such a young age, but he told me I needed to be with my mom, and that he'd see me again soon. I remember he picked me up off the ground and hugged me very tight. With my head rested on his shoulder, I saw my mother watching us from the window at the front door, and I immediately felt guilty. I tried to wriggle out of my dad's grasp because I didn't want my mom to see that I missed my dad. I didn't want her to get angry and yell. I remember going inside and crying because I also felt guilty for hurting my dad. I had seen the hurt in his eyes as he left. And that's when I had this thought; this strong desire to reach back into that memory and hug that little girl as she cried, and tell her that she is loved and that it's not her fault. I would explain that mommy might try to say that daddy is a bad person, but not to believe it, and to always believe that her daddy does love her. I would wipe the tears from her little face and fix her mussed hair and explain that she will go through some hard times, but to always remember that she has great worth and value, and that one day she will grow up to be a really cool person.

There was another time I thought of that still makes me angry to this very day. When I was in first grade, a girl in my class named Nicole told the teacher that I had spit on her. This hit me out of the blue when they confronted me about it, as I didn't do it and had no idea what they were talking about. I don't even know why this girl said it. I barely knew her. I recall being so angry that they just believed her and convicted me of the offense without any real evidence at all. I can see myself now, sitting in an empty classroom, sobbing my eyes out while everyone else was out at recess. Even my mom didn't believe me, and eventually I had to write an apology letter to this girl for something I didn't even do. At the age of six, I couldn't understand how the world could be so unfair. I laid my head on my desk, and I cried and cried until I pretty much passed out. If I could, I would travel back to that empty classroom, wrap that little girl in my arms, and tell her that I believed she didn't do it. I would give her a tissue, and as she blew her nose and wiped her tears, I would explain that sometimes people say things that aren't true for no reason at all. Sometimes people are bored, or jealous, or just plain mean, and they hurt people that have done nothing to them for their own entertainment or satisfaction. I would have told her to stand up for herself, maintain her innocence, and refuse to write an apology letter, consequences be damned.

The last memory that flashed through my mind was from a time when I was about seven and my grandparents were visiting for Christmas. We had a nice dinner, and I remember my grandpa was stealing food off my plate, which he and I found hilarious, and my grandma found irritating. My mom had left the house to run an errand and my grandmother started to clean up the dishes. I don't remember her and grandpa arguing, but I do remember that, all of the sudden, my grandpa cornered grandma at the sink, grabbed her around the waist, pinning her against the counter and said, "I'll give you something to really yell about Margaret, when I break this plate over your damn head!" I can still see that gray dinner plate with dandelions on it hovering in the air above the sink, poised over grandma. My sister and I were frozen on the other side of the kitchen, just watching it all unfold, dumbfounded. Grandma was screaming, and she yelled at my sister and I to call 911. We remained frozen, just watching, not knowing what to do. I think my sister did grab the phone, but as soon as she did, grandpa released grandma and mumbled something like, "Oh for Christ sake, I wasn't really going to hit her," and he stomped off down the stairs. If it were possible, I would appear there in that kitchen, kneel down in front of that frozen, silently sobbing little girl, and taking her hands in mine I would explain to her that grandma and grandpa had some problems in their marriage that had nothing to do with her. Grandpa simply lost his temper, as we all do sometimes, but he expressed it in a bad way. I would tell her it's not her fault, and that grandma and grandpa love her very much.

I think there are memories like these for all of us. Memories that are so strong and still so painful. It makes me so angry sometimes that no one told me the things I needed to hear at those times. No one explained anything, and I was just left to wonder what I'd done wrong. I grieve for children that are going through exactly the same things. It literally makes me sick to know that there are children out there that are feeling what I felt: children who witness abuse, verbal and physical, children who go through messy, spiteful divorces, children who are subject to bullying. I see them being screamed at in malls, walking by themselves to school, or being eulogized on the news. It makes you wonder how their lives would have been different if someone had cared enough to love them, and explain this sometimes terrible, unfair, and confusing world we live in.

It's odd to think about the fact that the little girl in those memories, and the person I am now are indeed the same person. God is good, and he continues to heal me and help me understand everyday.

The year that wasn't

It’s that time of year when I begin to think about the New Year’s resolutions I made in January. I was reading over a blog I wrote on New Year’s Day 2011, and I had some pretty lofty aspirations. Sadly, I realized this week that I hadn’t attained any of them. I started to think that 2011 has been a big “FAIL” for me so far.

I used to think New Year’s resolutions were stupid, and I pretty much refused to make any. I figured most people never follow through with their resolutions, and if they do it’s only for a few weeks. By February 1st, most people’s resolutions are forgotten and tucked away in their minds to make again next January 1. However, for New Year 2010, I decided to make a resolution to learn how to knit. I’m not sure why I picked knitting, but I think I felt like it was something I needed to learn how to do. Just so I could say I could do it. To confess, I’m one of those people that likes to impress people with all the neat stuff I know how to do. I love the “ooos” and “ahhhhs” people make when I fold a tiny origami star for them or speak some fluent Spanish in front of them. I’m not proud of it, but that’s the way I am. I think that’s the reason I decided to make a resolution. I thought it would be neat to learn how to do something new each year.

It took me about two months and two different teachers, but I did learn how to knit. On Father’s Day I presented my dad with my first completed knitting project, a brown, wool/alpaca scarf. It was beautiful and I couldn’t believe that I had knitted it! I also vowed to learn how to make something that took less time than a scarf, and eventually my mom showed me how to make washcloths. They are way cute and super impressive, and fortunately quick and easy to make. I also got my first taste of how it felt to actually keep a New Year’s resolution, and I wanted more of it.

So come December 2010, it was time to decide what my new resolution would be. But why be limited to just one resolution? Why not make several? I thought maybe I would learn how to crochet, but decided against it since I’m still learning the finer points of knitting. Then I thought it would be fun to learn something about every country and nation in the world, but that seemed a little overambitious. After much thought, I settled on the following three resolutions: Go to Ireland, learn how to drive a stick shift, and improve my Italian to be as good as my Spanish. I was very determined to do all three. But here it is, September 16, and I have completed none of them. I began to feel like a failure.

It was at this point I began to really think about 2011 and the things that I’d done. The first three things that came to mind were mistakes that I’d made, errors in judgment. These three things (mere coincidence that I thought of three?) seemed to overshadow all the good things I’d done this year. Then I forced myself to really think about what I had accomplished this year, and the good things that had happened.

There were a lot of resolution type things that I’d accomplished this year that I didn’t exactly put on my list. I decided to get fit and start eating right. I started taking a bootcamp cardio class at my local community center in January, but by March I had quit going. Resolution shame came over me. I’d failed already! But I persevered, and I joined the gym at the end of May, and I’ve been working out with a personal trainer there for almost four months. I’m eating right, exercising 6-7 times a week for an hour a day, and I look and feel awesome. And while it’s cost me an arm and a leg, it’s totally worth it because I’m investing in my future health and well-being. As far as I can count, I’ve lost 10 net pounds since January 1, gained a lot of muscle, and dramatically reduced my body fat percentage. That’s definitely something to feel good about.

Now, while I haven’t travelled to Ireland this year, and probably won’t due to financial difficulty, I have taken four trips this year. In February, my mom, dad, brother, and I all travelled to South Carolina to see my sister graduate from Army bootcamp. I don’t remember the last time I was so proud of anyone. And while I wanted to strangle my family several times on the trip, there were many great, touching moments, and I have never felt closer to them than I am now. I also traveled to New York for my uncle’s wedding in August. It was his fourth, but his first since getting sober 23 years ago. He’s a changed man, and I admire him. My new aunt is amazing, and so are all of her family members we met. It’s a great feeling to become connected to so many great people with a simple “I do.” And finally, in August and September, I made two trips to San Antonio for my best friend from high school’s bachelorette party and wedding. I’ve known her since fifth grade, and it was really special to see her tie the knot and move onto a different stage in her life.

After much reflection, I have decided my year wasn’t such a waste. And it’s really only September. Three months is plenty of time to learn to drive a stick shift and brush up on my Italian. I’ll also need to start thinking about resolutions for next year. I think maybe I’ll make just one instead of three. Any more accomplishments after my one resolution can just be bonus resolutions. I don’t want to stress myself out too much.

The book that changed my life and also made it more complicated

I read a book a few years ago that changed my life. No, it's not The Bible, although that changed my life too. It's called, He's Just Not That Into You.

The basic premise of the book (and movie by the same name) is that if a guy isn't calling you, taking you to the movies, asking you to be his girlfriend, marrying you, then he's just not that into you. He might be into you to some degree, but not enough to take any of the aforementioned actions you're upset that he's not taking. Now, the author does posit that there are always exceptions to the rule. This is what has made things so complicated. Every girl hopes her man or perspective man is the exception, not the rule. Yeah, I think you can see my dilemma.

The book has helped me a lot, because it has cut down on the amount of time I spend wondering why a super cute guy I met who was really flirting with me didn't ask me out, ask for my number, etc. If he'd been that into me, he would have asked. If there wasn't enough time or opportunity to ask (he met me in the middle of a hurricane) he would have tracked me down somehow. Greg, the author, says that you should take the amount of time it takes you to notice a cute guy and cut it in half, and that's the amount of time it take a cute guy to notice you. So the possibility that he might not have had enough time to realize how cute and fabulous you are is highly unlikely.

This was quite sobering, as I realized how much time I spent wondering why all these cute boys I ran into weren't asking me out. Women spend a lot of time analyzing things like, "Well, he said that he really liked my dress. So obviously he thinks I'm way cute! I wonder why he hasn't asked me out yet?", or "He said he was glad he ran into me today, why didn't he ask for my number? He obviously likes me!" It may seem silly, but women have great memories (maybe you already know this if you've ever forgotten a birthday or anniversary) and we analyze everything the cute guy ever did, said, or wore, and plug it into a formula that obviously says to us, "He's into you!" But then they never call, or ask for your number, and you are left totally confused as to what happened.

It's so simple: He's just not that into you. It seemed so obvious when I read the book that I felt like an idiot. How could I not have seen this sooner?

Greg is also a non-believer in girls asking out guys. According to his research (asking a few of his guy friends) most successful relationships come from guys asking out girls, not the other way around. I'm not sure Greg's research is legit, but I am pretty traditional in my belief that the guy should ask the girl out. And if the girl is making it pretty obvious that she's into him, it shouldn't be that hard for the guy, right? At this point I'd like to go into a tangent about another book I read called For Women Only that talks about the inner lives of men and their insecurities, one of the main ones being rejection. However, that would make this post much longer than it really needs to be. But for those reading this post who are thinking just that, that men fear rejection and it's not so easy for a guy to ask out a girl he likes, Greg also makes the point that, if a guy is really into you, he will overcome any obstacles in his way to get to you, whether those obstacles are a hurricane, shyness, an ocean, etc. This is why women love men so much. They are conquerors and overcomers. They strive to succeed at all costs.

This all makes lots of sense, but there are still times, like right now, when I meet a guy who seems so perfect. He's ridiculously good-looking, he makes me laugh, is very intelligent, is a Godly man, and we have so much in common. We always have a good time when I see him, and I look forward to seeing him. He even said once that he thought we'd have a really good time if we hung out. And it's been two and a half months and he hasn't asked me out, even just to coffee. I've dropped so many hints, like telling him to come see me at my other job where I work as a server, hinting we should hit the pool together, and inferring we should go to a movie. And nothing. He doesn't bite. And he's never mentioned a girlfriend or a wife the entire time I've known him. I don't get it. I'm awesome. He's awesome. He seems like the perfect guy for me. I told God the other day that if he had some other guy out there for me who was way better than this guy, than my mind would be truly blown, because this guy seems pretty awesome. He's just not that into me is really hard to accept right now, because it really seems like he is into me.

So back to the book, let's start the exception possibilities:

He recently got out of a really bad break-up and isn't ready to date yet.
He's afraid to ruin our professional relationship and maybe jeopardize his job.

That's all I can come up with. Other than maybe he's gay.

The hardest part is, I know that I'm awesome. I just don't understand why he doesn't think I am, and why he's not into me. Or why if he does think I’m awesome and he is into me, why he isn’t asking me out. That's the trouble with women. We always want to know why.

I think the one thing I remember Greg saying in the book is that while there may be some explanation or exception, a rockin’ girl like me can’t wait around forever. And if I really am a catch, someone else will catch me.